![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Devil in a Blue Apron
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,035
Summary: Trish is doing her best to repay Andrej for all the things he’s done for her over the years. The boys aren’t helping any.
Author’s Note: Written for the Say What Friday Challenge at 1_million_words. Many thanks to James Comey for this ridiculous quote: “Evil has an ordinary face. It laughs, it cries, it deflects, it rationalizes, it makes great pasta."
“Oooh,” Zayne said, looking over Trish’s shoulder. “That smells good. Please tell me this is dinner.”
“Back off, Reyes,” she said, brandishing a wooden spoon in his direction. “I’m trying to do something nice for Andy and you’re in my way.”
“We can help,” James said, dipping a spoon into the sauce and tasting it. “I can start by fixing this sauce for you.”
Trish turned her wooden weapon on the narco. “You get away from my sauce, gingerbread. It isn’t done yet and that’s why you think it needs something. Let it simmer and build the flavors.”
James made to dip the spoon back into the sauce and was smacked for his efforts.
“Dude,” Zayne snorted. “You don’t double dip, you heathen.”
Trish eyed him.
“What?” Zayne shrugged, looking a little sheepish.
“Zeklos got you, too, didn’t he,” Trish asked.
“Maybe,” Zayne said, leaning back over her shoulder and breathing deeply. “This really does smell good, no lie.”
“Awesome,” she said, backing into Zayne and making him retreat a few paces. “Now get out of my kitchen.”
“Technically it’s Zek’s kitchen, red.”
“Whatever,” Trish said, waving the sauce covered spoon in their direction. “Just vacate, pronto!”
“I still think it needs more basil,” James said as Zayne dragged him out of the kitchen.
“Sit still, Rosewood,” Zayne said, trying to press the bag of ice to the redhead’s face. “I told you not to push her, didn’t I?’
“Oh shut up,” James growled. “I know I’m right. But what do I care? She can serve some bland ass pasta sauce to you all. I’m not eating it.”
Zayne sighed. “You know, you really ought to stop before she blackens your other eye.”
“Just like the shrimp I had for lunch, you pasty ass narco,” she shouted from the kitchen.
“God damn,” James laughed despite his situation. “She really does have ears like a hawk.”
“One more thing I said that you ignored,” Zayne replied, rolling his eyes. “Come one, hold this against your cheek. It’s bad enough it’s going to be bruised, you don’t need to be swollen, too.”
“What is going on,” Andrej asked, coming into the living room and stopping in his tracks. “Jay, what happened to your face?”
“I did,” Trish said, popping her head out of the kitchen long enough to smile at Andrej. “You’re right on time. I just took the garlic bread out of the oven.”
He looked from the ginger in his kitchen to the one sitting sullenly on his couch. “I am confused.”
“Don’t be,” Trish said. “He pissed me off so I put him in his place. Easy peasy.”
“Okay,” Andrej said, drawing the word out. “Do you need any help in the kitchen?”
“Nope,” she said, disappearing again. “I’ve got it handled.”
Andrej directed his gaze towards his boyfriends huddled together on the couch. “What did Jay say to Trish, Zayne?”
“He critiqued her pasta sauce,” Zayne said, eyes staying focused on James. “Told her she needed more basil. It was all over after that.”
Sighing, Andrej took the empty spot on James’ other side. “Do not ever tell her she needs more of anything,” he said, patting James’ leg with his hand. “She is very sensitive.”
“She’s evil,” James pouted.
“I think she just proved to him what we’ve been saying all along, Zek.”
“And what have we been saying, Zayne?”
“That it doesn’t take much to piss off a redhead.”
“Shut up, Reyes,” Trish called from the dining table. “I’ll not feed you.”
“Whoops,” Zayne said, grimacing. “Sorry, Rollins.”
“It’s okay, Reyes,” she said, coming over and patting Zayne’s head. “How’s the narco’s face?” She peered at James, examining her handiwork.
“Still ugly,” Zayne joked.
“Fucker,” James growled, sucker punching Zayne in the gut.
“Dude,” Zayne grunted. “That coulda hurt.”
“I pulled my punch,” James said, winking with his good eye.
“Zayne,” Andrej prompted. “Jay’s eye?”
Zayne removed the ice pack from James’ face and frowned. “It’s going to be a nasty bruise, but I don’t think it’ll swell.”
“Good,” Trish said with one sharp nod. “Maybe he’ll remember not to question my cooking skills next time. Dinner’s ready.”
“I must go wash my hands,” Andrej said, watching his boys for a long moment. “Will you two be okay without me?”
“We’ll be fine,” Zayne assured him. “I’ve got the gingerbread and will keep him safe from the jalapeno in the kitchen.”
Andrej left to go wash his hands. Zayne stood and held out a hand. “Let’s go eat. Give me the ice pack.”
James handed over the ice pack and rose slowly to his feet. He slid into the chair he always used, Zayne directly across from him. Andrej sat at the head of the table with Trish taking the only open place opposite Zeklos.
“First person to bitch about my sauce gets kneed in the nuts,” she said, spreading her napkin on her lap. “Got it?”
“Understood,” James and Zayne said in unison. Andrej had better manners than either of the boys and kept his mouth shut. It was so much easier that way.
“Man, who knew,” James muttered, chewing a mouth full of pasta.
“Who knew what,” Zayne asked, sliding a forkful into his mouth.
“That evil has an ordinary face. It laughs, it cries, it deflects, it rationalizes, it makes great pasta."
“And it has a mean left hook,” Zayne added with a grin.
“Shut up,” Trish said at the same time James groaned, “Don’t remind me.”
Andrej stared at his plate, trying desperately not to laugh. He didn’t want to hurt James’ feelings but, more than that, he didn’t want to encourage Zayne or Trish’s bad behavior. Instead, he scooped up a forkful of spaghetti and tomato sauce and saluted Trish with it. “Thank you for the lovely meal. And if you are the greatest evil to ever enter my home, I will consider myself lucky.”
“I’ll drink to that,” James said, getting up and going into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of wine and four glasses. “And god only knows, I think we all need a glass or two tonight.”
He poured and passed the glasses around and no one, not even Andy, declined.
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,035
Summary: Trish is doing her best to repay Andrej for all the things he’s done for her over the years. The boys aren’t helping any.
Author’s Note: Written for the Say What Friday Challenge at 1_million_words. Many thanks to James Comey for this ridiculous quote: “Evil has an ordinary face. It laughs, it cries, it deflects, it rationalizes, it makes great pasta."
“Oooh,” Zayne said, looking over Trish’s shoulder. “That smells good. Please tell me this is dinner.”
“Back off, Reyes,” she said, brandishing a wooden spoon in his direction. “I’m trying to do something nice for Andy and you’re in my way.”
“We can help,” James said, dipping a spoon into the sauce and tasting it. “I can start by fixing this sauce for you.”
Trish turned her wooden weapon on the narco. “You get away from my sauce, gingerbread. It isn’t done yet and that’s why you think it needs something. Let it simmer and build the flavors.”
James made to dip the spoon back into the sauce and was smacked for his efforts.
“Dude,” Zayne snorted. “You don’t double dip, you heathen.”
Trish eyed him.
“What?” Zayne shrugged, looking a little sheepish.
“Zeklos got you, too, didn’t he,” Trish asked.
“Maybe,” Zayne said, leaning back over her shoulder and breathing deeply. “This really does smell good, no lie.”
“Awesome,” she said, backing into Zayne and making him retreat a few paces. “Now get out of my kitchen.”
“Technically it’s Zek’s kitchen, red.”
“Whatever,” Trish said, waving the sauce covered spoon in their direction. “Just vacate, pronto!”
“I still think it needs more basil,” James said as Zayne dragged him out of the kitchen.
“Sit still, Rosewood,” Zayne said, trying to press the bag of ice to the redhead’s face. “I told you not to push her, didn’t I?’
“Oh shut up,” James growled. “I know I’m right. But what do I care? She can serve some bland ass pasta sauce to you all. I’m not eating it.”
Zayne sighed. “You know, you really ought to stop before she blackens your other eye.”
“Just like the shrimp I had for lunch, you pasty ass narco,” she shouted from the kitchen.
“God damn,” James laughed despite his situation. “She really does have ears like a hawk.”
“One more thing I said that you ignored,” Zayne replied, rolling his eyes. “Come one, hold this against your cheek. It’s bad enough it’s going to be bruised, you don’t need to be swollen, too.”
“What is going on,” Andrej asked, coming into the living room and stopping in his tracks. “Jay, what happened to your face?”
“I did,” Trish said, popping her head out of the kitchen long enough to smile at Andrej. “You’re right on time. I just took the garlic bread out of the oven.”
He looked from the ginger in his kitchen to the one sitting sullenly on his couch. “I am confused.”
“Don’t be,” Trish said. “He pissed me off so I put him in his place. Easy peasy.”
“Okay,” Andrej said, drawing the word out. “Do you need any help in the kitchen?”
“Nope,” she said, disappearing again. “I’ve got it handled.”
Andrej directed his gaze towards his boyfriends huddled together on the couch. “What did Jay say to Trish, Zayne?”
“He critiqued her pasta sauce,” Zayne said, eyes staying focused on James. “Told her she needed more basil. It was all over after that.”
Sighing, Andrej took the empty spot on James’ other side. “Do not ever tell her she needs more of anything,” he said, patting James’ leg with his hand. “She is very sensitive.”
“She’s evil,” James pouted.
“I think she just proved to him what we’ve been saying all along, Zek.”
“And what have we been saying, Zayne?”
“That it doesn’t take much to piss off a redhead.”
“Shut up, Reyes,” Trish called from the dining table. “I’ll not feed you.”
“Whoops,” Zayne said, grimacing. “Sorry, Rollins.”
“It’s okay, Reyes,” she said, coming over and patting Zayne’s head. “How’s the narco’s face?” She peered at James, examining her handiwork.
“Still ugly,” Zayne joked.
“Fucker,” James growled, sucker punching Zayne in the gut.
“Dude,” Zayne grunted. “That coulda hurt.”
“I pulled my punch,” James said, winking with his good eye.
“Zayne,” Andrej prompted. “Jay’s eye?”
Zayne removed the ice pack from James’ face and frowned. “It’s going to be a nasty bruise, but I don’t think it’ll swell.”
“Good,” Trish said with one sharp nod. “Maybe he’ll remember not to question my cooking skills next time. Dinner’s ready.”
“I must go wash my hands,” Andrej said, watching his boys for a long moment. “Will you two be okay without me?”
“We’ll be fine,” Zayne assured him. “I’ve got the gingerbread and will keep him safe from the jalapeno in the kitchen.”
Andrej left to go wash his hands. Zayne stood and held out a hand. “Let’s go eat. Give me the ice pack.”
James handed over the ice pack and rose slowly to his feet. He slid into the chair he always used, Zayne directly across from him. Andrej sat at the head of the table with Trish taking the only open place opposite Zeklos.
“First person to bitch about my sauce gets kneed in the nuts,” she said, spreading her napkin on her lap. “Got it?”
“Understood,” James and Zayne said in unison. Andrej had better manners than either of the boys and kept his mouth shut. It was so much easier that way.
“Man, who knew,” James muttered, chewing a mouth full of pasta.
“Who knew what,” Zayne asked, sliding a forkful into his mouth.
“That evil has an ordinary face. It laughs, it cries, it deflects, it rationalizes, it makes great pasta."
“And it has a mean left hook,” Zayne added with a grin.
“Shut up,” Trish said at the same time James groaned, “Don’t remind me.”
Andrej stared at his plate, trying desperately not to laugh. He didn’t want to hurt James’ feelings but, more than that, he didn’t want to encourage Zayne or Trish’s bad behavior. Instead, he scooped up a forkful of spaghetti and tomato sauce and saluted Trish with it. “Thank you for the lovely meal. And if you are the greatest evil to ever enter my home, I will consider myself lucky.”
“I’ll drink to that,” James said, getting up and going into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of wine and four glasses. “And god only knows, I think we all need a glass or two tonight.”
He poured and passed the glasses around and no one, not even Andy, declined.
