"You know we would come over just for pizza and beer, too, right?" Spencer's voice sounds tinny on the other end of the phone line.
"Yeah," Ryan says. He's a little bit distracted. He doesn't think the zucchini is supposed to be quite this ... pulpy.
Brendon says something in the background, but Ryan can't make out what. He doesn't care, he was probably just insulting Ryan's prowess in the kitchen. Brendon was very reluctant when Ryan offered to make them dinner. Ryan doesn't get it. He hasn't set the kitchen on fire since he started his cooking class.
"Brendon's right," Spencer says, "if we turn up and it's inedible and we have to order pizza anyway, we'll laugh. Just so you know."
"You're a bad best friend," Ryan tells him. "I will make this delicious food and then I won't share it with you because you're such doubting thomases."
"We have the pizza place on speed dial," Brendon says.
"Yep," Spencer says.
Ryan hangs up quickly because if Brendon's close enough to speak into Spencer's phone, it's definitely time for him to go. He stares at the sauce. He might be wrong about the zucchini, but that sauce is DEFINITELY not going to be a brownish colour.
It's maybe time to call in the cavalry.
Mikey sounds a tiny bit amused on the phone, but he still turns up at Ryan's place an hour later with all the ingredients Ryan asked him to get. "You owe me 30 bucks," he says.
"My wallet's in the kitchen," Ryan says and hurries to get it. Mikey follows him at much more sedate place.
Ryan's digging through his bag for his wallet, when he realises that Mikey's standing in the door frame. And he's staring at Ryan's kitchen. "What?"
"Did a bomb explode here?" Mikey slowly moves toward the oven, like he's afraid it might actually blow up. "Frank once pulled this prank with dry ice and a portable WC and the result looked a lot like what's in that pot there."
"That is a zucchini-asparagus stew," Ryan says.
"Are you sure?" Mikey glances at the pot. "Cause it looks like it's about to become alive."
"Fuck you," Ryan says, but even he can't put much heat into it. Neither the zucchini nor the asparagus was that colour when he put it into the pot.
Ryan thinks it's all the fault of the cumin. Maybe he put a lot of it in. Or the soy sauce. That, too.
Mikey does not actually make a face when he smells the pot. It makes Ryan love him a little bit because the reason why Ryan hasn't thrown away that pot yet is that he gags every time he steps toward the oven. It reaks like it died days ago. Mikey's way more hardcore than Ryan. (Ryan thinks that's Gerard's fault. Mikey's lived in a van with four other guys--Ryan only had Spencer who's a fucking mastermind in finding shower opportunities and Brendon who HAS to shower after every show and Brent was a tad vain.)
"Uhm," Ryan says. "Let's throw that away."
Mikey nods. "Let's do that."
Ten minutes later nothing remains of the disaster that was Ryan's first foray in cooking dinner. It's a tiny bit troubling--Ryan has already improved so much in class. He hasn't cut himself with the knife in ages.
Mikey's good to work with because he's quiet. It's easier to think when Mikey's right there, cutting olives in half.
"So, Mikey starts, "explain to me why you're cooking dinner."
"I invited Spencer and Brendon for dinner," Ryan says. "Grown-up people do that."
"Yeah," Mikey says slowly. "But why you?"
Ryan shrugs. He doesn't quite know how to say it. It's just--it's weird right now. Spencer and Brendon are in that weird phase of honeymooning where they're building like a love den, all warm and comfortable and home. It seems like whenever Ryan gets up the courage to call, Spencer's cooking dinner. Rationally he knows that Spencer's known how to cook since high school, that Ginger taught him how, and that's just something Spencer does. Except for how they didn't talk for a few months there and they're just rebuilding their friendship for real, and every time Ryan looks at Spencer and Brendon, he sees all the time he wasn't there. It hurts that he wasn't there to see them finally act on their feelings. It hurts to think that maybe Ryan had to leave so that they could.
Fill: cooking class 'verse, part 1
"Yeah," Ryan says. He's a little bit distracted. He doesn't think the zucchini is supposed to be quite this ... pulpy.
Brendon says something in the background, but Ryan can't make out what. He doesn't care, he was probably just insulting Ryan's prowess in the kitchen. Brendon was very reluctant when Ryan offered to make them dinner. Ryan doesn't get it. He hasn't set the kitchen on fire since he started his cooking class.
"Brendon's right," Spencer says, "if we turn up and it's inedible and we have to order pizza anyway, we'll laugh. Just so you know."
"You're a bad best friend," Ryan tells him. "I will make this delicious food and then I won't share it with you because you're such doubting thomases."
"We have the pizza place on speed dial," Brendon says.
"Yep," Spencer says.
Ryan hangs up quickly because if Brendon's close enough to speak into Spencer's phone, it's definitely time for him to go. He stares at the sauce. He might be wrong about the zucchini, but that sauce is DEFINITELY not going to be a brownish colour.
It's maybe time to call in the cavalry.
Mikey sounds a tiny bit amused on the phone, but he still turns up at Ryan's place an hour later with all the ingredients Ryan asked him to get. "You owe me 30 bucks," he says.
"My wallet's in the kitchen," Ryan says and hurries to get it. Mikey follows him at much more sedate place.
Ryan's digging through his bag for his wallet, when he realises that Mikey's standing in the door frame. And he's staring at Ryan's kitchen. "What?"
"Did a bomb explode here?" Mikey slowly moves toward the oven, like he's afraid it might actually blow up. "Frank once pulled this prank with dry ice and a portable WC and the result looked a lot like what's in that pot there."
"That is a zucchini-asparagus stew," Ryan says.
"Are you sure?" Mikey glances at the pot. "Cause it looks like it's about to become alive."
"Fuck you," Ryan says, but even he can't put much heat into it. Neither the zucchini nor the asparagus was that colour when he put it into the pot.
Ryan thinks it's all the fault of the cumin. Maybe he put a lot of it in. Or the soy sauce. That, too.
Mikey does not actually make a face when he smells the pot. It makes Ryan love him a little bit because the reason why Ryan hasn't thrown away that pot yet is that he gags every time he steps toward the oven. It reaks like it died days ago. Mikey's way more hardcore than Ryan. (Ryan thinks that's Gerard's fault. Mikey's lived in a van with four other guys--Ryan only had Spencer who's a fucking mastermind in finding shower opportunities and Brendon who HAS to shower after every show and Brent was a tad vain.)
"Uhm," Ryan says. "Let's throw that away."
Mikey nods. "Let's do that."
Ten minutes later nothing remains of the disaster that was Ryan's first foray in cooking dinner. It's a tiny bit troubling--Ryan has already improved so much in class. He hasn't cut himself with the knife in ages.
Mikey's good to work with because he's quiet. It's easier to think when Mikey's right there, cutting olives in half.
"So, Mikey starts, "explain to me why you're cooking dinner."
"I invited Spencer and Brendon for dinner," Ryan says. "Grown-up people do that."
"Yeah," Mikey says slowly. "But why you?"
Ryan shrugs. He doesn't quite know how to say it. It's just--it's weird right now. Spencer and Brendon are in that weird phase of honeymooning where they're building like a love den, all warm and comfortable and home. It seems like whenever Ryan gets up the courage to call, Spencer's cooking dinner. Rationally he knows that Spencer's known how to cook since high school, that Ginger taught him how, and that's just something Spencer does. Except for how they didn't talk for a few months there and they're just rebuilding their friendship for real, and every time Ryan looks at Spencer and Brendon, he sees all the time he wasn't there. It hurts that he wasn't there to see them finally act on their feelings. It hurts to think that maybe Ryan had to leave so that they could.