RvB Oneshots(All Reds, Blues, 10 Freelancers, 2 Mercs)

flour(donut)

Requester: N/A
Prompt: #99, "What makes you think you're better at cooking?"
Gender: M/F
Word count: 1038

You sat in Donut's room on the floor with your legs crossed. Your armour and undersuit was in a neat pile in the corner of his room; his was on the stand. He was humming and shaking his hips while trying to find his magazines, delightfully excited to show you his collection. Music played quietly, and you smiled as he started singing when he knew the words.

"Ah! Here we go!" He says finally, holding up some papers. "I knew I would have a reason to bring these with! Man, I am so glad you joined our team, (L/N), the other guys never want anything to do with me!" He smiles at you brightly. You nod a little in acknowledgment, and he brings the stack of papers over and sits down next to you, leaning close.

"Okay, so these are all my fashion mags, and these all just have pictures of people who are nice to look at," he starts separating them into piles, describing each of them. "You would not believe the number of hidden gems you will find in places that aren't the internet." He picks up one of the packets, and a couple of loose-leaf photos fall out. You catch one as it falls, and he looks at it over your shoulder.

"Oh! Those are from when I was catering at a wedding. A close family friend asked me to make tons and tons of food for his wedding ceremony. I, of course, accepted, and it was de-lish." He smiles at the memory, his eyes glossing over. "Ah, but that was a different time." You pick up another one, then look around at the others that had scattered across the floor. One, in particular, catches your eye.

"You made their wedding cake?" You look at Donut with surprise. He grins and nods.

"Yeah! And they adored it. Said it was better than anything they could've dreamed of! And it tasted great, too!" He seems so proud of it, and for good reason. But there was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. You can tell he misses being able to cook like that. You think back briefly about the ingredients in the kitchen. Anything able to be eaten out of the container is probably gone because of Grif, but...

"Maybe there's enough stuff to make a cake here?" You offer to Donut. You see him hesitate.

"It sounds nice, but... I don't want to make you feel bad about my superior skills in the kitchen! I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty and do a little bit of grinding, you see." You cringe slightly at the wording but otherwise shake your head.

"And what makes you think you're better at cooking?" You shoot back. He lifts the picture of the cake.

"Uh, hello? This tasty treat was just begging to be eaten all night long!" You bite your lip.

"Try me, then, Donut," you say, grinning with the challenge.

"Fine! Maybe I will!" He gets up, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. You walk to the kitchen together, talking about what to make. He starts to pull out all of the ingredients, and you watch him, mesmerized.

"Don't you need a recipe?" You ask. He looks at you and shakes his head.

"Nope! I have everything I need right inside me!" He moves around the kitchen with the confidence only a professional could exhibit. You wonder if that's what he did before the war. He grabs some bowls and sets everything up before himself. Before he can get started, Grif comes strolling in.

"Hey, what's with all the- oh, shit, (L/N), you convinced Donut to make a cake?" He looks at you with wide eyes.

"Is it... A difficult thing to do?"

"Well, yeah. He always says that--"

"I don't want to overwhelm you guys with how good I am with my hands! I keep telling you that!"

"And we usually leave him alone after that," Grif finishes, walking away as if to prove his point. Donut shrugs with a special kind of ignorance and gets started. You watch him for a while as he mixes things quickly and efficiently. He stops and looks at you.

"I thought this was a challenge, (L/N)?" He asks, tilting his head. "You're not making anything very difficult at all. Everyone knows that the harder it is, the better!" You frown.

"Well, I don't have the recipe," you say, getting up. You reach into the bowl with the batter in it and place your finger into it, reaching up and smearing the vanilla mixture onto his face and neck. He gasps.

"How dare you waste something so delectable! Now I've got white, sticky, delicious batter all over me!" He cries. He dips his fingers into the flour, bringing his hand up quickly to cover your face and clothes in the powder. You look at him in shock.

"There! Now we're even!" He says, returning his attention to the batter. You frown, pouting. Feeling a little petty, you scoop up a small handful of flour and throw it at him in a cloud. He backs up, and stares at you, his face turning a bright red. Before long, an all-out war had begun.

About an hour later, the two of you were laughing and panting on the floor, coated from head to toe in flour. The cake was saved and put into the oven to bake in a brief truce that was quickly dashed with a bit of flour. You leaned against Donut, smiling happily as the smell of vanilla wafted through the base.

"Jeez, (L/N), you really know how to make a guy make a mess of himself!" Donut says, breathless. You laugh.

"We should get this cleaned up before Sarge comes in," you say softly, turning your head to look up at him. He smiles at you.

"You're right. But I think I like sitting here like this a little more than I like the idea of cleaning up." He leans and presses a soft kiss to your nose, and you blush and throw a tiny handful of flour at him in embarrassment. He laughs.

"What in Sam Hell happened in here?!"