THADDEUS
I stomped through the doorway of my Housing Pod with a frustrated groan, tearing at the buttons of my dirty Construction Unit uniform as I desperately tried to get the itchy fabric off of my overheated skin.
Kicking my shoes off in the corner as the door slid shut behind me was extremely pleasing, the force at which they each slammed against the wall satisfying my inner rage which had reached a boiling pitch at some point throughout the long work day.
Yeah, I was still pissed at that Elder.
I mean, what could I say? He really fucked me over with those punishments. Anyone would be angry at the prospect of working seven days a week for an entire month without any breaks.
It sucked. Royally.
I rolled my neck, vertebrae popping as I stepped further into the living room and blinked as I finally lifted my head and took in the scene in front of me.
The Pod was... spotless. There were absolutely zero signs of the wild party which took place less than twenty-four hours prior.
It even smelled good, like Bug had somehow infused his sweet, peachy scent into the very walls.
The one thing that I didn't notice though, was the distinct smell of dinner that was - without fail - always swirling around in the air whenever I returned from my Work Unit. For some reason that one little incongruence caused a tiny tinge of worry to wiggle its way up into my stomach.
There had to be something wrong. There was no way that Bug would willingly not make dinner, it just wasn't like him at all.
I needed to check on him.
It only took a few seconds to make my way to the bedroom door and tap the control panel.
And then, there he was.
Draped in another one of those long, white, and ridiculously modest nightgowns that I'd seen him wear on the first day we were mated, he lay above the blankets, wavy hair splayed across the pillow. A delicate hand draped over the side of the bed, and a feather duster lay just beneath it on the concrete floor, as if he'd fallen asleep directly in the process of cleaning something.
If I was being really, really honest with myself, I kinda - only somewhat - felt the tiniest little bit of empathy for the lil' mutant as I watched in silence from the doorway.
If there was one thing that I could understand, it was a hangover. And remembering how my first one felt, there was no way in hell that someone could have convinced me to clean up after thirty rowdy adults while my head felt like it was being crushed by a hydraulic press.
I blew out a stream of frustrated air at the thought that maybe... just maybe this little Bug was a little more resilient than I had been giving him credit for.
After all, he'd somehow managed to lie to the Elder Edergan - likely getting me out of heaps more trouble - even if the old bastard didn't fully believe him.
I was so perplexed when he tried to take responsibility for the party debacle that it was difficult for me find the words to ask him what the fuck changed between now and his miserable performance on Introduction Day. However my inability to conjure up the right words made no difference, since after Edergan's exodus Bug just brushed right around me, mumbling something about how his head hurt as he toddled over to shut himself off in the bedroom.
It took me a few moments to realize that I was repeatedly sucking in giant gulps of peach-flavored air as I stared - probably a lil' creepily - from the doorway.
I could no longer ignore this change - this heightening of my senses - including the fact that scents (especially Bug's) were significantly stronger than before the Soul Mate Ceremony. I had no fucking clue what could have been causing this sudden and extremely significant adjustment in my already impeccable physiology, but it was obvious that something was just... different.
It did bother me a little, not knowing what the hell was going on or how this came to be, but I'd be damned if I went to the Medical Unit and gave The Elders an opportunity to poke and prod at me about it. Plus, it's not like I was actively dying, so fuck all that.
A soft growling noise and a slightly metallic scent made my nose twitch, pulling me right out of my thoughts.
Somehow, I immediately knew what the issue was.
Bug was hungry, and judging by the rumble in my own stomach, so was I.
I groaned.
The obvious answer was just to wake Bug up and order him to make me something, and a few days prior I wouldn't have even hesitated to do just that. However, there was a tiny little tug in my chest at the thought, one that refused to allow me to follow through on the action.
Therefore, the only option left was for me to do it.
Thaddeus Axton was going to cook.
I had no idea how to make any form of food beyond a cold-cut sandwich, and even then I'd managed to burn the bread beyond recognition more than a few times. Plus, I'm pretty sure our rations for this week didn't include any sliced meats.
Crossing my thick arms in contemplation, I chewed on my lip as I pondered a solution.
And then, less than a moment later, a lightbulb went off.
I turned on my heel, making my way toward the kitchen that I was largely unfamiliar with. Being in here was extremely far removed from my usual territory, which was lounging on the couch and doing absolutely fuck-all. However, being the amazing Thaddeus Axton I was, there was nothing that I couldn't accomplish with a little effort.
My eyes skimmed over the various cookbooks that sat, neatly arranged in alphabetical order on the far right counter. One in particular titled 'Cooking For Comfort' caught my eye, and I quickly slid the book from its spot.
"Aaalright, let's see..." I mumbled to myself thoughtlessly as I began flipping through the pages. They were filled with colorful dishes, all of which looked a little bit too complicated for my entry-level skill. However, after a minute or two of thumbing through the seemingly never-ending book, one page in particular caught my eye.
"One-pot chicken noodle soup..." I read aloud, dragging my finger over the recipe as I skimmed down to the ingredients that it required, "Garlic, onion, bouillon, chicken, noodles, water... hm. Sounds easy enough." I grinned to myself, brimming with confidence.
This was gonna be so easy, I could probably do it with my hands tied behind my back.
Tossing the book somewhere on the counter, I headed toward the small pantry, hoping that we had enough left over rations to cover all of the required ingredients. It took a bit longer than I was willing to admit to gather it all, but sooner than later I had everything dumped off in a little heap beside the stove as I pulled out the biggest pot that I could find and filled it with water.
However, it was only when I dropped the pot on the stove that I realized that I had absolutely zero idea how to turn the damn thing on.
"Ahh, fuck..." I grumbled out, bending from side to side as I searched for a button, a knob, anything that would indicate that it started up the damn thing. My impatience won out after a few moments of fruitless searching, and instead I fished my travel tablet from my pocket to search for instructions.
"Really?!" I exclaimed, extremely stunned by my own incompetence as I skimmed the instruction manual provided for all appliances in The Society. Of course it was controlled by a control panel - as was everything else in here - and of course I completely missed the giant screen that sat, flush and built into the wall right next to the appliance.
"Alright, we're in business now," I assured myself, rubbing my hands together like a villain as I finally tapped the control panel, a little blue light indicating that the electric stove was now turned on and heating up.
It would surely be smooth sailing from here on.
...
It was not smooth sailing from there on.
More than two hours later I was on my third attempt at the soup due to charring the garlic twice in a row, and my entire left hand was pink from stirring the boiling liquid so hard that it splashed right out and burned the hell out of me. It took all of my willpower to resist from just pushing the damn pot to the ground and giving up completely.
How the fuck Aria managed to cook three meals a day without a single complaint was seriously a mystery to me. By the time I had fucked up the second pot, even I - Thaddeus Axton - had to admit, this shit was hard. Like, really hard.
But - for the first time in my life - I didn't give up when it got hard. Bug was hungry. So - obviously - I had to succeed.
The soup was probably made up of more of my sweat than broth at this point as it rolled down my throbbing temples dripped down my forehead, but a smirk pulled at my lips despite my current state of disaster.
Judging by the fact that the veggies hadn't burnt to a crisp this time as well as the slight separation of the chicken oil to the water of the broth, I decided that I had finally done it.
I'd cooked.
It even smelled good. Granted, maybe not quite as good as Bug's meals, but at least the kitchen didn't smell like charred garlic, burnt chicken and disappointment anymore.
I ladled my finished masterpiece into two of the white, squared off bowls that were standardly issued to every Housing Pod, unable to resist the selfish urge to put a bit more of the good, chunky meat in my own bowl. Once they were all filled I slipped two spoons into them before balancing one in each hand.
My smirk widened, feeling positively triumphant as I gazed down at the bowls and made my way back to the bedroom. Tapping my elbow to the control panel, I prompted the door to slide open before me.
I had to suppress a chuckle as I viewed the scene behind them.
Bug hadn't moved a single fuckin' inch, but his mouth was now open a little, a single string of drool connecting his cheek to the bedspread beneath him. If it wasn't for his soft inhales and the faint sound of his grumbling stomach, I probably would have thought that he was dead as fuck.
I almost felt bad about waking him, but it was time for him to come back to the land of the living and try my bomb ass soup.
"Oi, Bug." I nudged his dangling arm with my knee, frowning a moment later as he remained - miraculously - completely still and in a state of deep sleep. I decided to try again, louder this time.
"Bug, food!" I tried once more, frustration threatening to overcome me as he once again remained completely still.
"ARIA!" I finally yelled, leaning down to his ear and nudging him much harder this time, "Wake the hell up!"
"AH!" Bug shot up immediately, hands pushing himself up on the soft mattress and wavy hair a little frizzy as he blinked, taking in his surroundings with wide, wild eyes.
I almost felt bad as a split second of metallic burn registered in my senses, but to my absolute pleasure, the terrible smell immediately tapered down as those big eyes settled on me.
"... Oh, hi! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I just... had a bit of a fright..." He mumbled, eyes turning downcast with a little, embarrassed smile. His fingers pulled at the sleeves of his nightgown as he then peered up through his lashes. He still laid in a precarious, half-lying position on the bed, as if still trying to force himself awake.
"It's whatever." I replied, thrusting the bowl out toward him, "Come on, I'm not going to hand feed you. Sit up and take the bowl before The Elders decide they want to yell at me for letting you get too skinny or something."
Bug blinked, thin arms pushing his slight frame up to sitting as his brow pulled together in what looked to be confusion.
"You... cooked?" He breathed with a tone of complete disbelief, stretching his neck in an attempt to peer over the edge of the bowls and see what I'd made.
"I don't just carry around empty bowls for no reason, dummy." I rolled my eyes, immediately regretting the words as Bug deflated a little at the insult. "... I... I didn't mean that. I'm just pissed off because I couldn't get the damn garlic to cook right." I corrected myself, taking a seat on the bed beside Bug so that he could grab the bowl easier.
The bed immediately depressed on my side due to my significantly heavier weight, and our thighs pressed together as his lighter body slid down into the divot. Our nearness made my addicted lungs suck in the suddenly more pronounced peachy scent a little faster, but I pretended not to notice.
"May I have that one, please?" Bug requested, pointing to the overflowing bowl I'd made specifically for myself, "I'm so hungry, I haven't had a chance to eat anything today since I've been feeling so... poopy."
I heaved a sigh, both at his childish choice of words and at the idea of giving him the food I had planned to save for myself, but before I knew it a tug in my chest had me shoving the overfilled bowl in his direction.
"Fine, take it." I caved with a deep exhale, "I slaved over the stove to make this, so just eat it before it gets cold or else I'll pry your mouth open and pour it down your throat myself." I half-joked, and Bug just nodded quickly, slim fingers wrapping around the warm bowl as he smiled brightly up at me.
My breathing increased.
"Thank you, Thad. This was really, really sweet of you to do. I promise I won't forget to make dinner again." He said, smile holding another moment before he turned down to immediately begin to shovel chunks of chicken and noodles into his mouth. He winced at the heat, and I held back a laugh.
"Not that fast." I teased, "You're such a mess."
"I'm not a mess!" He argued back, the subtle heat of his thigh pressed against my own through his nightgown distracting me a little as I raised an amused brow at his protest, "You literally just told me to eat it fast or else you would pry my mouth open! I don't have a big mouth, so that would hurt really bad!"
"Oh? You don't have a big mouth? Then why do you talk so much all the time?" I teased, intentionally misconstruing the context of his words.
Bug's face immediately filled with a soft, flushed pink color and I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped me at the sight until a tiny hand shot out, pushing against my bicep. His brow pulled together even tighter this time.
"Hey, that's not what I meant!" Bug chittered adorably, but his head fell down a moment later, as if avoiding eye contact as he fully processed my words, "... Do I really talk too much? I can try being more quiet if I make you uncomfortable..." He trailed off, my brain instantly reacting to the hint of metal in the air around us. I nudged him with my shoulder in an effort to emphasize that what I said was playful in nature.
"Nah, you're good." I assured, swirling the spoon around in my bowl, "Talk as much as you want, I'll live."
Bug's feet kicked around a little at my words, but he instantly stilled them as if he'd suddenly realized what he was doing and suppressed the urge instead.
"O-Okay..." He replied, voice small as he tried to hide his smile behind both his hair and spoon.
I didn't know what to say to him next, so I opted for nothing.
And so we sat, thigh-to-thigh in a comfortable silence until our spoons scraped the bottom of our bowls and we finally retired in our separate sleeping quarters with a brief goodnight.
After sitting on an actual mattress for the first time in over a month, the couch felt hard, lumpy, and so damn uncomfortable beneath my spine in comparison. But, with a few lungfuls of sweet, fruity air and a brief stint of counting sheep, I finally managed to drift off after half a night of turning.
And I dreamt of peaches. A whole orchard full of 'em.