#i need to do a more extensive post about carit at some point...

[kariachi]

Who wants fic!? Some Kevin, some Argit, shopping went wild and our favorite rat is indulging in some of his ancestral culture.

~~

It had been expected for Argit to come back to the apartment with a decent pickling jar and a collection of whatever fruits and vegetables caught his eye. Ever since getting somewhat settled on Earth Kevin had begun working on making a traditional-enough broth like had been a mainstay of his early childhood, and Argit had eventually gotten the urge to follow suit. He hadn’t grown up with traditional Erinaen fare, his nostalgia was for what could be eked out of the Null Void, but since their escape he’d been slowly getting more and more exposure to the cultures, cooking, and so on of his parents’ homeworld. Especially now, with the thriving population in Geilla Bohln giving him every opportunity to sink into the whole. To try to get a pickle together, a household mainstay of the vast majority of the species, especially with Kevin doing similar with his broth? Had been an obvious step to take.

Kevin had not realized that it apparently required restocking the kitchen.

He stood leaning against a wall and watched, cheek on his fist, as Argit pulled item after item out of a jar that had to be at least twice what he’d expected. A stack of papers, about six different varieties of fruit and veg- only half of which recognized- a container of vinegar, a box of salt, cutlery-

“When you were late,” he said, “I was kinda hoping you’d met a cute guy.”

“I should be so lucky,” Argit said with a derisive snort. “Made the mistake of mentioning I was trying to make a pickle for the first time and was forced to buy a larger jar than I wanted because ‘planning for later never hurts you’. Then, the bastards had a few of the teenagers go with me to buy some produce, people there insisted I grab this-” He grabbed a bundle of some sort of green. “-because apparently it makes a healthier and faster pickle.”

“Then,” he continued, and at that point Kevin had to hop up to sit on the counter, “somebody asked what color knife I was using. I said ‘I’ve got metal ones’, immediately half the shop was arguing about what was the best color knife for cooking because apparently that makes a difference. Anyway, another couple of teenagers got sent to escort me to get some ‘good crystal’.” Stepping away from the jar as he finished unloading, Argit grabbed one of the small handful of knives. They were blue tones, with bone handles shaped down to a grip that looked natural in his hand. Kevin couldn’t help a little smirk.

“And is that color good for pickles?”

“Not a fucking clue.” Argit shook his head. “Once the others mentioned the pickle the argument started up again, finally said I wasn’t getting more than one set and seems everyone could at least agree that blues are good for general everyday use. Still tried to talk me into getting multiple colors, but by then I was just done. Damn near everybody with access to a pen and paper gave me a different recipe to follow too.” Snickering, Kevin shook his head. Reached out to fiddle with one of Argit’s ears.

“Think at this point I’m required to make some prayers to help it work,” he teased, snorting as Argit leaned into his touch.

“It fucking better, because if I have to go through this again we’re moving.”