#i think wveryone i know would probably be better off if i dropped off the face of the earth

[catboycypher]

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[writing-royza]

Two Hundred and Thirty-one - Home Cooking, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, wveryone! I know this doesn’t jive with the continuity of Snap Shot #31 (where Roy says he didn’t know she could cook) but I just kind of pretend that one doesn’t exist so…. I was young them so newto this, so foolish.... So enjoy something better! :P

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Thirty-one - Home Cooking, 3.0

“…It’s not supposed to be this difficult.”

Riza rolled her eyes skyward, praying for patience. “Making a soufflé is difficult,” she corrected. “This is just you being indecisive and me not having gone grocery shopping in a week.” Studying the contents of her small pantry, she pursed her lips in thought. “The trouble is, I’m trying not to go shopping because we move to Central in a week and I don’t want to have to throw all of this away.”

Standing behind her, arms folded, Roy nodded in understanding. “I would be in the same spot myself if I ever actually cooked anything.” Turning toward the table, he rubbed his hands together, thinking. “Okay, let’s go at this mathematically. One thing at a time. Usual makeup of a meal is something like meat, vegetable, and something else, right?”

“Usually, sure.”

“Okay. So the something else — I know I saw about three different kinds of pasta in there. How about that?”

“Okay.” Pulling out three bags of the stuff, Riza hefted each one. “There’s only about enough in each of these for one person. How do you feel about combining two of them?” She checked the types. “Fusilli and baby shells?”

“Do we need the shells’ parents to sign a waiver or something?” He grinned at her exasperated look, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. “There; we’re a third of the way there. What do you have in the way of meat?”

She thought for a minute, her eyes on the icebox across the room. “There should be some thin steaks in there, the kind that you fry up. Or there’s boneless chicken breast. Take your pick.”

“Normally I’m a steak guy, but in this case, I think I’m feeling the chicken.” He tilted the chair back on its rear legs. “Last part: vegetables.”

“Frozen peas or fresh carrots.” She shrugged, moving to the counter with the pasta. “With chicken and pasta, I’d usually go with peas, but I know you don’t like them. Which is odd, because you’ll eat brussels sprouts and those are just disgusting.”

“Hey, brussels sprouts are fine, if you peel the leaves off and sauté them with garlic butter. Peas are just nasty. And ridiculously tiny.” He spread his hands. “And look at that. We found dinner.”

Riza smiled, indulging him on this minor point of pride. “It would seem you’re right, sir.” She pointed to the stack of files on her kitchen table as she moved toward the icebox. “I’ll get started on this if you get started on those.”

“Fair enough.”

They settled into a companionable silence as they worked, the kind that usually fell over the office when they were alone within it. It was the kind of silence that meant anyone in the room was entirely comfortable with anyone else they were with, a testament to the level of understanding they shared.

Standing at the stove, a pot of water warming to a boil and thin-sliced chicken beginning to fry in a pan, Riza spoke over her shoulder. “So, do you know any good places in Central to go out to eat? I’m thinking it could be a day or so before I’m able to get groceries.”

Roy looked up, grinning lopsidedly. “Hey, I’m Central born and bred. Of course I know places.”

“They actually breed people like you, sir?” She wasn’t quite able to keep the teasing smile off of her face. “I’m surprised that whole city isn’t in shambles.”

Dark eyes rolled at the bad joke. “Oh, very funny.”

“Besides, didn't you say you were born closer to South City?”

“Anyway….” Setting the first finished file aside, he reached for the next. “My point is that yes, I do know a lot of places. It really just depends on what you’re in the mood for.” He frowned at the file’s contents. “Why does Falman have so many extra court notices in here? Did he break every traffic law in the book or something?”

“No, that’ll be from his divorce a few months ago.” Stepping over, she gave the notices a quick glance. “It shouldn’t effect his transfer approval. In fact, I think he’ll be happy to get away from his ex-wife, though maybe not his kids.” Turning, she retrieved the packet of dry pasta. “So… let’s say it’s the first morning in Central. Where’s a good place for breakfast?”

“Noble Street Café.” Roy didn’t even hesitate, even though the majority of his attention was on his work. “Probably considered a hole-in-the-wall, but it’s pretty popular nonetheless. The owner is a friend of the Madame, which is how I heard about it.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what they do to their bacon, but it’s dangerously addictive.”

“That reminds me….” Returning to the icebox, she pulled a packet of white waxed paper from inside, holding it up. “What do you think — add a little in with the chicken, give it a bit of extra flavour?”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to say no to bacon?”

“And I don’t need much convincing either.” She moved to the counter, taking a knife from the block near the sink. “Lunch shouldn’t be a problem; that’s what the base cafeteria is for.” She frowned, opening the packet. “Should I just cook all of this and the rest of the pasta? It would take care of my lunches for the next few days….”

He looked over. “If it’s too much for you to eat on your own, I’ll take some.” Setting Falman’s file aside, he reached for the next one. “In terms of dinner places, do you prefer sit-down or take-away?”

“Depends on how late I’m working.”

“Okay, well…. For take-away, there’s a good Xingese place not too far from Command’s main gate. Maybe a ten-minute walk?” He watched her chopping the strips of frozen bacon into little squares, eyeing how close the knife was to her fingers. “The owners are good people; immigrated from Xing about fifteen years ago. And I think the Madame helped them get a liquor license when they started their shop.”

“So I know she’s probably personal vetted them, then,” Riza answered wryly. “And I am a sucker for good Xingese food. Okay then, what about in terms of sit-down dinners?”

His tone was all innocence as he asked “Formal or casual?”

“Let’s put your knowledge to the test. Both.”

He shrugged as she set the knife aside, his attention returning to the files. “If you want casual, there’s a mom-and-pop place maybe a quarter-mile out from Command’s east gate. They see a lot of business from the military, and last I knew, they had a ten percent discount if you show your military ID.” He paused, frowning as he thought. “Formal…. There’s a combination lounge-slash-dining room on Twenty-first Street, within a mile of the north gate. Classy place, classy clientele.”

The look Riza gave him over her shoulder was a knowing one. “And of those two places, I take it that both of them know the Madame?”

“Hey, I said I knew places, not that they all also happened to be part of her information network.” He looked up grinning, only for the smile to fade as he found her studying the stove with a thoughtful frown. “…What is it?”

“It’s just occurring to me…. This is going to make a lot of food.” She glanced over at him. “More than you and I could eat in one night, and the more I think about it, I don’t want to be stuck eating the same thing for the next few days. Not when there’s still other things in that pantry that should be taken care of as well.”

Catching on, Roy smirked. “How many of the men should I call?”

“All of them.”