Gladiolus Amicitia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sword_chocobro) wrote2024-03-17 01:45 pm
sword_chocobro) wrote2024-03-17 01:45 pm
Soulwood; Sunday Morning [03/17].
Nell had told Gladio that he was making breakfast that morning, partially as a joke, no doubt, but anyone who'd met Gladio would know that he took jokes very seriously. And when he realized that this would very likely be the very first time a man had ever used the kitchen at Soulwood, well, that's when he knew he would be locked in. He was going to make oatmeal that morning, godsdammit, even if that meant he wound up burning the whole house down because of it.
(There was, after all, a part of him that thought burning this house down might be the best thing for it, but he was trying not to think too hard on that).
He didn't really think much of it, because it was oatmeal, anyone could make oatmeal, and he expected it might be a little different because of Nell's warnings about using the woodstove, but how much different could it actually be?
Different enough, it would seem, that he was pretty sure he'd ruined this pot entirely. Frowning, holding it up, Gladio tried poking at what had become a pretty much charred lump of what could have been oatmeal at the bottom of the pan with a knife to see if he could get it off, but no such luck. There was a firm smack of the pot on the side of the counter, but all that did was make a sound and dent the pot (which was ruined anyway, but, well, looks like he owed Nell a new pot...).
So, with a sigh, Gladio just tossed the ruined pot of failed oatmeal into the sink, ran some water into it in case that ended up helping, and went to fish out another one.
"Okay," he murmured to himself, setting the pot aside and going to carefully measure out some ingredients all over again, "round two."
He was pretty sure he knew where he'd gone wrong and things would go better this time around, but if he still managed to mess this up, he was honestly going to call it a win if he could manage to eke something edible off of this stove without having to admit defeat to Nell or call Ignis for advice.
[[ and obviously for the bossy woman whose pans didn't deserve this, and NFB for distance ]]
(There was, after all, a part of him that thought burning this house down might be the best thing for it, but he was trying not to think too hard on that).
He didn't really think much of it, because it was oatmeal, anyone could make oatmeal, and he expected it might be a little different because of Nell's warnings about using the woodstove, but how much different could it actually be?
Different enough, it would seem, that he was pretty sure he'd ruined this pot entirely. Frowning, holding it up, Gladio tried poking at what had become a pretty much charred lump of what could have been oatmeal at the bottom of the pan with a knife to see if he could get it off, but no such luck. There was a firm smack of the pot on the side of the counter, but all that did was make a sound and dent the pot (which was ruined anyway, but, well, looks like he owed Nell a new pot...).
So, with a sigh, Gladio just tossed the ruined pot of failed oatmeal into the sink, ran some water into it in case that ended up helping, and went to fish out another one.
"Okay," he murmured to himself, setting the pot aside and going to carefully measure out some ingredients all over again, "round two."
He was pretty sure he knew where he'd gone wrong and things would go better this time around, but if he still managed to mess this up, he was honestly going to call it a win if he could manage to eke something edible off of this stove without having to admit defeat to Nell or call Ignis for advice.
[[ and obviously for the bossy woman whose pans didn't deserve this, and NFB for distance ]]
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Mostly.
She'd made herself a cup of tea and removed herself to the living room where if she sat in just the right chair she could juuuust manage to watch Gladio at the stove. Luckily the pot he'd just ruined hadn't been one of her favorites - and a lot of elbow grease could probably resurrect it anyway.
She shook her head as he pulled out another pot. Should she say anything? Maybe she should go throw together a quick bread to toss in the oven?
No, she'd let him do this and manage to choke down whatever he made. It seemed to mean a lot to him to be able to make the oatmeal on his own, so she'd let him be. Though she couldn't quite leave him entirely out to dry...
"Need any help in there?"
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But...he had never been about that. Sure, he had no problem with letting people who were not only better at it, but enjoyed cooking, taking the reins, be it Iris or Ignis or now Nell, but he could do it, even if it wasn't usually as complicated or interesting or even as good as those people could produce. He'd definitely made oatmeal before, just never on a stove like this, and so it was just that it was unfamiliar. But now that he knew...
"Just a trial run," he insisted, getting the next pot started with renewed confidence, determination....and a much more careful eye. "Working out the kinks. You really weren't kidding about the woodstove being different..."
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Nell went back to her tea, smiling. Gladio cooked for them occasionally and was always quick to help out in the kitchen, but no man had ever lifted a finger before in this kitchen and she loved him even more for sticking with it. And her.
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He lifted the pot off the stove to give it a little experimental testing, stirring it and then scooping up some of the oatmeal and tilting the spoon to see how it glopped or glooped or didn't back into the pot with narrowed, judicious eyes. And then he eyed the stove suspiciously for a moment before setting it back, daring to add a little cinnamon and sugar, and watched as it eventually started to bubble and, when one of those bubbles popped, quickly stirred it and tested it again with a nod.
Until he dug a little deeper in the pot and saw a similar layer of burnt oatmeal clinging to the bottom, and he wrinkled his nose at it, and took it as a sign that if he kept going, he'd run into the same problem, and how did it manage to seem both undercooked and overcooked at the same time? Maybe by the time he scooped it out, it would have balanced out?
He did go ahead and scoop it out, before it was too late, and emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls in hand and a triumphant look on his face.
"See?" he said, lofty for a moment before handing Nell's bowl over to her with a bit of a bow. "Nothing to it."
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And no matter how this tasted, she was going to eat it and enjoy it.
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Gladio just snorted after shoveling in a spoonful. "After all I've faced down before, it'd be pretty sad if it's a stove that finally does me in."
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plasteroatmeal. "So... Deer hunting after breakfast?"no subject
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By late morning, everything was done and Nell was sitting again with a cup of tea. "Phew. There's that so done. Thank you. It's never have gotten it all finished today without you."