Fic: It's the thought that counts
FANDOM: Primeval
PAIRING: Danny/Becker
WORD COUNT: 377
NOTES: For the Primeval_Denial Valentines Gift Box exchange for Isamazed, using the prompt “Oh my God, that was awful!”
It’s the thought that counts
Danny tried to hide the wince as he chewed his mouthful of pasta, wondering how on earth Becker had managed to cook a meal that was both burned and undercooked at the same time. The spaghetti itself was still crunchy, yet the sauce had little burned bits in it. He was afraid to try one of the meatballs, unsure whether it would lead to food poisoning or a broken tooth.
He didn’t have the heart to say anything, however, as Becker looked so pleased with himself for surprising Danny by preparing the meal. He’d set the table with candles and a tablecloth, glasses of wine… He’d really made an effort. It was just a shame that the man couldn’t cook.
“How is it?”
Danny forced himself to swallow the mouthful he had and smiled. “Great.”
Becker smiled back, picking up his cutlery and starting to eat his own meal. He frowned, trying another mouthful, before his face fell.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he said miserably.
“I know you did, and it’s great.”
Becker shook his head and pushed his plate away from him. “Thanks for lying, but what I lack in cooking skills I make up for in taste buds. I know how bad it is. It’s just that you’re always making meals for me, and I wanted to repay that.”
“Ok, honestly? That was awful,” Danny admitted, “but I love that you did all this for me.”
“Even though I could have poisoned you?”
Danny laughed. “Even after that. Look, if you really wanted, I could teach you a few things - nothing complicated, just a few easy recipes.”
“Really?”
He helped Becker take the plates back into the kitchen, reaching for the pile of takeout menus that were wedged into the cupboard behind a wine bottle.
“Of course. In the meantime, however, Chinese or Indian?” he asked, holding up the menus.
~ ~ ~ ~
Becker sat back and surveyed the empty takeout containers on the table. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had planned, but I’ve had a pretty good evening.”
“Only pretty good?” Danny asked. “How about we see if we can get that to ‘excellent’,” he suggested, grabbing Becker’s hand to pull him toward the sofa.
~ ~ ~ ~
End
.
PAIRING: Danny/Becker
WORD COUNT: 377
NOTES: For the Primeval_Denial Valentines Gift Box exchange for Isamazed, using the prompt “Oh my God, that was awful!”
It’s the thought that counts
Danny tried to hide the wince as he chewed his mouthful of pasta, wondering how on earth Becker had managed to cook a meal that was both burned and undercooked at the same time. The spaghetti itself was still crunchy, yet the sauce had little burned bits in it. He was afraid to try one of the meatballs, unsure whether it would lead to food poisoning or a broken tooth.
He didn’t have the heart to say anything, however, as Becker looked so pleased with himself for surprising Danny by preparing the meal. He’d set the table with candles and a tablecloth, glasses of wine… He’d really made an effort. It was just a shame that the man couldn’t cook.
“How is it?”
Danny forced himself to swallow the mouthful he had and smiled. “Great.”
Becker smiled back, picking up his cutlery and starting to eat his own meal. He frowned, trying another mouthful, before his face fell.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he said miserably.
“I know you did, and it’s great.”
Becker shook his head and pushed his plate away from him. “Thanks for lying, but what I lack in cooking skills I make up for in taste buds. I know how bad it is. It’s just that you’re always making meals for me, and I wanted to repay that.”
“Ok, honestly? That was awful,” Danny admitted, “but I love that you did all this for me.”
“Even though I could have poisoned you?”
Danny laughed. “Even after that. Look, if you really wanted, I could teach you a few things - nothing complicated, just a few easy recipes.”
“Really?”
He helped Becker take the plates back into the kitchen, reaching for the pile of takeout menus that were wedged into the cupboard behind a wine bottle.
“Of course. In the meantime, however, Chinese or Indian?” he asked, holding up the menus.
~ ~ ~ ~
Becker sat back and surveyed the empty takeout containers on the table. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had planned, but I’ve had a pretty good evening.”
“Only pretty good?” Danny asked. “How about we see if we can get that to ‘excellent’,” he suggested, grabbing Becker’s hand to pull him toward the sofa.
~ ~ ~ ~
End
.