Priestly tended to go a little extra scruffy in times of emotional stress. Especially ones like now, where he decided a good way to deal with it was to spend a long weekend out in a national park living in a tent and "communing with nature
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Admittedly, he wouldn't blame her if she didn't.
He finished shaking out his boots and came in properly. "Are you cooking?"
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"And. Uhm." She looked behind her. "Actually I'm cleaning! I cooked Saturday."
Yes, it was Monday. So what?"
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"Uhm. I don't think it has a name. I just threw some things together because Jaime was coming over. It totally took forever to make, though?"
The fettuccine was cold so she'd warmed that up, not even thinking what to do with it. Then she'd found the hamburger and decided to add that, so she'd needed to brown the meat. And then she wanted to put onions in for flavour but the pan was dirty from the meat, so that meant she needed to use another pan. And then the tomatoes, because everything Mrs Reyes made with tomatoes was tasty! But they needed a pot. And then there was the bowl to mix it all, except she'd overflowed the first one and had to pour it into a second one (she'd cleaned up the floor, don't worry!) and then mix it all up... but it didn't look right and she'd finally decided to bake it in a casserole dish!
Ah!
"It was a casserole, though!"
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Priestly gaped at the kitchen. "Did you use every dish you own?" His tone was more sort of baffled and vaguely awe-struck than judgey. He kept to a very strict stance of non-judgement. Just -- how many pans did she need?
"I'm sure Jaime loved it?"
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"It looks much better now that I've put all the dishes in the sink and scrubbed the counters down."
She was going to have to buy more cleanser when she went shopping.
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He wasn't too busy to shoot her a concerned look, though. "What'd you fight about?"
Focussing on Momo: way easier than dealing with any of his own shit.
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"Eh! What are you doing?" Not that she minded the help, of course, but she had to make some sort of protest... as she picked up the towel to dry. (Yay, help!!!)
"I made him go take his DATs while I went and saved some hostages on my own. He wanted to put them off and go help, too."
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If they hadn't, he had a feeling the kitchen would be a way bigger mess. Along with the rest of the apartment. And hopefully someone would have called him home from the desert to help. Did Mrs. Wilson have his number?
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Okay, was this onion fused to the pan?
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Don't ask what had happened to the "croutons". Just remind her that they were out of bread when she next went shopping.
"He didn't!" and her smile showed how very happy she was about that!! "But I was afraid he would. We're trying to work on our communication because we've had so many problems in the past about it and we don't want to mess up things this time, but I was totally sure he was too mad at me."
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She shrugged. "I like to get everything out in the open when I'm mad. When people walk away from me, it makes me feel like they don't think what I have to say is important. That makes me madder. Or sad, when it comes to him. So I don't really calm down."
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