Continuity: Catalysts
Length: Ficlet
Pairings: 1xR
Prompt: Sugar rush
Teaser: "Miss Relena faced her first battle at the ripe old age of nine. The enemy? The family cook. The weapons? A child's iron will and implacable palate against the cook's irritability and control over the household menu."
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5402695/4/Catalysts
Disclaimer: GW = not mine.
Author's Note: Well, I'm basing this a bit on personal experience. More on that later. This is done in a slightly different style than the other stories in this collection.
Catalysts
by mistress amethyst une
Ala Carte
Heero can't ascertain Pagan's objective in inviting him to lunch. Still, the former Gundam pilot finds himself sitting opposite the elderly butler at the kitchen table, both dining on a meager meal of bread and cream-based stew.
Pagan clears his throat, something Heero has come to interpret as a prompt for one to start a conversation. Politely, he begins by asking about the older man's well-being.
Pagans cuts to the chase, his gravelly voice blurting something through a mouthful of bread. Heero finds the words unintelligible and requests clarification.
"Miss Relena once subsisted on a diet comprised solely of sugar cubes and gravy for the duration of a week," repeats Pagan, a faint flash of his porcelain dentures appearing as he presents a wry smile.
Heero's eyes widen a bit in disbelief. The statement is candid, bereft of the usual formality Pagan usually employs.
"It's called an ice breaker, Mr. Yuy," continues Pagan, taking a brief but dignified sip of water, all his fingers wrapped around the glass. Heero has never seen Pagan at mealtime before. On occasion, the old man would serve Relena tea, sometimes joining her. Heero was there to watch, and Pagan always sipped from his teacup with his pinky sticking out. It's a bit strange seeing him in a different setting.
Knowing that etiquette dictates he respond, Heero tries to speak but finds himself tongue-tied. It seems that Relena isn't alone in having a knack for leaving him at a loss for words. Pagan shrugs slightly, dipping his bread into the stew.
"I'll take your silence as an old man's license to monologue," he says, swallowing another bite. "Objections?"
Heero shakes his head, ignoring his meal in anticipation of Pagan's speech. Any excuse to stay silent is welcome at this point. Maybe listening will clear up the cloud of befuddlement forming in his head.
"Sugar cubes and gravy," Pagan tells him animatedly as he shakes his head. There appears to be some sense of amused disdain at the memory. "Miss Relena faced her first battle at the ripe old age of nine. The enemy? The family cook. The weapons? A child's iron will and implacable palate against the cook's irritability and control over the household menu."
Pagan must think a dramatic pause is in order since he stops then and there for another quick bite or two before gulping down some more water. Heero raises an eyebrow, mildly irked and altogether confused at where this was going.
"She was difficult to please. If she didn't like the meal, she would say so. She didn't throw tantrums but, as you already know, she's very vocal. Polite but opinionated. Playing the part of a good little girl, she would eat what was on her plate but later present the cook with her critique. The cook was bit sensitive, and never again cooked any dish Miss Relena didn't like. One day, he finally lost his temper. Our little miss had nothing but criticism for a meal that had taken hours to make, a dish he considered his specialty. To think that he could never cook that meal again without remembering the distaste it had met set his blood boiling. Since Miss Relena's parents were away on holiday, he decided on revenge."
Heero's eyes are completely focused on Pagan. Several hypotheses and scenarios play out in the perfect soldier's head. What sort of revenge? An assassination plot, perhaps? How did Relena thwart it? Was she more adept at self-defense than she let on? And what did all this have to do with "sugar cubes and gravy?"
"For an entire week," chortles Pagan, "he served her nothing but sugar cubes and gravy. At first, Miss Relena found it a welcome novelty. Up until then, she poured gravy on almost everything, and you've seen how much sugar she adds to her coffee and tea. However, by the third day, she had made herself sick with this culinary hedonism. She pretty much defeated herself. She couldn't tell the cook she didn't like it. What if the cook never gave her gravy or sugar ever again? And tattling to her parents never even crossed her mind. She wanted her mother and father to enjoy their holiday. Besides, if she she told, the cook might be fired. Grouchy as he was, she liked having him around. On occasion, he would bring his daughter by, and the girl was one of a scant number of playmates who didn't worship the ground she walked on. I suppose it must be in her blood. Even at that age, she was ever the pacifist. One could suppose that this was her first real exercise in diplomacy, the one that started it all."
Pagan dusts the crumbs off the table and into the napkin on his lap as Heero glares, knowing that can't possibly be the end of the tale. He wants to prompt Pagan to continue but it's not his in nature to express excessive eagerness over something, let alone a silly story.
"I'm only too glad to say that the princess got a happy ending," grins Pagan upon seeing Heero's expression. Seemingly ecstatic, he flashes the orthodontic wonder of the whitest set of dentures Heero has ever laid eyes on. The man could read minds.
"After that entire fiasco, Miss Relena finally had a good long talk with the cook, asking him about why he was upset with her and so on. She was incredibly charming. They made a deal of sorts. I'm not exactly sure of the specifics but Miss Relena went on cleaning her plates and highlighting the positives of each meal whether or not she liked it. The household was at peace, and her parents were none the wiser."
Pagan stands to clear his own bowl, "Now, I really must go and attend to my duties. You've hardly touched your food, Mr. Yuy. I would advise that you finish it. It really is quite delicious. Thank you for your company, and for letting an old man prattle on. I can see now why you and Miss Relena are a good match."
Pagan leaves without elaborating, only increasing Heero's confusion as he sits at the table with a bowl of cold stew and a half-eaten piece of bread. Has he undergone some sort of test without knowing it?
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Prompt is "sugar rush."What inspired this fic is the fact that the family cook and I don't get along too well. I think it's because I openly reject her cooking when I don't like it and munch on my own clumsily made burnt toast and Zero Cal. Zero Cal is evil, btw. Tastes like diluted carbonated cough syrup. I can see very well why she'd be insulted but I still prefer that to tripe in peanut sauce or vegetables in shrimp paste or that bony fish my mother's always requesting which I choke on without fail. She makes great stuff, too. Among other things, I always eat her chicken feet and her oriental beef stew. But yeah, when I get picky, we clash. She's been making stuff I don't like more and more often as a passive strike.
