To Cook ... or Not to Cook

All was quiet in 2Fort.  The fighting had halted for a good while and no one expected it to restart for another few days.  As usual, when this happened, everyone took the chance to sleep in late, catch up on some much needed R 'n' R, and well … just chill.  Everyone, that is, except Scout.  It hadn't taken the youngest member of the team long to get bored of the lack of action.  So here it was, 4 AM and the boy was pacing in his room while everyone else slept.  He'd like to say that this didn't happen often, but during these breaks, it was quite a common occurrence.  He was edgy and itching to do something.  But what?  He sat down for a brief moment, staring at his door before standing right back up again and heading down the corridor.  This tick wasn't healthy and Scout found this even more so as he rounded the corner.  He had this uncontrollable urge … to cook.

Now, it was pretty well known around 2Fort that Scout wasn't to be left alone in the kitchen – ever.  The last time, he nearly blew it up while cooking a can of Vienna Sausages.  Since then, if he was allowed in, he was to be monitored.  At all times!  Seeing as it was four in the morning, the boy knew good and well that no one was even near being awake to watch him at another attempt of creating something … good?  Out of all the things he was, a cook was something he wasn't.  And he knew this fact all too well.  He was the kind of guy who could more than easily burn popcorn.  BUT THAT DIDN'T MATTER!  He'd had practice!  And not to mention that he'd been watching Medic and Engineer cook.  It didn't look so hard and he really wanted an omelet.  In fact, just the thought of the fluffy eggs, gooey cheese and baked sausage was making his stomach growl and his salivary glands work over-time.  With a small hop, he broke into a run, not being able to wait much longer to start his attempt.

In a matter of seconds, he was pushing passed the door to the room that he was ultimately forbidden to enter.  He gave a smug grin, slowly slipping his foot passed the threshold as if testing to see if there was some sort of trap set up.  Thank god Engineer hadn't thought that far in advance.  If he knew, he was sure to get a wrench over the head.  Though, this was highly likely even at this moment.  Even with that thought in the back of his mind, he pushed forward still, quietly closing the door behind him as he fully entered the kitchen – if that's really what you could call it.  It was quite dirty and smelled funny; sorta like burnt oil and raw meat.  Disgusting really, but that didn't turn Scout's mind from the task at hand!  He hunched over a bit, his eyes squinting a bit as he searched the room for what he'd need.  With a skip, he moved over to a cabinet, pulling a skillet from it and placing it quietly on the stove top before turning it between low and medium and walking to the fridge.  There wasn't really much in there other than a few dozen eggs, a gallon of nearly expired milk and a block of cheese.  Rations would be coming any day now but what was there was perfect!  He grasped the cartons of eggs, the block of cheese and the milk, performing some sort of balancing act that would impress or frighten any on-looker before turning from the refrigerator, using his foot to close the door as he did a giddy sorta jive to the stove and placing the items on the counter top beside it.  With a quick dash back to the fridge, he pulled it open, grabbing out a stick of butter and ducking down to a cabinet right next to it, removing a rather large bowl.  As he did as such, he reached up, pulling out the drawer just above him to grasp for a fork, narrowly dodging said drawer as he got back to his feet, shutting all three before returning to his ingredients.

He looked down, giving an amused smile and clasping his hands together.  “Aight!  Food time!”  He gripped his hand into a fist, giving a slight shake of it before pulling the bowl and eggs over to him.  One by one, he cracked the eggs, careful to keep the egg shells out until he had cracked all three dozen into the bowl.  To anyone who would have been watching, they might have thought the boy was crazy – and he might have been.  He was pretty hungry, but he knew damned well that he'd still be itching to do something if he only made one.  Besides, this was sorta his chance to show the guys that he wasn't just some nuisance of a kid who didn't belong there.  With the fork, he whisked the eggs, adding a bit of milk to the mixture until it was a nice, smooth, pale yellow.  He left the mixture, propping the fork up on the bowl as he turned, attempting to remember which cabinet the plates were in.  This took him a moment, seeing as he generally wasn't supposed to be there and thus had to find things on his own or remember from past experience.  He played  a quick game of “Ennie-meanie-miney-mo” to settle on which place to check first, surprised when his guess was spot on.  Not the most flattering flat-wear, but this was war.  Chips and cracks were to be expected!  Balancing the plates on his arm, he returned to the silverware drawer, pulling from it nine forks and placing them on the top plate, continuing his act as he moved to set them next to his work area.  With a bound, he diverted his direction, moving once again behind him to their ration cabinet.  Scout pulled the door aside with a jerk, eying the contents before grabbing up a dozen or so cans of Vienna Sausages.  Not that he's use them all, but it was better to be safe then sorry!  He gave another rather large grin, bouncing back to the stove and dropping the cans on the unused portion of the stove top.  He grasped up the butter, coating the now hot pan before picking back up his egg/milk mix and giving it a quick stir then pouring in enough to coat the bottom of the pan and then some.

The eggs immediately sizzled a bit, causing the boy to wince at the sound before putting down the bowl and beginning a frantic search for a spatula.  Honestly, he probably looked more scatterbrained than he normally did as he went through each drawer, looking for the damned utensil!  And of course, it was in the last place he looked.  Thankfully, he'd done this in a rather quick manner – as he did most things – and they eggs were in no threat of burning.  But he was rather impatient.  He watched the yellow liquid very sloooowly become more and more solid as he prodded it slightly.  “GAH!”  He slumped over a bit, giving the treat a glare.  No matter.  He could take this time to grate the cheese and cut up the sausages.  Not that either took long – at least not with him doing it!  He took a half a handful of cheese and sprinkled it on to the eggs, watching in delight as it almost instantly began to melt and then added the equivalent of three sausages to the almost omelet as well.  He stood there, staring at his creation before picking up the spatula and swallowing hard.  Flipping eggs or pancakes was never his specialty and typically, whatever he was cooking ended up looking like some sort of mush if that particular process was involved.  And this was no different.

Through the kitchen, the curses and cries of “FUCK!”, “GOD DAMN IT!”, “SHIT!”, and “CRAP!” echoed off the walls with each omelet he made.  Much to his dismay, none of the nine turned out even remotely looking like it should.  In fact, as he looked over the nine plates, he was pretty positive that the little piles of slightly browned – from the butter! - egg, cheese and sausage mix didn't look edible at all.  No matter that it smelled simply wonderful!  Presentation was just as important as the meal itself, and Scout had failed at at least that.  He heaved a bit of a sigh, picking up a few plates to balance on his arms as he transferred the meal from the kitchen to the table that they very rarely shared all at once.  A sudden dread and disappointment took over him as he began setting the table.  He'd be lucky if they ate and didn't beat him for using a good portion of what was left of their food supply until rations came.  He swallowed hard, disappearing back into the kitchen after eight of the nine plates were set.  If they wanted him dead after this, he wanted to at least enjoy his last meal.

Engineer was the first to wake up as the smell of butter and eggs slowly crept through 2Fort.  He looked over at the clock, curious as to who exactly was awake at 5:30 in the morning.  His eyes went wide as the weight of the situation suddenly hit him in the head like a ton of bricks.  “SCOUT!”  He was on his feet and pulling on his overalls before his mind could catch up with his body.  It seemed his yell woke everyone else up as they met him at their respective doors, noses in the air taking in the smell but very quickly realizing who of their team was missing.  A look and feel of dismay filled the dinning area as they all pushed in, seeing the table set and not seeing the youngest member.  Scout, of course, was standing just in the doorway, peeking in at his comrades who seemed to be in a state of despair despite still being in their pajamas or robes – except for Spy, but many of them thought he slept in his mask and suit anyway, so it was close enough.  The boy watched curiously as Engineer stepped closer to the table, eying the plates before taking his seat.  Medic and Sniper soon followed which in turn peaked the curiosity of Heavy, Demoman and Pyro.  Soldier and Spy were the last ones to sit and Scout swallowed hard, watching as they all were poking at the mounds of eggy/cheese/sausage mix on the poor excuses of plates that were placed on the even poorer excuse of a table.

“So, who iz going to be ze first to try zis … meal?”  Spy looked around, noticing that everyone was avoiding his eyes.  “No one?”  There was a bit of amusement in his voice.

“Ah'll do it.”  Scout was almost taken aback as the Texan offered first bite.

“Viel Glueck,” wished Medic as his eyes were intent on Engineer, mumbling a – was that a prayer? - under his breath as the gruff male cut off a piece of omelet, stabbed it with the fork and slowly moved it to his lips.  He gave a hard swallow before opening his mouth, counting to three and taking in the bite.  Scout fidgeted, watching as the man winced, as if expecting the meal to be overly horrible and kill him instantly.  However, with each chew, the man's face untwisted until he was actually nodding and swallowing the bite.

“It's … not bad.”  His thick southern accent was filled with astonishment and Scout beamed to himself.  They at least weren't going to kill him for the way it tasted!  The boy watched as the man took another bite, much more willing this time, followed by another and another.  This, in turn, caused the others' curiosity to grow and one by one, they too were digging into their breakfast.

Seeing as they were enjoying themselves, Scout drew a wide grin on his face, standing up straight before pushing the door aside and making his own entrance.  “Hey guys!  How's the grub?”

He was only greeted with a few nods and some grunts of contentment.  “Yeah yeah!  I know.  It's been a while since anyone has actually had a decent, home-cooked meal!”

Engineer was the first to finish.  “Boy, that was the best thing I have eaten in years!”  Scout could feel his own ego swelling.

“Yeah, well, I like to think I've got a few more skills than just hurtin' people.”  He gave a smug grin, leaning against the door frame for a moment before pushing from it and crossing the room.

He'd done well and that was all that mattered.  Well, that and that he had a full stomach.  With any luck, the battle would start up and he wouldn't get bored again.  And speaking of.  He stopped at the opposite door frame, looking over his shoulder.  “Oh yeah!  I cooked, so you guys get to fight over who does dishes!”  He gave a laugh, lifting a hand into the air as he turned and left the dinning area, pulling the door shut.  The action alone caused the kitchen door to fall from its hinges, unveiling the mess that the boy had left in the kitchen.

“Gentlemen.”  Spy was the first to get up, nodding slightly before disappearing.

“Oh!  Look at ze time!”  Medic quickly stood, giving a half laugh.  “You know.  Work to do, charts to organize!”  He was out the door just as Sniper and Engineer were standing.

“Ah took tha first bite!”

“Gotta make sure they're no' movin' in on our defenses.  Lata, mates!”

Soldier just smirked.  “Like hell I'm washin' dishes!  That's a woman's job!”

Heavy agreed, following the American from the room.

This left the Scotsman and Pyro.  “Have fun!”  Demoman was up and out of the room before Pyro could even think of reacting.

“Mmmrrfff...”  He looked down at his plate – the only one that was still full after the meal.  He hadn't even eaten and yet he was stuck with dishes.  What dumb luck.  Oh well.  He stood from the table, giving a bit of a muffled laugh.  He'd make sure they never left him with dish duty again!

~The End … or is it?

*insert crazed Pryo laugh/taunt here*