#ohwrite

Slips asked for a simple gathering for her birthday. Well, asked may be a strong word for what really seemed to occur, which was Hero verbally strong-arming her into celebrating, rather than her previously desired arrangement to do nothing. Narratively, she was apparently forced to do this. Call it a special episode.

Anyways, the two roommates invited some people the two mutually knew to their little apartment, now only marginally cleaner and more put together than it typically is in preparation for their arrivals. Hero (with Slips’ insistent help) put up some Dollar Tree decorations along with whatever decoration-y items they could find around the apartment—paper clips strung together, paper plates with doodles on them, bandaids stuck to the wall to form the letters “KAASEY” in the kitchen. Slips noted that a few of Hero’s…fabric creations somehow snuck into the fray as well, imperfect loops and spirals in misshapen masks proudly expressing their mediocrity over the television stand. She supposed that she’d let Hero win this battle, just this once.

As to not rack up money on their already meager combined funds as the epitome of “broke college student”, the two called for a potluck arrangement, asking guests to bring some type of dish rather than a gift. (though Slips wouldn’t necessarily say she was opposed to receiving gifts.) To this, there were varying responses. All positive just…puzzling, perhaps. Deetee seemed thrilled by the prospect, telling Hero to leave dessert to her. H said he’d “pull something together” once he figured out some strange noise his apartment roommate was making, which seemed like a can of worms on its own. K was told he didn’t really need to bring anything, especially since his sister was coming, but he very excitedly claimed he was making “something that’ll blow their socks off” anyways. Xeno just gave a thumbs up with no indication of what she was going to bring. Only Alcamus seemed to give a normal response, claiming that she was going to be busy that day but would drop by with some pizza if she wasn’t swept by her shift or studying.

There was still perhaps half an hour until the designated start time for the small celebration. Slips, despite being the figure of celebration, did make sure to bring her own contribution and already had it laid out on their small table. Plastic utensils, napkins, and paper plates. She managed to find some plates that were cow themed, which was, of course, an instant grab for her. Were they meant for kids? Perhaps, but it added to the comedic element of the story, which is a necessary for breaking the ice and tension in a scene. Obviously, it’s how the narrative would want it to be.

She sat there in front of the table now, idle on their couch, waiting for the festivities to start. She picked at a loose thread on the armchair of the couch, the frayed, green-gray edges exposing the age that brought it to the thrift store prior to their home. The hum and gurgle of electronic cooking equipment, as well as the strong scent of food engulfing the kitchen created a sensory hodgepodge that made Slips already start bemoaning the inevitable headache that was going to arrive with the guests and all of their loud, distinctive energies.

“Slips!” Her eyes leisurely crawled over to the attention of the kitchen, where Hero was poking her head out, beckoning Slips with a cheap mitted hand. “Come over and try this to see if you like it.”

She hoisted herself out of the sofa with a sigh, joining her roommate. The room seemed even more claustrophobic than normal with the messy scatter of cans, pots, pans, and other materials assorted among their countertops. They seemed to take up every bit of room and then some more, stealing away whatever other spare area Slips didn’t even know they were capable of stealing.

Hero seemed unbothered by the mess and the tight spacing as she grinned at Slips, pride beaming through her toothy smile as she led her over to the electric stove, a tall dark pot making itself known against their plain white walls. Hero opened the lid with the mitted hand and peered in, letting free the scent of some mixtures that Slips couldn’t quite identify, but was still tantalizing enough to get her thinking about the last time she ate today. Or yesterday. Whenever she made that microwavable mac and cheese “meal”. Hero, seemingly satisfied with what she saw, set the lid down atop some discarded cardboard packaging and stepped aside, beckoning Slips forward.

Slips leaned over the pot and immediately hissed as the heat hit her face, her lenses filled with steam. Behind her, she could hear a quiet chuckle, which she threw a backwards glare at (with a childish tongue out) then turned back to the pot to smush her palm against her face, pushing her glasses atop her head, and peer in.

It was a stew, though it was hard to tell what type because of the weak overhead lighting in the kitchen revealing little about the broth’s color. She spotted some stringy pieces of chicken, aromatically identifying them as chicken, floating alongside some chopped and diced vegetables. She couldn’t help feeling a bit of surprise, followed by fondness, for how much effort Hero seemed to put into making the meal just for celebrating her birthday. It was certainly miles beyond the amount of effort Slips typically put into any meal she made for herself.

“Sancocho.” Hero supplied from behind. Slips turned back towards her voice. She still looked pleased with herself, but it was now softened with a fondness in the corners of her mouth. “It’s like the perfect everything food. At least, in my home it is. This isn’t as fresh, since I had to used canned ingredients, but I think it works good enough for now.” She stepped forward to the pot, bumping a toned arm to Slips’ smaller arm with the tight spacing, produced a ladle from somewhere beyond the pot where Slips couldn’t see, and dipped it in the pot, producing a steaming, overflowing sampling.

“Here, try some.”

Slips looked at the soup with something akin to repulsion. “Like…all of it?”

“What else?”

She inspected the ladle again, then gingerly took a more appealing part from the scoop, a piece of chicken, and popped it in her mouth.

“That’s pretty good. Well seasoned.” She mused, then looked towards Hero, who seemed to be giving her a narrow eyed look of bafflement. Or disdain.

“You know, the soup part of the soup is part of the experience.” She stated.

“I don’t. Like. Non-solid-y things.”

Hero huffed. “Of course not.” The burning feeling of guilt sliding through Slips chest suddenly felt way worse than the imagined discomfort in consuming broth. Slips grabbed the ladle from Hero’s hand to bring to her lips, but stopped short with a shout from Hero and a hand over Slips’ mouth.

“WAIT, it’s still hot.” Hero said.

“Oh.” Slips said, dumbly.

“Did you burn yourself?”

“I didn’t actually get to try it.”

“You don’t have to eat something you don’t want, you know. It’s fine.” Hero said.

“Can I just…get, like, the stuff in it? Like the chicken and veggie and stuff?”