Voi_Writes

If Lance had any idea his normal day would turn into a night trip at a long since abandoned cemetery, he would have changed his shoes. While he absolutely loved his vans, they did nothing to stop the slew of mud across his ankles, and after enough slimy steps, across the soles of his socks and feet.

He’s careful not to step into too many mud puddles, headlamp lighting up as much as the overgrown ground as it could, but given the cemetery was half swamp at this point, it was fruitless. Years of no visitors and no maintenance led to the church in the corner of the property to crumble. With that, however, it built half of a wall in front of the only escape for any rainwater. Water built up, with no maintenance plants built up, and now Lance was having as much luck safely getting through this cemetery as a cat trying to fight its reflection.

“This is so not worth it,” he mumbled under his breath, carefully placing his foot behind a gravestone so as to not slide through the massive brown puddle (half a pond, at this point with how far it stretched across this row of stones) in front of it. Sure, he’d do near anything for evidence, but maybe he should have come during the day.

“Maybe Pidge and Hunk are right,” Lance sighs, preparing to make his next step as his foot finally finds a safe spot. He can imagine his best friends’ faces falling as he grabbed the latest tip from Pidge’s printer and booked it out of her front door. No preparation or care for the sinking sun, just a mad dash to his car to look for any hint of…

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Let it be known: Shiro has plenty of talent. 

He can speak three languages (yes, Klingon counts), help lead a group of chaotic teens into becoming the universe’s heroes, fight with one arm tied…well, one arm, and is one of the rare few with the talent of waking a sleeping Holt (Pidge and Matt are demons in the morning).

So what if this one, little, itty-bitty thing he wasn’t so good at?

“Just keep reminding yourself, Shiro. You’re plenty talented,” he says to himself as he watches the smoke of what used to be an egg rise above the stove and seemingly head directly into the smoke detector. 

As the fire alarm goes off for the third time this month, Shiro just sighs and sits down on the floor to wait for the fire department to arrive. 

***

“Do we need to ban you from the kitchen again?”

Shiro blindly smacks his flesh arm around until it hits Adam. He smiles from where his head is leaned against their dining room table. 

Ha! Gottem.

His fiance just snorts.

“Feel accomplished?”

“Very,” Shiro responds, finally lifting his head. Adam raises one nearly perfectly groomed eyebrow, waiting for Shiro to respond to his question. Said eyebrow would be finished had Adam not had to stop to see whether this alarm was real. Personally, Shiro thinks the situation explains itself, but Adam would never let it slide now that his self-care time is being eaten into.

“...I tried making an egg again…”

“So that’s what it was.”

“Addaaammm,” Shiro whines, leaning onto Adam’s shoulder and nearly sending them both to the ground. 

“Takashi, this is on you. You know you can’t cook for shit. Why do you keep on trying?”

“I’m not that bad!”

Adam raises his other eyebrow this time. He actually had time to finish that one.

“I just sent the fire department away with cookies as a thank you for the holiday card they sent us. We know them so well they send us holiday cards, Takashi.”

“Maybe Daryl and Samantha are just nice people!”

“We know them all by name!”

Shiro sighs and closes his eyes. He lets himself be a lump as Adam struggles to move him so he can wrap an arm around Shiro. He isn’t letting the ‘you’re shit at it’ comment go so quickly.

“Maybe we can get you lessons?”

“We tried that. Now I’m banned from most places that offer classes, Hunk has me permanently banned from his kitchen, the Atlas kitchen, and the Garrison kitchen, and word got to the Holts so I’m banned from their kitchen on principle.”

Adam whistles.

“That’s…kind of impressive.”

“Adaamm-”

Adam shoves a hand over Shiro’s mouth before he can start whining again. 

“Nope. You have to admit it, Takashi. This is just the one thing you’re not good at, and that’s okay. That’s what you have me around for,” Adam says, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s forehead. 

His words lift some of the weight off Shiro’s shoulders. He nods and lets himself relax. 

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

Shiro pinches Adam’s side, making the tan man yelp and jerk to the side. 

“Woo-AH!”

Shiro tries to hold onto the table, but it’s too late. Adam’s chair tips over, and with his arm still around Shiro, he drags him down, too. Collapsing in a pile, Shiro feels the wind fly out of him. 

They both take a moment to catch their breath, as given Adam’s weezing, the wind was knocked from him, too. 

“You can’t even sit near the kitchen without something going wrong,” Adam finally says after a few moments of silence. 

Shiro just covers his eyes and groans.