Dinner and Dessert
A/N: Angel attempts making dinner – I do not own Rent.
Reviews are amazing *hint*hint*
Rated T for language.
"What's all this?" Tom Collins asked as he stepped inside the tiny apartment he shared with his Angel.
"I am making dinner," she announced proudly, waving her warms to show off the pans upon the stove. One began to bubble over and Tom began to snicker, "Oh shit!" Angel hissed, retrieving the pot from the stove.
"I thought you had given up trying to cook after that last fiasco," Collins reminded her.
"Hey! It is not my fault that that damn Pop Tart caught fire!"
"Ange, you are the only gal I know who can catch a fuckin' Pop Tart on fire," Collins chuckled as he lifted a lid from one of the pots, "So what are we having?"
"It's a surprise," Angel pouted, "Now shoo or you'll spoil it!"
"Alright, alright," Collins backed out of the kitchen, "I'm going."
Angel returned to her pots and pans. She had never been one to cook, but then again, no one had ever taken the time to teach her. She sniffed at one of the pots before deciding it needed a bit more spice.
"Is it done yet?" Collins asked, clearly bored.
"Not yet!" Angel shouted back.
She had never made spaghetti with homemade sauce before and she was trying her best. The noodles had boiled over, and she assumed they were done. As she stirred them up with the spoon, she remembered something Mimi had told her once.
"Making pasta is fun."
"Why?"
"Because you get to throw it, silly!"
"Throw it?"
"Yes! To see if the pasta is done, you throw it against a wall to see if it sticks."
At the time, Angel that thought that sounded pretty silly. Throwing pasta – honestly! She eyed the pot before her, a small smile creeping across her lips.
It did sound like fun though.
She stuck her hand into the pot, grabbed a handful of pasta, turned around, and flung it at the wall. Squealing with delight, Angel jumped up and down. That past fell to the floor, but it certainly was fun throwing it.
"Angel? What's going on?" Collins asked, "Hon, I know you're new to this whole cooking thing, but I believe we are supposed to eat the pasta, not throw it."
"Aw," Angel pouted, "You just don't know how fun it is. Here, try!"
"I am not going to throw my food at the walls like a monkey."
Angel turned sharply on her heels, "Fine then. You don't have to."
"Ange…"
"Nope, sorry. You can just go sit out there."
"Angel…I'm sorry. Look, if you really want me to, I will throw some of the pasta."
"You will?" Her face lit up.
"Yes."
Angel excitedly handed him the pot, "Now just aim and throw. It's so easy!"
Collins rolled his eyes but did as she said. Surprisingly, it was fun.
"Thomas Collins," Angel put her hands on her hips, "Now, is that a smile I see?"
Collins grinned, "Angel, you can always make me smile."
Angel let a smile creep across her face before she dug back into the pot, grabbed another handful, and tossed it, right at Collins.
"What the…Angel!"
Angel doubled over, laughing, "You have a noodle hanging from your ear," she giggled.
"So its war you want, little girl? Its war you will get!"
Collins grabbed some pasta and tossed it at her. Their fight continued for another few minutes until all the pasta was scattered across the floor.
"Well, there goes dinner," Angel said, staring intently at a pile of noodles.
"We still have dessert."
"I didn't make any…oh – oh!" Angel's eyes widened, "Professor, you always know how to make the best dessert."
"Only you for you, my dear."