Author's notes: This is a gift fic for Marika Webster. She's already done
two for me, plue she's just downright awesome, so… TADA! This is for
you!!! * bakes cookies *
~*~*~*~*~
Quatre yawned and rubbed his eyes as he glanced up at the clock on the wall of his 15th floor office. It was 1:30 AM already.
With a sigh, he glanced back at the piles of papers stacked not-so-neatly on the side of his desk. Throwing a death glare to the hated documents, the young man shoved them into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut.
"Time to go home…" he muttered as he trudged out of his office and into the lobby, not even bothering to shut off any lights. No one would care at this hour anyway.
It only took him ten minutes to reach his jet black Jaguar parked in the garage. He muttered something incoherent as he fumbled with the contents in his pocket and pulled out his keys. Finally… he could go home.
When he finally did reach home, he was surprised to see that there were no lights on in his mansion. 'That's funny…' he said to himself, 'A couple of the servants are usually still up and about at this hour…' He merely shrugged and let himself inside, assuming that all of the servants had gone to bed.
Confident that there was no one around, he wasted no time in shrugging out of his clothes as he made his way to the master bedroom. A shoe in the front hall, another in the living room, jacket tossed over the sofa, tie over the railing, etc.
By the time he reached his bedroom, he plopped down happily onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. He curled up under the covers and sighed contently, relishing the fact that tomorrow was Saturday. No work! That was his last thought as he finally surrendered to unconsciousness.
The next morning, Quatre awoke to a bright light shining in his eyes. He lifted one eyelid and cursed mentally as he realized that in his sleepy daze, he had forgotten to draw the shades. No problem. He merely flipped himself over and closed his eyes once more, happily facing away from the horrid sunlight.
That was when he realized that something was wrong. He sniffed the air curiously and opened his eyes once more. Usually, each morning, he would be greeted with the intoxicating aroma of vanilla coffee, his favorite, as well as the sound of clanging dishes coming from the kitchen downstairs. But there was nothing.
He tried to forget about it and go back to sleep, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He groaned, cursing himself for even caring as he stood up out of bed and pulled his robe off of the rack in the corner.
He poked his head outside of his bedroom door to survey the situation in the landing when he caught sight of something on the floor.
He walked outside and bent down, picking up a pair of pants, the same pair of pants that he had dropped there the previous night. Surely one of the servants would have noticed it and put it away!
Being the meticulously neat person that he is, Quatre gently folded the cloth in his arms and was about to walk back into his room when he noticed his white dress shirt lying crumpled on the stairs.
"What in the…" he shook his head and walked over to pick it up, his eyes traveling down the stairs to see the trail of clothing that he had left there last night. Why hadn't anyone picked them up? Not that he was complaining, it wasn't that big of a deal, but still, he was curious.
He spent the next minute gathering the scattered articles and piled them neatly on the sofa before peering into the kitchen, expecting to see at least a couple of servants there, but there was no one to be found. What was going on?
After about an hour of searching the massive house, finding rooms and closets that he'd never known existed, and also finding the particularly small closet that contained all of Duo's dirty magazines – that the braided man had denied to ever possessing in the first place – well, he'd deal with him later. Quatre plopped down on his sofa and sighed.
There was no one around, and he was getting nervy, damnit! Okay… he took this sudden surge of anger as a sign that he needed coffee – NOW!
Patting out to the kitchen, he examined the coffee pot with a certain child like curiosity. "Hmm… I wonder what this button does?"
About an hour later, Quatre carelessly threw his towel over the rack in the bathroom and pulled on some jeans and a polo shirt. With all the cheeriness he could muster, he walked with light steps out to his car and drove directly to the coffee roaster's.
The young heir sighed as he stared down at his fresh cup of coffee and downed it in one gulp. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and waited for the caffeine to take effect and pondered the potential predicament that he was facing.
He glanced down at his watch and sighed. It was already 9:30, and he was expecting company for lunch at 12:30. The problem was that he had no one to prepare it!
He shook his head and slumped down further into the comfy chair in the small coffee shop, making a mental note to thank the genius who decided to place soft furniture in the front of the store.
It only took him a few minutes to allow himself to accept the inevitable fate that he must face. He would have to manage a meal for his guests!
'He who works hard today will have food tomorrow.' A pesky little voice invaded his thoughts, and he shook his head. Absolutely not! His friends were coming over today! Not tomorrow.
Having come to a decision, Quatre stood up and headed back home, and confidently picked up his phone. "Hello, Mushu Chinese Restaurant? Yes, I'd like to place an advance order…" His plan was perfect! Order the food now, and take a nap until twelve! He would be ready by the time everyone arrived, and the food would be ready promptly at 12:40.
Only a moment passed until Quatre's eyes fell. Impossible!
About thirty minutes later, Quatre could be found in his dining room, facedown on the table, phone dangling from his hand and the phonebook – a mass of yellow shreds all over the room.
"I am so screwed!" Quatre's tortured voice shouted. He sat up and glared menacingly at the shreds of paper that littered the room. A holiday… a holiday! He just HAD to plan the event for one of those insignificant holidays that serve no purpose but giving bank tellers and apparently, restaurants a day off! Everyone was closed!
He let out a piteous wail as he realized that he had only two hours until everyone would arrive. He was about to give up when that annoying little voice scolded him once more.
'He who works hard today-"
"SHUT UP!" Quatre jumped up from his chair, clutching his head in his hands. "Enough already! I need food TODAY!! Not tomorrow!!!"
'Then why not make some?'
"I can't!"
'Why not?'
"I don't know how!"
'Then learn how!'
"What?! But…"
'But nothing! You need to feed your guests! Just get off your lazy, pampered butt and cook something already!'
"How?!"
He could sense the voice's smug grin, and wanted nothing more than to find its invisible little throat and squeeze! But he didn't have time to murder anyone… yet.
'Just do what I tell you to, and you'll be fine.' The voice responded.
Quatre sighed in defeat and nodded. "All right…" He paused a moment to shake his head, wondering what the hell he was doing arguing with a little voice in his head, but at this point, he was desperate.
It only took about a half hour for the strange little voice to successfully direct Quatre into taking out all the proper ingredients and equipment to make a delicious meal. Only one thing was missing: The will, and ability to cook.
Quatre just stared blankly at the supplies that were spread around the kitchen. "So… do I need anything else?"
'Only one more thing, but you don't have one in your home. We have to go out and buy one.'
"What is it?"
'An apron! And I know just where to get one, too!"
Ten minutes later, did he find himself right outside of a small shop downtown. The voice had given him directions to this place, and he wondered why he had never noticed it before.
"Risqué Raquel." He read the name of the shop aloud. "I don't think I like the sound of this…"
'Just shut up and go inside. Raquel will have exactly what you need.'
Quatre groaned. "All right, all right…" He reluctantly stepped into the shop, hearing the small bells ring above his head and he looked around. The place looked innocent enough.
"Good afternoon!" a cheery voice greeted him as the door swung shut behind him.
Quatre looked up and smiled at the red headed woman behind the counter. "Good afternoon. I'm here to buy an apron."
The woman just laughed. "Well, I certainly hope so! That's all I sell here! They're my own special designs! My name is Raquel," she motioned to herself and smiled, "And I'll help you pick out an apron."
Quatre just nodded and watched patiently as Raquel moved out from behind the counter and walked along the walls of the shop, surveying the packages that lined the shelves.
"Aha!" she exclaimed, picking up a plastic package with a beige colored cloth, presumable an apron, inside of it. She handed it to the young man and winked at him. "I think that this one will suit you well."
Quatre smiled back and took the package gratefully, paying for his item and dashing back home like a madman.
Twelve thirty finally came, and Quatre stood proudly in his dining room, surveying the… fest before him. Sure, the food was a bit… dark… okay, so it was black and crispy, but it's not like a little heat (or too much heat) can change food into something that isn't edible… right?
He was snapped out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang. "Finally!" he ran to the front door and swung it wide open to reveal a group of people, smiling and scowling alike.
Hiiro, Relena, Duo, Hilde, Trowa, Catherine, Wufei and Sally. Dorothy's name was conveniently forgotten.
"Come in!" Quatre smiled politely and ushered the group inside, not even taking notice of their shocked expressions.
"Welcome! Dinner is ready, so if you'll just take a seat…" Everyone's eyes fell upon the food and Quatre sweatdropped. "Okay okay… so it may be a little… well done, but it's still edible!"
Relena just shook her head. "No, Quatre… it's… not."
Quatre hung his head in utter defeat. "That's it!" he cried, "I give up! I tried! I really did!"
'Baka!' the voice in his head shouted, 'You didn't follow my instructions right!'
"What?!" Quatre shouted, oblivious to the blank stares that those who didn't hear the voice sent in his direction, "I followed your directions perfectly!"
'Did not!'
"Did too!"
'Did not!'
"TOO!"
'Not!'
This went on for a couple of minutes before Sally, Hilde and Relena decided to scurry into the kitchen and look for some cold cuts, unexpectedly overwhelmed by the smell of smoke and burnt plastic when Hilde lifted a suspicious looking pot off of the counter to reveal a black… well, what looked like the remains of a coffee pot.
Quatre just groaned and clutched his head with his hands. "What a mess! What a horrible mess!!!"
"Uhh… Q-man?" Duo did his best to stifle his laughter, "I know that this may be a bad time, but would you care to explain your apron?"
Quatre blinked. "What?" The apron! He hadn't even taken it off yet. He looked down for a moment and noticed some writing on the front that he hadn't noticed before. He squinted to read the upside-down letters and paled when he realized what they said.
And then, he fainted.
~*~*~*~*~
Hehe… okie… here's the deal. You're all wondering what the apron said, ne? Hmm? HMM?? Come on! You know you want to know!
Well, I actually got the idea from Marika Webster. You'll find out what the apron says in a future chapter of her fic, Cherished are These Things. Maybe this is my evil way of making her post more soon? XD Make sure to read it… it's like… REALY good… she's my inspiration!
~*~*~*~*~
Quatre yawned and rubbed his eyes as he glanced up at the clock on the wall of his 15th floor office. It was 1:30 AM already.
With a sigh, he glanced back at the piles of papers stacked not-so-neatly on the side of his desk. Throwing a death glare to the hated documents, the young man shoved them into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut.
"Time to go home…" he muttered as he trudged out of his office and into the lobby, not even bothering to shut off any lights. No one would care at this hour anyway.
It only took him ten minutes to reach his jet black Jaguar parked in the garage. He muttered something incoherent as he fumbled with the contents in his pocket and pulled out his keys. Finally… he could go home.
When he finally did reach home, he was surprised to see that there were no lights on in his mansion. 'That's funny…' he said to himself, 'A couple of the servants are usually still up and about at this hour…' He merely shrugged and let himself inside, assuming that all of the servants had gone to bed.
Confident that there was no one around, he wasted no time in shrugging out of his clothes as he made his way to the master bedroom. A shoe in the front hall, another in the living room, jacket tossed over the sofa, tie over the railing, etc.
By the time he reached his bedroom, he plopped down happily onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. He curled up under the covers and sighed contently, relishing the fact that tomorrow was Saturday. No work! That was his last thought as he finally surrendered to unconsciousness.
The next morning, Quatre awoke to a bright light shining in his eyes. He lifted one eyelid and cursed mentally as he realized that in his sleepy daze, he had forgotten to draw the shades. No problem. He merely flipped himself over and closed his eyes once more, happily facing away from the horrid sunlight.
That was when he realized that something was wrong. He sniffed the air curiously and opened his eyes once more. Usually, each morning, he would be greeted with the intoxicating aroma of vanilla coffee, his favorite, as well as the sound of clanging dishes coming from the kitchen downstairs. But there was nothing.
He tried to forget about it and go back to sleep, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He groaned, cursing himself for even caring as he stood up out of bed and pulled his robe off of the rack in the corner.
He poked his head outside of his bedroom door to survey the situation in the landing when he caught sight of something on the floor.
He walked outside and bent down, picking up a pair of pants, the same pair of pants that he had dropped there the previous night. Surely one of the servants would have noticed it and put it away!
Being the meticulously neat person that he is, Quatre gently folded the cloth in his arms and was about to walk back into his room when he noticed his white dress shirt lying crumpled on the stairs.
"What in the…" he shook his head and walked over to pick it up, his eyes traveling down the stairs to see the trail of clothing that he had left there last night. Why hadn't anyone picked them up? Not that he was complaining, it wasn't that big of a deal, but still, he was curious.
He spent the next minute gathering the scattered articles and piled them neatly on the sofa before peering into the kitchen, expecting to see at least a couple of servants there, but there was no one to be found. What was going on?
After about an hour of searching the massive house, finding rooms and closets that he'd never known existed, and also finding the particularly small closet that contained all of Duo's dirty magazines – that the braided man had denied to ever possessing in the first place – well, he'd deal with him later. Quatre plopped down on his sofa and sighed.
There was no one around, and he was getting nervy, damnit! Okay… he took this sudden surge of anger as a sign that he needed coffee – NOW!
Patting out to the kitchen, he examined the coffee pot with a certain child like curiosity. "Hmm… I wonder what this button does?"
About an hour later, Quatre carelessly threw his towel over the rack in the bathroom and pulled on some jeans and a polo shirt. With all the cheeriness he could muster, he walked with light steps out to his car and drove directly to the coffee roaster's.
The young heir sighed as he stared down at his fresh cup of coffee and downed it in one gulp. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and waited for the caffeine to take effect and pondered the potential predicament that he was facing.
He glanced down at his watch and sighed. It was already 9:30, and he was expecting company for lunch at 12:30. The problem was that he had no one to prepare it!
He shook his head and slumped down further into the comfy chair in the small coffee shop, making a mental note to thank the genius who decided to place soft furniture in the front of the store.
It only took him a few minutes to allow himself to accept the inevitable fate that he must face. He would have to manage a meal for his guests!
'He who works hard today will have food tomorrow.' A pesky little voice invaded his thoughts, and he shook his head. Absolutely not! His friends were coming over today! Not tomorrow.
Having come to a decision, Quatre stood up and headed back home, and confidently picked up his phone. "Hello, Mushu Chinese Restaurant? Yes, I'd like to place an advance order…" His plan was perfect! Order the food now, and take a nap until twelve! He would be ready by the time everyone arrived, and the food would be ready promptly at 12:40.
Only a moment passed until Quatre's eyes fell. Impossible!
About thirty minutes later, Quatre could be found in his dining room, facedown on the table, phone dangling from his hand and the phonebook – a mass of yellow shreds all over the room.
"I am so screwed!" Quatre's tortured voice shouted. He sat up and glared menacingly at the shreds of paper that littered the room. A holiday… a holiday! He just HAD to plan the event for one of those insignificant holidays that serve no purpose but giving bank tellers and apparently, restaurants a day off! Everyone was closed!
He let out a piteous wail as he realized that he had only two hours until everyone would arrive. He was about to give up when that annoying little voice scolded him once more.
'He who works hard today-"
"SHUT UP!" Quatre jumped up from his chair, clutching his head in his hands. "Enough already! I need food TODAY!! Not tomorrow!!!"
'Then why not make some?'
"I can't!"
'Why not?'
"I don't know how!"
'Then learn how!'
"What?! But…"
'But nothing! You need to feed your guests! Just get off your lazy, pampered butt and cook something already!'
"How?!"
He could sense the voice's smug grin, and wanted nothing more than to find its invisible little throat and squeeze! But he didn't have time to murder anyone… yet.
'Just do what I tell you to, and you'll be fine.' The voice responded.
Quatre sighed in defeat and nodded. "All right…" He paused a moment to shake his head, wondering what the hell he was doing arguing with a little voice in his head, but at this point, he was desperate.
It only took about a half hour for the strange little voice to successfully direct Quatre into taking out all the proper ingredients and equipment to make a delicious meal. Only one thing was missing: The will, and ability to cook.
Quatre just stared blankly at the supplies that were spread around the kitchen. "So… do I need anything else?"
'Only one more thing, but you don't have one in your home. We have to go out and buy one.'
"What is it?"
'An apron! And I know just where to get one, too!"
Ten minutes later, did he find himself right outside of a small shop downtown. The voice had given him directions to this place, and he wondered why he had never noticed it before.
"Risqué Raquel." He read the name of the shop aloud. "I don't think I like the sound of this…"
'Just shut up and go inside. Raquel will have exactly what you need.'
Quatre groaned. "All right, all right…" He reluctantly stepped into the shop, hearing the small bells ring above his head and he looked around. The place looked innocent enough.
"Good afternoon!" a cheery voice greeted him as the door swung shut behind him.
Quatre looked up and smiled at the red headed woman behind the counter. "Good afternoon. I'm here to buy an apron."
The woman just laughed. "Well, I certainly hope so! That's all I sell here! They're my own special designs! My name is Raquel," she motioned to herself and smiled, "And I'll help you pick out an apron."
Quatre just nodded and watched patiently as Raquel moved out from behind the counter and walked along the walls of the shop, surveying the packages that lined the shelves.
"Aha!" she exclaimed, picking up a plastic package with a beige colored cloth, presumable an apron, inside of it. She handed it to the young man and winked at him. "I think that this one will suit you well."
Quatre smiled back and took the package gratefully, paying for his item and dashing back home like a madman.
Twelve thirty finally came, and Quatre stood proudly in his dining room, surveying the… fest before him. Sure, the food was a bit… dark… okay, so it was black and crispy, but it's not like a little heat (or too much heat) can change food into something that isn't edible… right?
He was snapped out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang. "Finally!" he ran to the front door and swung it wide open to reveal a group of people, smiling and scowling alike.
Hiiro, Relena, Duo, Hilde, Trowa, Catherine, Wufei and Sally. Dorothy's name was conveniently forgotten.
"Come in!" Quatre smiled politely and ushered the group inside, not even taking notice of their shocked expressions.
"Welcome! Dinner is ready, so if you'll just take a seat…" Everyone's eyes fell upon the food and Quatre sweatdropped. "Okay okay… so it may be a little… well done, but it's still edible!"
Relena just shook her head. "No, Quatre… it's… not."
Quatre hung his head in utter defeat. "That's it!" he cried, "I give up! I tried! I really did!"
'Baka!' the voice in his head shouted, 'You didn't follow my instructions right!'
"What?!" Quatre shouted, oblivious to the blank stares that those who didn't hear the voice sent in his direction, "I followed your directions perfectly!"
'Did not!'
"Did too!"
'Did not!'
"TOO!"
'Not!'
This went on for a couple of minutes before Sally, Hilde and Relena decided to scurry into the kitchen and look for some cold cuts, unexpectedly overwhelmed by the smell of smoke and burnt plastic when Hilde lifted a suspicious looking pot off of the counter to reveal a black… well, what looked like the remains of a coffee pot.
Quatre just groaned and clutched his head with his hands. "What a mess! What a horrible mess!!!"
"Uhh… Q-man?" Duo did his best to stifle his laughter, "I know that this may be a bad time, but would you care to explain your apron?"
Quatre blinked. "What?" The apron! He hadn't even taken it off yet. He looked down for a moment and noticed some writing on the front that he hadn't noticed before. He squinted to read the upside-down letters and paled when he realized what they said.
And then, he fainted.
~*~*~*~*~
Hehe… okie… here's the deal. You're all wondering what the apron said, ne? Hmm? HMM?? Come on! You know you want to know!
Well, I actually got the idea from Marika Webster. You'll find out what the apron says in a future chapter of her fic, Cherished are These Things. Maybe this is my evil way of making her post more soon? XD Make sure to read it… it's like… REALY good… she's my inspiration!