Hello, this is Lady Nephenee Ranulf. As you can see, "Vinegar Pandas" has no relation whatsoever to "Lady Nephenee Ranulf". However, I am pleased to note that this is in fact the beginnings of hopefully a fruitful collaboration with fellow ToS writer Lilikoifish. Do not ask where "Vinegar Pandas" arose from. She chose the name.

Anyway, welcome to Life in Meals. I myself have not written any Kratos/Anna for a long time (two years now?), and thus look forward to additionally trying to dust the cobwebs off. Om nom nom and do enjoy!

All standard disclaimers apply.

Capellini Al Pomodoro

or

In Which Kratos Kindly Reminds His Dearly Beloved that Tomatoes are the Bane of His Existence

"You do understand that I cannot eat this?" Kratos poked an accusing finger at the offending tomato poking its vibrant colored head cheerily from the midst of his plate of pasta.

Anna hid a laugh behind her hand and adopted a lecturing tone eerily similar to Kratos' own. "Stop acting like a petulant child, sir. It's unbecoming for a man your age."

"Do not attempt to reason with me on this one, Anna. You know perfectly well that I cannot abide by tomatoes, and I know that you know because I specifically told you." He had presented his reasons (in a logical list-like format, even) only a month ago, when a similar situation had presented itself. "Do you need me to repeat my list again? I will be more than willing."

"I don't think we need a repeat of that monstrosity," his wife said.

"Then you understand my refusal."

"They're all just a bunch of petty excuses, you know, and you can't even taste the tomato properly. So what's the fuss all about?" Anna put her hands on her hips, and gave him her best don't-mess-with-me-fool look. It was significantly less chilling than his, but it would hopefully do. He tended to melt when she gave him the proper sort of eyes, after all.

"The texture is enough to put me off," her stubborn husband insisted. "When you lose your sense of taste, everything depends on texture. And look at this" –he impaled the tomato on his fork and held it up for her inspection- "what's more, it appears, and I know my eyes are not deceiving me, to be green." He shook his fork to accentuate his point, sending tomato bits flying. "Green, woman. It's bad enough when they're red, but green?"

Anna harrumphed, crossing her arms in yet another emulation of her husband. "It's an heirloom variety, dear. It's meant to be that color." She noticed him opening his mouth to retort and cut him off with a swift gesture. "Ah, ah, ah, I'm not finished yet."

He grumbled audibly. She continued: "I bought it because I thought that maybe you wouldn't mind it if it didn't quite look like a tomato- or at least a conventional tomato."

"…were you trying to fool me again?" Kratos sensed something fishy.

"Uh, no?"

"Do not think for a second that I have not forgotten about the smoothie incident, Anna." Damn. He was still holding that against her.

"Kratos, can you think of any other fruits- er, vegetables- that are green like that?"

"There probably is one." Unfortunately, he could not think of any off the top of his head.

"Well I wasn't trying to pass it off as a tomatillo, for your information. Those don't work very well in capellini—at least, not in this recipe." Not to mention that the color scheme was thrown completely off by the intruding bright green. Basil had a much more appropriate shade. "Would you rather I put yellow ones in? I bought those too."

"Haven't I already proven that the color doesn't matter, so long as it is still a tomato?"

"I'm just covering my bases," Anna replied.

Kratos set the fork and tomato down on his plate. "Anna, is it really so hard to just buy something else? We've had this argument too many times for me to count now, and personally I am tired of having to repeat myself, since you insist on rejecting my established reasons for disliking tomatoes."

She looked at him pleadingly. "But they're my favorite…" Her arsenal of weapons to use against him was almost sapped: so far, she'd tried logic, intimidation, pleading...maybe she would have to use feminine wiles to get him to finally eat one of the damned things?

The seraph stared at her disbelievingly. "I enjoy a good steak, but that doesn't mean I force people to try to consume one whenever I decide to have steak."

"You know, that's one thing I don't get. What the hell does a steak feel like?" It had taken a little while to get used to her husband commenting on dinner with such things as "a little tender for my tastes" (broiled fish) or "Too firm; maybe you should have added some more cream?" (mashed potatoes). They were all decent things to say, but when that was all he ever had to say, well…it got a bit unnerving, especially with soup. There wasn't much by way of texture when it came to soup. It was just…soupy.

"Like steak," Kratos said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You've made one before; I'm sure I don't need to elaborate."

"You're absolutely infuriating sometimes, do you know that?" Honestly, the things she dealt with…

Her husband smirked noticeably. "You're very welcome."

Sometimes Anna wasn't quite sure what was worse: Kratos Aurion, depressing and silent angel; or Kratos Aurion, deliverer of irritatingly smart remarks. In any case, it was time to change the subject before she made a complete fool out of herself.

"Kratos," Anna cajoled, "look, just one little bite? Who knows? Your non-existent taste buds might have changed in the past millennium."

He didn't like her teasing very much, judging from the speed at which his smirk had magically vanished. Score one point for Anna Aurion, she thought.

"I highly doubt that."

Anna looked desperately at their plates. "The pasta's getting stone cold…"

"Well perhaps then you should give up and allow me to eat as I am inclined to, if you want to partake while it's still warm."

"And they're so very good for you…"

"Anna, I have yet to contract any illnesses for the past four thousand years."

"Especially for men…" She gave him a forlorn look.

"That's enough." He responded with an irritated glare. There were some things that were better off not being mentioned over the dinner table or any table at all.

Anna sighed and shook her head in exasperation. Honestly, the man could endure a thousand wounds for her, but when it came to something as simple as one tomato, he was hopeless.

"Kratos Aurion, you are going to be the death of me one day."

Well, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the ironic bite of that last line as much as I did. Also, tomatillos may or may not have existed in the twin worlds, but whatever. Additionally: as you can see, I am assuming that Kratos cannot taste foods. The keyword is "assuming".

Lastly, apologies for any perceived OOC. My Kratos-voice isn't quite used to interacting with women who actually like him.