Ok, so I might have accidentally gotten sucked into the Trollhunters fandom. This is the first of what will be at least three one-shots based on everyone's favorite changeling, Strickler (well, unless your favorite is NotEnrique. Can't blame you there if he is). This first one is just some slightly silly short stuff, serving as a daily reminder that iron still makes changelings reveal their true form. (Takes place sometime in the second half of season one. Probably a bit after Strickler makes the bond with Jim's mom. But it is still early-ish in their relationship. Ehhh, you'll see.)
"You should really stay for brunch,Walt. When I said you were coming over, Jim said he would make some 'super special' omelettes for you!" Barbara proposed cheerfully.
With a gentle smirk, as if he and Jim had some inside joke she didn't understand, her something-very-close-to-resembling-a-boyfriend walked over to Jim, watching over the boy's shoulder as he cooked with his usual flair. "Oh, really? And what is it that makes these omelettes so special?"
If the goal was to intimidate Jim (which was, in fact, at least 80% of the goal. 15% was wanting to please Barbara, and the other 5% was a genuine interest in eating omelettes. They did look good) the plan was a failure, as the young Trollhunter got the same look in his eyes, as he remarked seemingly off-handedly, "Oh, you know. Just trying out cooking them with a new cast iron pan I bought recently".
If the tension increased dramatically, and Walter stepped back from her son a little too quickly, Barbara didn't notice. She did notice the strange smile on her chef son as he added, "Yeah, I hear they can really change everything. When it comes to cooking, I mean".
Strickler subtly tensed even further at that, and took the barest of steps backwards from the now-threatening brunch that sat within feet of blowing his cover. And his hopes and dreams. And Barbara's trust and affection. "Yes. Of course. With cooking" he responded through gritted teeth while glaring his now openly grinning opponent after the silent tension had gone on for too long.
And that boy, he must have know that he had gotten the upperhand, because the open smile turned slightly mocking as he asked "Wanna help me make them? Hold the pan for me while I grab the plates?"
Gods help him, the boy was laughing at him. How quickly he had completely lost control of the situation. And all because of a frying pan. Curse that stupid iron weakness.
And of course, Barbara was thrilled at the idea of Jim and Walt bonding over cooking, and was looking at him to respond to Jim's seemingly innocent request. When he didn't move, she looked confused.
Flipping the omelette over once, Jim walked towards his principal-turned-enemy with the pan in hand. Bringing the iron that threatened to ruin everything, far too close. "Hey, what's wrong , you don't look too good. Maybe some breakfast would help?" The pan moved a half-inch closer, and he swore he could feel a bead of sweat drip down his back.
"Sorry, Barbara" he finally said, in a voice that he could tell was slightly too loud for the innocuous situation, "I just remembered, I uh, had plans for breakfast elsewhere. Staff meeting, for the school, and all that. You know". He steadily inched towards the door.
"Oh" replied Barbara, in a disappointed tone. He was surprised to find just how guilty that made him feel. "Well, I guess, if you have to go…."
"Yes. I am sorry, Barbara. I promise I can make it up to you later" now a safe distance away from Jim and his horrendous schemes, he managed to put on a (hopefully) convincing fake smile, "A shame, young Atlas, that I could not try your omelettes this time".
"Yeah, a shame. I'm sure they would have been killer. But, hey. No big deal. I'm sure you can help me next time you come over. Right, mom?"
She laughed, though still disappointed and a little confused. "Well, I'm sure he'd be better with a frying pan than I am".
With a forced chuckle, Strickler said farewell and then all but ran out the front door. When he was finally outside the Lake house, he muttered to himself angrily about omelettes and frying pans as he made his way to the car. Buckling himself in his car, he sighed as his stomach grumbled in its emptiness. He had been looking forward to those omelettes, too.
Meanwhile in the kitchen he had hastily retreated from, Barbara glanced between her son, who was now setting the table for the two of them, and the door where her almost-boyfriend had ran out in a near-panic. "What on earth do you think that was about?"
Jim just shrugged, seemingly unconcerned with the whole strange ordeal. "Dunno, mom. But, hey, more for us, right?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right…" taking a bite of her brunch, she sighed and forgot about the previous events for a short moment as she tasted the wonderful creation her talented son had cooked up. "Mmmm, a shame though. These taste even better than usual"
"Yeah." he said, grinning as he looked over his shoulder at the pan sitting on the stove, "I think I really like this new frying pan".
Writing Jim and Strickler's passive-aggressive fights of puns and innuendos is too much fun. Until next chapter, R&R.