A/N: Well, I'm finally back with a oneshot. And the special thing about this one is that it's my submission for the third prompt of The Prompts. I'm excited because it's really fun doing this, yet nervous at the same time because there are tons of other authors out there, entering in these wonderful submissions. Fingers crossed for at least honorable mentions! Haha.

I probably wouldn't have posted this or even entered in the first place if it weren't for my lovely friend, Cassie's Neighbor. She is an amazing writer. If you haven't already heard of her (doubt it) then I suggest you go check her stories out! Like, now! (Well, after reading this oneshot first.)

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Rick Riordan. I am not Rick Riordan.

"Nico, where the hell are my breasts?"

Arching an eyebrow, Nico slowly turned around on the couch to look at Rachel. He smirked as she crossed her arms, making her way from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Those kitchen fumes must be getting to you, Rach, because your breasts are right where they've been for a long time now," he eyed her chest then trailed back up to her face, as if to emphasize his point.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Not those breasts. The chicken breasts."

"Oh, the chicken breasts," he repeated thoughtfully. "Yeah, I hid them."

"You what?" Rachel exclaimed. "Why would you do that?"

"Why did you decide to cook?"

She exhaled, frustrated. "I've told you; I invited this guy and his wife over for dinner because he could be a potentially big client."

"So you want to cook for them. Are you trying impress the guy or kill him?" Nico remarked.

She glared at him before turning back to the kitchen. Nico sighed and turned off the TV before leaping over the couch. He strolled into the kitchen, where Rachel was busy stirring something in a pot on the stove. He snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her ear. "I was being inconsiderate. How can I make it up to you?"

He smirked when he felt her shudder against his chest.

"Well," she began without turning around, "you can try this stew for me."

Before he could give his consent, Rachel had stuffed a spoonful of stew into his mouth. For a couple seconds, Nico remained unfazed. However, his impassive expression morphed into one of disgust. He popped the spoon out of his mouth and jumped to the sink to spit out the stew. While he rinsed his mouth, Rachel spoke up.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'm guessing you didn't like it," she stated.

Nico wiped his mouth with a paper towel. Then, much to Rachel's surprise, he began to wipe his tongue with it. It would have been comical had she not known the reason for his actions.

She scowled. "Stop french-kissing that towel and tell me how it tastes."

"Honestly," he began, "it tasted like shit."

"No, don't be so nice, Nico," Rachel said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Tell me what you really think."

Nico threw the towel away and pulled her arms away from her chest. "Listen, that guy will run home the moment he tastes this. Just leave it to the side and I'll fix it later."

She reluctantly nodded.

"Good. Go work on something else for now, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled.

Nico grinned as he leaned towards her, closing his eyes. They shot open when he felt Rachel's finger against his lips.

"Nope. No kissing until you tell me where you hid those breasts," she threatened.

"I'm not telling you anything," he murmured against her finger, still resting on his lips.

She shrugged. "Have it your way."

Rachel turned around and worked to cut some vegetables. Nico leaned against the counter, watching her. His eyes slid from her face, to her busy hands, and down to her slipper-clad feet. An image of pure beauty, he thought. He lifted a corner of his mouth in a half-smile. And she was all his.

"Look," Rachel sighed and paused her chopping, "if you're just gonna stand there and stare at me, you might as well make yourself useful."

Nico grinned, unabashed at being caught staring. "Can I take over the cooking?"

"No."

He huffed. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

She whirled around, knife in hand, causing Nico to instinctively take a step back. He stared nervously at the utensil as she used it as a pointer while she spoke.

"Take a pan out and heat it on the stove," Rachel instructed.

"Okay," Nico complied. "Just do me a favor; put that knife down before any accidents happen."

She smirked and returned to the vegetables while he heated up the pan. He stepped back for Rachel to throw the vegetables into the pan. And for the first time that day, he noticed how tense her shoulders were.

Frowning, he asked, "Hey, Rach, you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" She was refusing to look at him, a sure indication that she was lying.

Nico shrugged. "You just seem more stressed than usual."

After throwing in the last of the vegetables, she moved them around in the pan, still not making any eye contact with Nico. "Of course I'm not stressed. I mean, I'm just trying to impress a guy that could make or break my career. Why would I be stressed about that?"

Nico sighed and grabbed her shoulders, turning her around to face him. With one hand, he tilted her chin up so that she was looking directly at him. "Stop worrying about impressing this guy with your cooking or whatever. He's gonna take one look at a painting of yours and he'll want to invest in an entire gallery just for you. I know it."

She smiled. "You're just saying that because you want me to kiss you."

His eyes glinted. "Is it working?"

Instead of answering, she fisted his hair and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer. They stayed that way for a few moments longer until lack of oxygen forced them to pull apart.

Still breathing heavily, Nico suddenly smelled something burning. Rachel must have smelt it too because her eyes widened and she whirled around to a smoking pan of vegetables.

"Shit!" she hissed.

She hastily turned the stove off and grabbed the pan, bringing it over to the trash can. After dumping its contents, she set it in the sink.

Rachel leaned against the counter and held her head in her hands. She groaned. "How did they burn so quickly?"

"Did you put enough oil?" Nico questioned.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "You're supposed to put oil?"

It was Nico's turn to groan.

"What am I gonna do?" she asked worriedly. "The guy will be here in half an hour and I've got nothing done."

Nico grinned cheekily at her. "You could hand over the apron to me."

She bit her lip, contemplating his request. Rachel then sighed and reluctantly untied her apron, giving it to Nico.

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "I'll whip up something quick and you can go doll up for your guest."

She laughed. "Who says 'doll up' anymore?"

"Shut up. Just go."

Nico set himself to work after Rachel left the kitchen. He whistled quietly to himself as he prepared a sauce. Then:

"NICO DI ANGELO!"

Rachel stomped into the kitchen, holding something in each hand. She angrily threw one of them at Nico. He managed to catch it before it landed on the floor. Then he grinned when he saw what she'd thrown at him; how could he have forgotten his main ingredient?

Rachel held up the other object and spoke through clenched teeth. "You hid the chicken breasts in my bra?"

Nico smirked. "Well, where else would you put breasts?"

A/N: God, I hope that didn't suck too much.

In my opinion, I did not like the middle of this story. At all. I think my beginning and end are a lot stronger and they get the point across better. What do you think? Please tell me your thoughts in a review! They're much appreciated.

Lastly, if any of you aspiring writers out there are interested, please check out The Prompts. They're a really great way for you to delve into your creative juices, see what you can come up with. I'm having a fun experience and I'm sure the creators of The Prompts would appreciate some new faces. :)

Until next time, please leave any comments, questions, cookies, or puppies. Thanks!