In which Lúcio makes brigadeiro. They do not last long. Zarya is a giant tease.
It was by complete accident that Lúcio realized that the Gibraltar base was harboring the craftiest, most unsuspected chocolate fiend to have walked the earth.
Well, maybe less "crafty," and more "Lúcio was apparently gullible." He believed the McCreeism for it was "putting the fox in charge of the henhouse." Yikes.
Lúcio had endeavored to make brigadeiro; not just make it, but to make enough to fill the kitchen with it. No one in this base knew what he was talking about when he mentioned it, and that was just heinous. The problem was that it was difficult to keep the kitchen stocked with good food for longer than an hour; all it took was one nosy looky-loo and a text, and then the kitchen was full. If he wanted these to stay intact at all until he was done, he would need a very clever hiding spot. Or a guard. Or both.
While clever hiding spots were at a premium in the kitchen (mainly because they were already taken by other people, and it was a terrible idea to share spots in case your cohabiter spilled the beans), he did have a guard, of sorts. Aleksandra was alone at the kitchen table, fiddling idly with her tablet and slowly making her way through a cup of tea. She was down to eat pretty much anything, but if there was one thing she viciously restricted her intake of, it was sugar. Bacon? Sure. Potatoes? Sure. That bacon potato soup that Reinhardt made that looked like vomit but tasted like it was made by plump angels in a kitchen carved entirely of butter and heavy cream? You better leave her enough for thirds, or else. Cake buffet? Eh, maybe just a single, small piece. So if there was one person in this base that he trusted to leave a couple trays of chocolaty, sugary goodness unmolested, it was her (like right now, where she was perfectly happy demolishing both a bag of baby carrots and the last of the grapes from the fridge, and had only displayed mild curiosity as he had begun this project in the kitchen).
See also, the scariest guard he could have possibly acquired. He could list on his hands the amount of people willing to weasel something from her and he'd still have enough fingers left to play the guitar.
He stacked a couple trays on the table, well inside her reach; folks would be less willing to test their sticky fingers while their target was well within her striking distance. She stared at the trays, and looked up at him pointedly, eyebrow cocked, chin resting on her hand.
"So, I don't trust anyone else on this base to guard these for anything, because they would just run giggling back to their room with them. Can you, like, make sure these stay intact until I'm done? Otherwise peeps are gonna poach as I'm makin' 'em and then half the base won't get anything."
All he received was a noncommittal grunt and dismissive wave in the affirmative, and she returned her attention to her tablet. At least, so it appeared; Lúcio had learned from experience that her peripheral vision was spot on, and her reflexes honed to match. She'd casually swat at the first couple grabby hands; she'd catch all the ones that came after. Combined with her apparent disinterest in the well-sprinkled or cacao-dusted brigadeiro (and that handful that were rolled in toffee bits, those wouldn't last), he had the perfect sentinel.
He returned to the counter, settling his headphones back around his ears; give him some music, and he didn't mind spending all day in the kitchen. It was… domestic, and surprisingly calming, which were two commodities that he was able to experience quite little of nowadays. He liked it. He shot another glance at Aleksandra's broad back, and turned his music way up. It was still hours before dinner, but Lúcio wanted to have his project finished and cleaned up before whoever was on kitchen duty today came in and got to work.
It was a good twenty minutes into the next couple batches when Aleksandra rose from the table, leaving her tablet and cup behind. She rapped loudly on the counter to get his attention, and he spared a moment to pull his headphones away from his head.
"I'll be back in five. You'll have to watch your own… those things." And she gave a lazy wave towards the trays on the table. He nodded and grinned, and she strode from the kitchen. Well, she'd be back; unless he was rushed by the food thieves that inhabited this base, he could defend his food himself until she returned.
And return she did, not three minutes later. Lúcio was pretty sure if it weren't for the bright shock of pink hair, he never would have noticed her reenter, so engrossed was he in a combination of cooking and a head-banging jam that he might feel in his neck a bit later. Ah well. Totally worth it.
His attention was soon drawn by some deliberate arm-waving from the table. He wiped his hands clean, settled his headphones around his neck, and rounded the counter. Aleksandra had not moved, nor had she removed her eyes from the trays on the table.
"Are these ones supposed to be missing?"
He frowned, and peered into the trays. Sure enough, about eight of the brigadeiro were gone. Poof! Disappeared. He looked closer, as if the brightly-sprinkled candy was any easier to see from a few centimeters nearer. No luck, the errant things never materialized. When? How? He'd been here the whole time! He didn't think anyone else came in. Probably. He had been jammin' pretty hard, though. At least he knew who it wasn't, as she shrugged and sat heavily back in her chair, and returned to her carrot sticks and grapes.
Seriously, though, trays of chocolate available, and she chose vegetables. The woman was committed.
His first, reflexive thought was that there were ninjas in this base, and he killed the notion immediately. They had two ninjas, and one did not need to eat, nor was he in the habit of stealing food for other people. His brother had a stick so far up his own ass that they'd have to pull it out a good couple feet before he'd let himself enjoy something like chocolate. His second thought was Hana, but she wouldn't bother trying to be crafty; he'd just find her at the table, scooping brigadeiro into her mouth. She was also currently dispatched, and due back in later this evening. 76 was pretty stealthy, but he seemed to, erm, "enjoy" healthier fare like plain steamed broccoli and unseasoned chicken breast. He was also in a running battle with Hanzo over whose wooden ass-insert was larger and sharper.
And Lúcio suddenly realized that he would not be mad in the slightest if either of those two people had breezed through and helped themselves; if anyone here was in desperate need of chocolate-therapy, it was them. Damn. New self-appointed mission: make sure they eat three, each. Would do their poor, bitter old-man-souls some good.
He sighed. Well, it was alright. There were a good thirty-odd little chocolate balls per tray, he could easily replace eight. Gutsy thief, though, leaving only the little paper candy cups behind. Aleksandra was doing a pretty good job of both scrolling through her tablet and watching him, her expression somewhere between mildly curious and bored as fuck. Hopefully she was still down to sit on these for just a little while longer. He returned to the kitchen, and started rifling through the cabinets. He could have sworn he had seen the accompanying lids for these trays—ah, right there. The perfect foil, pun intended. Everyone who had tried to sneak goodies in the middle of the night as a kid knew it was almost impossible to remove the metal lids from the containers without making a stupid amount of noise. He brought them back to the table, slapped them on the tins, and pushed them towards Aleksandra. She snorted, cocked a brow at him, but pulled the containers the rest of the way towards herself. She put one tin on top of the other, propped her tablet on them both, and continued to crunch her way through what must have now amounted to a lethal amount of baby carrots.
Satisfied that his brigadeiro were safe again, he returned to the kitchen. Given the ingredients left, he wanted to see how many more batches he could manage to crank out.
Turns out, he could still make a hell of a lot. He was now another hour in, and starting to run out of space to put them all. In the name of both space and presentation, he scooped up a couple handfuls of freshly-rolled chocolate and made for the table. Aleksandra was still flopped "protectively" over the tins. It looked like she had stalled out on the carrots and grapes, too. She gave him a sideways look as he approached. She looked almost… impatient. Probably just bored. Odd; usually if she found herself this wanting for things to do, she would head back down to the gym.
"Can you do me a favor and take the lid off of this one, right here? Yeah, on the top. I'm gonna put back the ones our mystery thief stole. Make everything look pretty again."
"Hmph, for these people? Decorative plating is a lost art in this base. They will not find time to admire anything before Lena and Hana run off with all of it."
True, very true. Only Angela, Brigitte, Reinhardt, and Mei made any effort at all towards appearance when cooking (and Reinhardt's tended heavily more towards "how much of a heart attack can I induce in people before they even eat the food?" The day Lúcio found a whole stick of butter jutting up out of his stew or whatever, he'd know it had gone too far).
He shrugged a shoulder, careful not to jostle his hands too much. He hadn't dropped a single one of these things yet today, and he did not want to start now.
"Yeah, but it makes me feel better, so…"
She chuffed, but removed the lid anyways, and Lúcio put brigadeiro back into the empty little paper cups left behind. Satisfied that the hideous hole created by his mystery thief was again filled, he sauntered back to the kitchen.
"Can you put the lid back on, pretty please? Wanna keep the rest of 'em intact, if I can."
"Hn," was the only response that he got, but as she had so far been a relatively diligent guard, he had little doubt that the chocolate would be swiftly covered again.
Good, because he still had about another four dozen of these things to make…
As suspected, it didn't take long for his project to be discovered. Aleksandra had eventually left him to care for his brigadeiro on his own, and it seemed that no sooner had she left the kitchen that people began to trickle in. Some came in from missions, other from a variety of other trips, and a few were just bored, but the kitchen was generally the first place people gravitated towards when they were struck with any manner of free time; it was the rare day when the kitchen was empty. Food was often secondary to the company.
As such, Lúcio was not surprised in the least when he found himself both inundated with people, and being relieved of his brigadeiro. He was just getting into cleaning his various dishes when he heard the telltale pop of the only chronal accelerator found in the base, somewhere at his back. It was almost immediately drowned out as Reinhardt thundered in through the door, fresh out of the field and not looking an ounce less lively than when he left. Hana was not far behind him, looking noticeably less energetic. Lena was already in the kitchen, and picking curiously around the tins on the table.
"You've sure been busy while we were out, love." If she was trying to be at all sneaky about pulling at the corner of a lid to take a peek inside, she was doing a terrible job. "Please tell me that whatever you made that caused the kitchen to smell like the inside of a candy store happens to be in these things."
Lúcio wiped his hands clean, and came over to lean against a counter.
"Well, none of you have had brigadeiro ever, which is just shameful, so I made some while you were out. There should enough for the entire base, but that means keeping your greasy paws out of there, Lena."
She shot him a cheeky smile as she flipped the lid right off the first container.
"Hey! My paws are not greasy." And she reached for the contents even as Lúcio flew towards the table. New record, whoo! And even without his skates! But really, he had to get her away from those. Ugh, fresh off of the drop ship, who knew where those hands had been in the last twenty-four hours?
"Ew, ew, get your nasty gloves out of there right now. Lena!"
She laughed, snatching up the entire tray and bolting. Of course, lunging did nothing; she just blinked right past him. She pressed the tray into Reinhardt's hands as she ducked around him.
"Quick, take these, big guy!"
Oh, like this needed to be any harder. Lúcio let his arms drop to his sides as Reinhardt took a good look at what Lena had just handed him. A massive grin bloomed across his face, and Lúcio could feel his odds of rescuing his cooking from Reinhardt's huge hands slipping swiftly past him. Or above him, as it were.
"Lonely for food from home? You must have been, to have put forth such monumental effort!" And Reinhardt removed a few brigadeiro from the tray. He was surprisingly ginger about it, given the size of his fingers. "I promise, we heartily appreciate your effort!"
"Reinhardt, buddy, you are killin' me here."
Lúcio heard Hana's sharp 'tsk.' She was at the second tray on the counter, and was already filling a hand with chocolate.
"Don't be such a fun-sucker, Lú. You made these to be eaten, so we're eating them."
"You're not supposed to make a meal out of them! The point is that everyone in the base gets to try some." Because, seriously, she did not really need to eat twelve at once. Her grip on her chocolately loot said otherwise.
"Mmmmm, their loss." And she popped a couple into her mouth. "Wow, these are good."
"Are they? Now I really need some." And Tracer blinked back across the room to accost the last tray of brigadeiro. Lúcio just plain stopped trying. It was clear that he had lost. Dammit, where was his ferocious guard when he needed her most?
Lena lifted the lid off the tray and stared. Yeah, his brigadeiro were that good, you could just look at them. Then she started laughing. It was the funny looking almost-smushed baby one, wasn't it? He knew he should have just eaten that one…
"Ha. Well played, Lúcio, well played. But next time, I would put the decoy batch on top."
Wait. What? He frowned.
"Decoy batch?"
"Yes, 'm not blind. Did you think I would stick those in my mouth?"
"Lena, I didn't make a decoy batch."
She cocked a brow at him.
"Oh really? Then what do you call these?"
He'd call those brigadeiro, that's what. To humor her, though, he walked over and took the tray.
And stared.
Correction, these were not brigadeiro. Every one of his carefully crafted little chocolate balls were gone. In their places, settled into the little paper cups, were a combination of baby carrots and grapes. More accurately, multiple halves of baby carrots, like they had been bitten in two, and those shriveled, split, or slightly moldy grapes that were always found at the bottom of the bag that no one ever wanted to deal with.
All this time, wondering who his chocolate thief was, and he had just been handing them right to her. And she hadn't left the room with anything in her hands, which meant that she had eaten all thirty of them without his noticing, replaced them with baby carrots and reject raisins, and breezed right out the door on her way to the gym. Probably to work all the sugar off.
Lúcio sighed. Well, he could take that as a glowing compliment, at least. Chocolate so good, it broke diets. And drove people to thievery.
He was not looking forward to her cheeky grin when she strolled back in for dinner.
He really didn't have to wait for dinner. Eventually, Reinhardt left the kitchen for his quarters, with Hana and Lena not long after. The three of them had only demolished most of his brigadeiro (not counting the three dozen that had been pilfered earlier and replaced with vegetables). Lúcio "hid" what remained; really, he just placed them on a relatively clear shelf in the fridge, but hey. Out of sight, out of mind. Kinda. If he was careful, he may be able to ration the rest, and at least the rest of the base could taste some. He did, however, set aside a small box of them that was solely for Angela. Before this afternoon, he would have pegged her as the base's resident chocolate fiend. Turns out she had some fierce competition for the title.
As he finished scrubbing the last of the dishware used in his project, he heard someone's heavy steps stomp through the kitchen door.
Not quite loud enough to be Reinhardt.
Didn't breath enough like Darth Vader to be Roadhog.
Bipedal, so not Winston.
Sure enough, a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Aleksandra's proud return to the scene of her heist. And she was proud; the instant his eyes met hers her grin twisted into something terribly sharp. He attempted to look as indignant as was possible, and it affected her none at all. If anything, she got more pleasure out of it.
"You have some nerve, skipping back in here like nothing happened."
Her grin only widened.
"I was curious when you would find out."
Hmph, more like she couldn't wait; probably why she was back, just to prod.
"Apparently Lena was less than enthused about eating chewed baby carrots and squished grapes." He turned his attention back to the dishes in the sink. "Gross, by the way."
"So Lena was here. Hana too?" Lúcio could hear her footsteps as she rounded the counter, stopping somewhere behind him. It was the kind of heavy, looming presence that didn't need to be seen or heard, just felt.
He grunted in the affirmative.
"And Reinhardt. Between the three of them, I'm surprised they left me with anything."
"So there are more left." And her voice pitched in such a way as to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, something both warm and cold to squirm around in his stomach, and to let him know that she was about to become an incredibly stubborn nuisance. He kept his gaze pinned firmly on the sink.
"Not for you! You had your…your almost forty already." And he heard her move again, felt her move again, a similar sensation to feeling the air rush through a train tunnel. The skin on his arms prickled and he did his best to ignore it. "And really? I thought sugar was generally a no-go for you. Empty calories, and all that."
Lúcio heard her rumbling chuff from right behind him as she brought both her hands to rest on the counter to either side of his waist. He squashed the tiny part of his mind that went 'oh wow' with the realization that he could practically feel her solidness through the counter. Really, it was nothing new; it just never got any less impressive.
"I will spare you the conversation of how carbohydrates are also sugar, and how one's body needs them for energy, and only because I am going to attempt to weasel more chocolate out of you." She relaxed, leaning her weight into his back, and resting her chin on top of his head. Goddamn if this woman wasn't always ridiculously warm. "Also, you are largely right. It is best avoided. I am, however, allowed to cheat. All diet and no enjoyment makes Aleksandra grumpy and miserable."
"Can't have that, now can we?" His deadpan was both real and false at the same time. He'd never be able to manage that again.
She leaned a little harder into him.
"Hmph. If I have my choice, I'll save my cheat days for a nice piece of chocolate and a good bottle of vodka."
"Or, y'know, forty nice pieces of chocolate…ow! Hey!" She had moved one hand to his waist, poking two fingers hard into his side. Flinching away did nothing, merely causing him to press his ribs up against her other forearm, pinning him between it and the fingers in his flank. And he had about as much of a chance at moving that arm as he did of caber tossing a telephone pole.
"You are in a terrible position to argue." The fingers in his side didn't leave, but she wrapped her other arm around his waist and leaned into him, hard, effectively pinning him between her mass and the steel countertop. He didn't bother squirming; it would only encourage her. He elected for a Slightly Annoyed But Not Really sigh instead.
"I am in the best position to argue, because you ate almost a third of all my hard work by yourself, and because you need me intact if you ever want me to make it again."
"Mm, I suppose." And she eased her weight back off of him. Her grip on him slackened considerably, enough for him to pretend to scrub this bowl really hard. She had her arms around his middle still, but loosely, wrists resting on the counter's edge and her chin now on his shoulder. "That was the hardest thing I've ever done."
"Well, you didn't need to eat the whole tray…"
If she was gonna be cheeky about this, so was he, and Lúcio got the pleasure of hearing her 'tsk' in his ear as she gave him a playfully admonishing swat to the hip.
"Not that. Please, I could have eaten the other tray you gave me as well. But after I ate the first few, I almost could not put those carrots back in my mouth."
"What."
He felt her shrug against his back.
"The switch from brigadeiro to carrots was so abrupt and awful, I thought I was going to cry. But I had to maintain the façade."
Never mind the absurd and frankly highly amusing mental image that brought ("world class weightlifter cries over self-inflicted torture by baby carrots," oh please), Lúcio turned his head slightly to give her a look.
"Seriously? Don't give me that. You ripped a cannon off of it's mountings and are now carrying it around like it's a rifle. I've seen photos of your competition from the world tournament, and that woman from South Africa is terrifying. Your whole weight class? Terrifying. You have a scar on your temple that plainly tells how you avoided losing an eye, brain damage and/or death due to flying shrapnel. Don't tell me 'putting carrots back in my mouth after chocolate was hard'."
She rolled her eyes hard at him, and yes, he did understand and recognize deliberate hyperbole when he heard it, but hell if he wasn't going to give her a hard time. He made sure this was clear by meeting her stare with a sassy grin of his own. Aleksandra gave him a half-hearted 'hmph,' and settled her arms back around his middle.
"It was. Carrots are healthy. Chocolate makes me happy. These two things are not equal in enjoyment." Her grip on his waist tightened. "With that in mind, where did you put the rest of them, hm?"
"But you finished all the carrots, other than the ones you baited my tray of brigadeiro with."
"So brazen." And her squeezing was making it awfully difficult to wash dishes. "You know what I want."
"I also know that I am not going to give it to you." Nope, not at all. She could do her worst. Really, all she had to do was open the fridge and they'd be right there, but if he could keep her attention anywhere else, he'd call it a win.
"Are you sure? I have not even made my offer yet." One of her arms loosened its grip, but only so she could edge her fingers up under the hem of his shirt. Well crap. He was markedly less resistant to this manner of negotiation, especially as she gently dragged her warm fingertips along his stomach. She had her cheek against his ear, and she gave an idle hum as she teased at his skin. He could also feel her grinning hard against him, which meant that he had a sudden desire to be as recalcitrant about this as possible, actual inspirations be damned.
"No dice. I'm not done here yet."
She gave an amused snort, and gestured lazily to the sink.
"You have been scrubbing that one bowl continuously for the last five minutes. I believe that it is clean."
Damn. Thinly-veiled and spur of the moment fake chore discovered.
"Just wanna leave the place ready for the next person in the kitchen. Someone's gotta make dinner."
"McCree," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"Hm?"
"McCree is on kitchen shift this evening."
Lúcio smirked.
"You do not sound enthused."
She gave a long sigh that was about as telling as anything else.
"It is not bad, his cooking, but…" and she grimaced, "he is highly enthusiastic about spices."
Oh yes he was. Lúcio found it amazing. Aleksandra was noticeably less impressed, apparently, but the hell if that ever stopped her from eating it. Her stubbornness extended to many things; she wasn't afraid of omnics, she wasn't afraid of humans, animals, or forces of nature, and she sure as fuck wasn't afraid of a bowl of chili, even if that chili would always manage to win the match in overtime.
"Aw, but his chili is really good." He grinned as Aleksandra groaned into his neck.
"I have never tasted lava before that day."
He laughed, which did not at all cover the sound of someone's loud heels and jingling spurs coming down the main hallway. He was whistling, too. Lúcio smirked, and finished rinsing his bowl.
"And speak of the devil. I love how the whole base can always hear him coming."
"I will never know how that man's specialty was covert ops," she grunted, straightened, and gave Lúcio a hearty clap to the shoulder as she pushed away from him. Ah well, that was fun, while it lasted. "I'm going down to the range until dinner, unless you are willing to continue hearing my proposal."
"Oh?" And his interest peaked right back up again. He dried his hands and turned to face her.
She crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned a shoulder against the fridge. She had no clue, and it was great.
"I am not rude enough to decline food, especially when it is hardly the worst in this base. It will, however, be far easier to tolerate that pepper-induced hell knowing that there is a chocolate reward at the end of my suffering."
"Well, since you are gonna have to suffer through Jesse's dinner with your soft taste buds," and he nimbly sidestepped her swipe at him, grinning, "I guess that's fair."
"Of course it is. Now move."
No need to tell him twice. He made for the hallway, Aleksandra right on his heels, pausing only as McCree stepped into the kitchen. He shot him a cheery wave in greeting, and the cowboy tipped his hat at them both in passing. Clearly, even that took just slightly too long, and Lúcio could feel one of Aleksandra's warm hands press insistently into the small of his back. Alrighty then, now he knew how this was going to go. He grinned and lengthened his stride.
They had just barely cleared the kitchen when Lúcio heard McCree's loud, surprised grunt.
"The hell did all this chocolate in 'ere come from?"
The fridge. He had opened the damned fridge.
Oh, dear god, no. McCree, of all the times to just keep your mouth shut—
He was determined to keep going, and pretend like he hadn't noticed a thing, but he could no longer hear Aleksandra's heavy footsteps behind him. He turned and got to witness his whole plan shattering under the chill of that elated, borderline predatory grin skipping across her face. She turned hard on her heel and sprinted back towards the kitchen, "negotiation" now immediately forgotten, and it was damned impressive how quickly she could move while unencumbered and with the proper motivation. Lúcio was left alone in the hall, face buried firmly in his palm.
Well, shit.
McCree fuckin' owed for this
