-1"What is that annoying crap?" Hellboy grumbled, his head hurting slightly as he entered the room. He had only finally left his room after a thorough cleaning and was now in dire need of a meal. The kitchen was the first room on his agenda and as soon as he entered he wished he hadn't.

A deep, wholesome sort of voice echoed in the steel and tile room from a small boom box set on one counter. It sounded a bit too romantic-like for his taste and it bugged him quickly. What he saw in the kitchen bothered him even more.

"I think I'm being mentally raped," he groaned in disbelief.

John stood with a large bowl in his arms, whipping with a fork some gooey, clear froth, an apron about his waist, covering his business pants and belt. He had lost his jacket and stood with the white sleeves rolled up, the top few buttons undone and his hair more than a little messy. Most of his exposed clothing and skin was covered in white powder.

Mary was no better off. At first, Hellboy didn't recognize her at all. When he had first seen her, about two weeks previous, she seemed like a generic female being. But the person standing there was nothing close to generic.

Her red-brown hair was held up in a bun with white-gold chopsticks, falling in messy twirling tendrils down around her ears and down her neck. Flour and sugar dusted her rounded cheeks, flushed from the warmth of the room and her fingers were white with the stuff. She wore a tight black t-shirt, proudly parading the logo for Jackass the movie with the skull and crutches. Tied about her waist was a cream and black plaid flannel shirt and her legs were donned with tight blue jeans, decorated with cursive words in black ink. Handcuffs dangled from her earrings, swinging as she swayed her hips.

Hellboy watched silently as she rolled a large lump of dough in her hands, stretching it and mashing it together again, working through any tough areas. As she danced about to the music, not yet noticing him, he found himself distracted by her form. It was short but full with plumper curves than Liz possessed. She had a moderately small waist, not cinched but flat and long. Her hips were broader and more welcoming as were her shoulders but they sloped gently in a come-hither fashion.

"Wow, you came out. On your own, amazingly," John's voice suddenly cut through his examination, startling him. It disturbed him that he had been so entranced in watching the woman dance about to the fluent music.

"Yeah. Was gonna hafta sooner or later. Can't eat candy wrappers forever," he grumbled lowly in reply before coming into the kitchen more fully. Mary turned to look at him, a softer smile on her lips than the one she had boldly flashed a few weeks earlier. He nodded at her slightly before glaring at the boom box.

"What the hell is that?"

"That? That is Frank Sinatra."

Hellboy merely rose an impressive eyebrow at her before shrugging.

"You don't know Sinatra? 'Old blue eyes'?" she asked in awed disappointment, her shoulders slumping a bit. Hellboy gave her a stare that clearly asked if she had a problem with him not knowing. Deciding to ignore him, Mary tossed the dough on the floured counter before rolling it with her hands.

"What're you two making?" the demon asked as politely as he possibly could. She still annoyed him greatly but he figured that if he was going to have to deal with her he might as well try. He rounded the side of the counter, planting his hands on the top, his stone one scraping on the surface. Behind him his tail swished easily, twitching from time to time from the music.

Mary glanced at his hand briefly, her eyes analyzing it for a moment before turning back to her work.

"We were making a pizza. It's a dessert pizza made with cookie dough and candy toppings with icing," she replied as she tossed the dough in the air, catching it with closed fists and spinning it about. "When I was seventeen, I worked at a Dominos and learned to slap dough."

Hellboy had to crack a smile at that.

"Dominos pizza is disgusting."

Mary laughed whole heartedly before gently laying out the uncooked cookie on a big round baking sheet.

"Absolutely. And I know especially since I know what ingredients they use."

"Ew."

"Ew is right."

He looked about, realizing how quiet John was, only to discover that the man had somehow managed to slip out, unnoticed.

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to make something?" Mary offered as she set the sheet in the oven and setting the timer. Hellboy had just settled into one of the barstools that sat along with counter before glaring at the woman.

"I'm capable of making myself food, Short-Stuff."

"Oh, I know," she responded lightly, wiping her hands on a cloth. "But I'm in a cooking mood and I feel like doing it. Have you ever had a grilled cheese sandwich?"

He looked at her like she was perfectly stupid, which he was starting to believe she was.

"Yeah, who hasn't?"

She grinned a bit diabolically before going to the large steel refrigerator and pulling out several ingredients.

"Okay, how about a four-cheese sandwich with blueberries?"

Now that made him pause and stare at her. She was insane, he decided sourly. The only response he could offer was a blunt shake of his head. Mary smiled again and set about to make it.

"I know it sounds funky but its actually really good. I had a friend back in Nevada where I lived who wanted to be a chef," she explained as she cut several blocks of cheese and laid them out. "He used to make some of the oddest dishes but they were awesome."

Hellboy continued to stare mutely at her as she rinsed a handful of ripe blueberries, looking up at him to make sure he had paid attention. After a moment she shrugged it off again, turning on the stove and going to dig in cabinets. He watched her amusedly as she crawled about on her knees, clattering pots and pans for something.

"Need help?" he finally asked, holding back laughter slightly. Mary shook her head, still on her knees on the floor.

"I need a skillet. A flat skillet like for pancakes."

"On the left, bottom level."

Mary sat up on her legs, hands planted on her thighs, gazing at him in vague confusion. Turning back to the counter she leaned so she could reach into the cabinet without moving in her seat. He eyed her hips and stomach as she stretched, the muscles moving as she fumbled about.

Finally she withdrew, holding a flat metal skillet by the handle. She gave him an amused, thankful glance before getting up.

"Wouldn't think you to be the type to memorize a kitchen," she commented as she set it on stove. Hellboy rolled his golden eyes before snatching a cut of cheese and munching on it.

"Yeah, well, wouldn't think you to be the type to make people beat themselves with their own arms, Short-Stuff," he returned a bit snidely. Mary flipped one of the sandwiches with a spatula to send him a sore glance.

"Is that my new nick name?"

"For now, Shorty."

"You still real mad about that whole thing?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"I could've been mean and made you hit with your right arm, you know."

"You could've hit Myers instead."

"Nah, he would've cried," she giggled meanly as she set the steaming sandwiches on a plate and cut them. Hellboy grinned before he could catch himself and nodded in agreement.

"You don't like Myers?" he asked curiously as she walked over and sat down across from him. She shrugged as she settled down in her spot, leaning on her elbows, hands fiddling together.

"He's alright. Little quiet and a bit wimpy seeming but nice," she waited for a moment, looking at him intently. He frowned at her sudden staring.

"What?"

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, are you going to try it?"

Hellboy eyed the sandwiches sitting in front of him innocently, golden brown and dripping with cheese. Parts of it were stained blue from the blueberries and it worried him. Almost timidly, he picked up one and lifted it to his face. Carefully he sniffed it before nibbling on it, staring in a challenging way at her hazel eyes. After a moment he looked at the sandwich in surprise before taking another bite.

It was nothing he really expected it to be. He lifted what was left in surprised salutation to her before finishing it off.

"Its good."

Mary smiled at the slight compliment.

"Of course it is."

"You might want to make about…oh…another fifteen of them."

She stared at him dumbfounded before bouncing out of her seat towards the refrigerator.

"I'm gonna need more blueberries! Unless you don't mind peaches."

"Nope. I never figured fruit would taste good with cheese."

"What about Danishes?"

"Oh, yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment or two, Hellboy distracting himself with his food while Mary made a tower of sandwiches.

"So…Nevada, huh?"

"Yep."

"What's that like?"

Mary shrugged as she came back over, placing the tall mass of sandwiches in front of him and settling in her seat.

"Desolate, covered in bushes and pathetic."

"Sounds like Manning's love life," Hellboy commented evilly, knowing it would at least make her laugh. And she did, fully, and it startled him how well she could laugh. Before he figured laughing was just something you did, easily and with no real art to it. But watching the way her cheeks turned pink and her lips turned into a smile as her honey-gold voice rang in mirth, he realized that it was almost like singing.

"Now, don't you tell him that. Somehow it'll come back to me and I'd rather that didn't happen," she asked as she calmed down, smoothing her brown hair from her face. Hellboy snorted but shrugged in compliance.

"Don't know what in the hell he'd do about it, Squirt."

"That's not the point. I'm new here. I want to make a good impression," she explained, picking off a bit of the burnt cheese from around the edges of the food, nails easily clipping them off.

"Lotta good that'll do ya."

She rolled her eyes but let it go, turning about to stare at the windowless room, at its shining floors and metal cabinets. He jumped slightly when she turned back to him, catching him staring. She smiled lightly, her brow creased a little in weariness.

"So…do you still hate me?" she asked quietly but solemnly, her hazel eyes boring into his. Hellboy, caught off guard, ran a hand over his filed horns and ebony ponytail, feeling a bit put on the spot. Finally he let out a low 'bah' and smiled ruefully.

"I didn't really hate you. I just didn't really like you either," he replied, not wanting to really explain the whole story. But she seemed fairly happy with the answer anyway.

"Well, I'm glad you don't hate me. It would be a bad way to start off a partnership."