A/N

I don't own anything. Seriously. I don't.

Hey hey, peepluz, BetterLivingIndustries and I made a killjoy smiley face! :D

Looks like this-

(:D)-+-,

I'm not sure if all of the symbols will show up, but if not, it's fucking awesome, and you gotsta take my word for that.

Seriousleh.

Sometimes I miss waking up to the sound of the birds, chirping up to the spring sky. Waking up to the warm beams of sun peeking through my lacy curtains onto my pale face.

But waking up in the arms of someone you feel stronger for each passing day makes up for the lack of singing sparrows. Because it's you that's singin' here.

I open my red eyes and glance to my right. Frank is lying on the mattress sideways, facing me. His face is calm, and he looks so young, so innocent, just lying there. I want to reach out and pinch his chubby cheeks.

I remember years ago, waking up to the same thing, but with someone else. His name was Chris. He was the first man I had ever loved, and man, had we been a kick-ass duo. The day he was ghosted is still imprinted in my memory, painful and sharp.

I shake off the tear stained memories and focus on where I am right now. The night before- Frank and I had just fallen asleep. I don't know how or why we ended up on my bed, but… We did. I didn't sleep with him- No, I would have to be extremely drunk to do that-, but just slept. Was that weird? Sharing a bed with a gorgeous man you have feelings for, and not getting laid?

Fuck that shit.

I stand up, careful not to wake Sleeping Beauty over there, and walk into the main room. Everyone is up and walking about, even Mikey, sitting on the couch, drinking a steaming cup of coffee.

Gerard turns to me and smiles. "Hey there, sleeping beauty." He laughs, taking a sip of his own cup.

I shake my head and walk across the room to pour myself some breakfast-in-a-cup. "Nah. That's Frank. He's fucking adorable when he sleeps, did you know that?" I muse, giggling along.

Mikey rolls his eyes in my direction. "You would know." He jokes, giving me a playful wink. I bat at his head in response.

"I will have you know," I tell him snootily, "That Frankfurt and I merely slept. We did not have a whorefest like I'm sure you imagined we did." I grin at him, mocking him with another cheesy wink.

"Cheeky girl." He says flatly, closing his eyes to savour the weak brew.

I look down at the warm mug. "Who got the coffee, anyway?" I ask anyone who cares.

Show Pony, who's across the room, pasting on some fun decals to his already extremely colourful ray gun, replies to my question. "While you were snoozing away with lover boy Frankie, Party and I went on a raid. Got coffee, cigarettes, some food and a few magazines."

"Shweeet!" I grin at the boys and skip happily over to Gerard, who's pouring himself a cup of the sweet caffeine. I snatch the full cup in his hands as he attempts to take a wary sip, and once again prance across the room, this time sitting down with my stolen cup of coffee.

I sink into the leather couch and close my eyes as the stimulant slid down my throat. "Good joe. Thanks, Gee." I smile at him cheekily, and he guards his new cup with a blistered hand.

"You could have asked nicely."

"I'm not a nice person."

"I've noticed." He chuckles, giving my hair a cute ruffle.

The room chatters for a few more minutes, until I set down the damaged mug with a loud chunk.

"So, ladies and gentlemen," I clear my throat, blowing at a strand of untameable hair. "What's the plan for this fine day?"

Party Poison speaks up, as the leader. "If you're asking what you can do," He pauses, thinking. "There's always dishes, patrol, kitchen work, and mapping and planning with Doctor D and I." He offers.

I shrug. "Gimme what you think is best."

"Bitch, get in the kitchen."

Well. Here's a moment of thought.

I am extremely against sexism. We females can do everything just as well if not better, but still are only 'allowed' to do half as much! I didn't get it. And as for those sammich jokes? Last motherfucker who said that ended up 'disappearing'. Total mystery. I thought it was fucked up, cruel, sexist and every other bad word that comes to mind. I told Gerard as much.

"Kidding, kidding!" He laughs loudly, and nervously, I may say, as he backs away from the death glare I'm giving him. "But really, some help would be really nice. It's Mikey's turn, but until his arm is back to normal, I don't want him using it much. We even got groceries for ya, Ivory."

Sighing, I make my way to the kitchen, grabbing a tattered apron from the tableside. "I'll do it, but only because you all cook like middle aged bachelors. Like, no can opener, no meal."

He shrugs it off and people get to work.

I click on the stove and on goes a greasy, bent and dented pot purchased from none other than good ol' scam artist Tommy Chow Mein. In goes water, some stock, and random packaged vegetables stolen by our good men. The broth soon turns to soup, and when no one's looking I sneak in something my European mother had taught me years ago.

"Honey, it's an egg drop noodle, not rabid foam." She says, with a roll of her amber eyes. I poke at it with my spoon, and cringe.

"Mommmm,"I whine. "It looks like bird poo-poo!" I tell her, smacking down the spoon onto the table. It bounces and knocks over a napkin dispenser.

She comes and sits next to me, placing her dainty white hand over my own. "Try it." She grinned at me. "Your grandmother always put these into my own soup. It's pretty much just egg, whisked into perfection. You just put it in the soup, like, PLOP! And it eventually cooks and makes these yummy noodles."

I gasp. "YOUR mom made these too? But did eggs exist back then?" I ask curiously, slowly raising a new spoon to my mouth. The broth was salty- but not too salty- and sweet at the same time. The noodles… If you could call them noodles, didn't have much flavour, but added a delicate texture.

She looks at me oddly. "What do you mean, back then? And of course they did, you silly goose!"

I shrug, taking another bite, savouring every last colourful flavour. "Jeffey in Ms. Howey's class tol' me chickens were invented in the 1700's. He knows everything."

"I'm the only one who knows everything," Mom winks at me, as she fades back into the kitchen, until she isn't there, sitting and joking me anymore.

Just like she had faded from my memory.

I shiver as the picture of my mother departed from my head. I stir in the noodles I had made while reminiscing, and the smell of carrots and celery flood into my nostrils as I open the metallic lid. I'm sure the others can smell it, too, because they start sniffing around too.

I smile. Nothing better than a good soup to cheer you up.

But hands on my waist startle me, and I whip my head around quickly, and almost decapitate Fun Ghoul with a ladle.

"Oh. Frank." I chuckle, giving him a quick kiss on his lips. They curl up into a cheery smile. "How long have you been awake for?"

He yawns, and that answers my question. "Not long. I appreciate you not waking me up, though. Haven't slept that well in a while." Frank smiles down at me, his eyes teary from just waking minutes ago.

"What are you making?" He asks me, peering over my shoulder. I quickly clamp my hands over his sight, making him step back a bit in surprise.

"Don't look!" I squeal. "A true cook never lets anyone see her dishes before she's done."

"Isn't that an artist?"

"Either way. Want a taste?"

"If I can eat it through your mouth."

"Don't make me puke in this epic substance. Say, 'aaah.'"

He does, indeed, say aaah, and I shovel a spoonful of the hot soup into his mouth.

"Hmmm," He ponders, and then opens his eyes and gives me his trademark mischievous grin. "Is it soup?"

I fake shock. "How did you know?" I gasp, moving the pot to an inactive burner. It was done.

"Eh, kind of runny for roast beef. So I went with soup."

"You're a wise man."

"I get that a lot, you know."

I chuckle, and bring out all of the bowls and cups we had. Luckily we had just enough for all of us.

"Guys? Soup's done like dinner!" I yell, handing Frank a few bowls and spoons to carry over to the table.

All of the inhabitants of the diner come running, and wheeling, of course, at top speed, not wanting to get there and have it gone. They're immediately sitting down in the booths, chattering away about who knows- and really, who cares?

Bowls, spoons, and cups go around, and then finally, being the cool guy he is, Ray goes around spooning people soup. It makes me smile to know people enjoy what I made.

But, as I scan through the people, I noticd one missing.

Where was Mikey?

I frown. It doesn't seem right we're all here eating without him, so I wander out of the room and into the other rooms.

I assumed he was under patrol, until I hear the shuffling of a box in Doctor D's cave. I press my ear against the door, and hear something shaking, like a box of Tic Tacs, or even bottle of pills.

Pills…

I rip open the door, ray gun safety off, pointed at the man in front of me. And there is what I expect to see least.

Kobra Kid, standing in the middle of the room, holding an open bottle of BL/i pills and a glass of water, in the middle of swallowing a few. His eyes hold no emotion- not regret, not shame, not even love.

And all we both have to say, is…

"Crap."

Sorry for taking so long. . I HATH BEEN BUSY! Anywho. Review! Whaddya think? :]