Marisol didn't need to clean really, she tried to keep it nice. It made her feel like she was in control for once. She did, however, make sure that the kitchen was pristine because it was Cook. She wanted to impress him, but she just hoped that he didn't think differently about her when he saw everything in her appartment. It was nice, it seemed too nice for Cook. Not by any means was she was saying that he was low class, he just had a personality where he liked the whole grungy thing. Suddenly she felt like everything was too clean, so she put some dishes in the sink and strung a few articles of clothing around, on the couch, bed, floor. She stood in the center of her living room with her hands on her hips.
'There,' Marisol thought to herself. 'That's better.'
Cook had told Paddy where he was going, then left on his way. He wasn't sure what he was making or anything of the sorts. But it wouldn't be too hard. He wasn't even half naked this time, but instead in his jeans and a polo. His hair was messed up but he liked it like that. Double checking the address he nodded then knocked on her front door.
Marisol jumped a bit at the knock she heard. She checked her appearance in the mirror on the wall and walked to the door, timing it so he would think that she wasn't ten feet away. "Hey." She said, grinning like an idiot. Cook looked at her expectantly. "Oh! Come in, come in."
He nodded and walked inside of her house. "Nice place." He smiled. "Really, uh... clean." He took a look around again. "So, what am I cooking you this.." Taking a look at the clock he chuckled. "Evening."
Marisol mouthed fuck before closing the door and turning around. "Thank you. And, um, suprise me. Only this time I don't have any beer." She said, walking over to the island and hopping up on it, hitting her head on a hanging frying pan in the process. Cook laughed at her. "Frying pans. Who knew, huh?" Marisol said, laughing awkwardly.
"You really are nervous around me." He laughed and threw his phone on the counter, not bothering with it. "I don't know what you like." He walked over in front of her.
"I like a lot of things. A lot of these things don't involve food. But since we're both hungry, how about spaghetti?" Marisol said, leaning in a bit. Without looking, she handed him the pot that was sitting behind her and turned on the sink that was in the island as well.
"A lot of non-food things?" He smirked and winked at her, taking the pot. He began to fill it with water, then set it on the counter. "Noodles?" He began looking through the cabinets until he found them.
"Yeah, a lot of non food things. Latch-Hook, for example." Marisol said, watching Cook as he rummaged around her kitchen. "Puppies. Sleeping. Twister… In fact, I'm having a sexy twister party soon, you should come. It's actually a bit of a birthday party, seeing as it's my birthday tomorrow…" She got quieter on the last half of the sentance. She didn't really like to talk about her birthday. Bad things always managed to happen in the years before.
"Birthday? I might have to stop by." He smiled and began cooking up the meat and sauce. "Finally gonna be legal?" He winked again, seeing as many of the people here weren't really all that old.
"Not quite. Seventeen instead. I wish I was eighteen, then I could be free to be where ever I want, and no one can tell me what to do. I can go somewhere where nobody knows me. I was thinking Tennesse, actually. I hear it's nice in the States." She wanted to be free of her father at last. Free of her past. Well, not all of it, she wanted to keep her friends. She just hoped that her being under age didn't put Cook off.
"No shit? Seventeen." He shook his head. "Good thing jailbate has never bothered me before." He stirred the sauce a little bit, and checked the noodles. "The states. Never been to em, but they can't be all bad. I personally would go back to Bristol. Loved it there."
"Jailbait? Having Minor-Adult relationships is only illegal if the person is four years older than you, and there's no way that you are that much older than me. Besides, I've been told since I was in about sixth grade that I look and act way older than I am. Part of it is just my personality, part of it I was forced into." Marisol said, then she quickly went back to their conversation. "And you're from Bristol, aren't you? If you're far enough away from the place you grew up in, you don't mind going back, That's an obvious thing. States definitely aren't all bad, I want to live in Tennessee. I'm thinking of Universities there. UT is where my mom went. She grew up there, pretty well was raised on the campus."
"You and your mum close?" He asked, shaking his head at all thoughts of his own mum. "I've never understood parent/kids relationships." He shrugged, while draining the noodles. "My own mum doesn't give two fucks about me, shipped me out here just so she didn't have to deal with me. And me dads and alcoholic wouldn't surprise me if he's even around anymore."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. My mom… she's not really… She commited suicide when I was nine. My dad, he hit me and her and my brother a lot. She was really depressed, lost mother, hated how we were living. Found her hanging in the foyer of our old house, so after a three week stint in the hospital for me, due to my dad absolutely losing it, my father, brother and I picked up and moved here. We were close, but sometimes I can't help but resent her. You know? She left me and my brother here with this man who makes our lives hell, and then my brother commited suicide as well, and then I had no one. At that point, I didn't even have Taylor. But I stayed with my dad, because if I thought that I had no one, he had no one and nothing. It got really bad at times, and my friends begged me to tell someone, ask for help but I wouldn't do it. He put me in the hospital for two weeks and then I was done. And somehow, he undersood that. So he set me up here. And wow, I just unloaded all of that on you, didn't I? I'm sorry."
"Yeah." He nodded and scooped her up a plate of food. "It's alright though. I get it." He nodded again, not really knowing what to say, so instead he changed the subject. "I hope you're hungry. Because I hate red sauces."
"Well, why the fuck didn't you suggest something else then?" Marisol asked. "You're weird, by the way. Seriously, I don't want to eat and have you not eat. I can put this away and we'll say I owe you another since you're providing me with food for tomorrow. We can order in."
"You said you wanted this, so that's what you got. I was just making you feel good." He shrugged. "I don't care what we do. I just don't like chillin' out alone. It gets boring fast."
"Well, thanks, then. Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes I just wish I had someone else around you know? Like, a dog or something." Suddenly, Marisol's doorbell wrang. 'What the hell?' She thought. "Probably just one of the kids on this damn floor playing ding-dong ditch." She told Cook.
"Go check it out. If it is, then they'll be back." He nodded waiting for her to check it out. "If they do come back, I have a plan."
Marisol stood and walked to the door. When she opened it there was a box there.
"What the fuck?" She said. She stared at the box, shook it a little. Then she felt it move. "What the actual fuck?!" She yelled. She held the box at arms length, and carried it inside. "Cook, open it." She said, tossing to the floor in front of him, then sitting back down. Cook shrugged, undoing the top flaps of the box, then he looked over to me in disbelief. "What is it?" She asked. "Speak of the devil. It's a fucking dog." Cook said. "WHAT?" Mariol exclaimed. She ran to look in the box, and in it sat a little beige Corgie. "Fucking Taylor!" Marisol said, picking the cute little furball up.
Cook laughed, and stood back up. "At least it's small?" He laughed again. "Happy birthday to you."
"OH MY GOD IT'S ADORABLE AND HIS NAME IS NORRINGTON AND I'M GOING TO KEEP HIM FOREVER." Then, another bell. Marisol sighed, exasperated. "Looks like the little fuckers really are out playing tonight. Could you take care of that?"
"I got this." Cook smirked and took his shirt off, then grabbed a nearby squirt gun and walked outside. He then began to laugh. "Look! It was a bunch of girls." He smirked as they started to watch him.
The shirt came off. bad things tended to happen when they were in a room together and the shirt came off. Marisol carried Norrington with her around the appartment and wrote down a list of things that she was going to need for him. Once Cook left (If he left at all) she would go to geth pet supply store if it wasn't really late. For the night, she would just need to set up a make-shift cage out of… something. Outside, she heard a shriek. She laughed to herself and yelled out the open door, "GIVE 'EM HELL FOR ME, COOKIE!"
Cook laughed outside, as he started talking to the girls. It probably didn't look good if people were watching, beings that he was shirtless and in the middle of the street with three or four girls. They were giggling, and flipping their hair, complimenting him, all of it.
Marisol successfully created a pen out of two chairs and a bedsheet and plopped Norrington in it. Cook had been gone for a while, and it couldn't have taken him that long to run the kids off, so she stepped outside and saw him surrounded by a group of girls in full swing flirt mode. Not that she could blame them, Cook was a very attractive specimen, and he could turn on the charm when he wanted to, but it still pissed her off.
"Cook." She called, but he hadn't heard her. "COOK!" She yelled, and everyone stopped talking. "Are you coming back inside?"
Cook had looked up. "Uh, yeah. Be right there." He nodded and told the girls goodbye, after having a few numbers written along his arm in permanent marker he finally got back inside. "Hey."
"Hi." She said tersely. She knew it was ridiculous to be angry with him, but she couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. "Sluts, all of them. They're from around here. I swear there's a brothel somewhere up the street."
"Sluts aren't bad people." He smirked and looked along his arm. "They liked me, it was fun. I like having friends." He chuckled.
"That's certainly not what I was saying." Marisol defended. "And everyone likes you. But I think I've figured something out about you. I don't think you know who you can trust."
"Who I can trust?" He asked. "I don't trust anyone, cept Paddy. That's all. Everyone else fucks you over."
"I know what that's like. Oh, let's use this again, it was fun last time. Fact: I wear my heart on my sleeve. I can be friends with anybody, learn to trust anybody and then have my heart stomped on by anybody. So let's make a little agreement, you and me. You promise not to stomp on my heart, and I promise you can trust me. With anything."
Cook took it into consideration. "Deal." He nodded. "How would I know if I even stomped on your heart?"
"Oh, you would know. You seem like you're sharper than the average tack. You could figure it out."
"Don't give me too much credit now." He laughed.
"I have a theory that everyone could be a genius, but I think you, and I for that matter, are being judged by our interests and pasts. Say we're fish right? Well, a fish can go it's entire life thinking it's an average fish. But when you judge a fish by it's ability to climb a tree, you can't expect the fish not to think themselves stupid. I feel stupid every day of my life. I hate that I feel that way. I can't stand people who make me feel that way.
Yeah.." He looked around, a bit lost. "Fish..right.." He shook his head, made a little face. "To be honest, you lost me on that one, starfish." He winked at her.
"Basically, if you judge a person by something they can't do… I'm never gonna live that down am I?" She smiled and then covered her eyes with her hands. "What is wrong with me? Some days I feel like I'm going crazy. Others. I feel like I'm on top of the world. The days in between, I feel like everything is slipping throught my fingers."
Cook shrugged. Still not really knowing what to say. "So…" He looked around again. "Wanna go do something?"
"Like what?" Marisol looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow.
"I dunno." He shrugged. "Something that doesn't require a shirt, mainly because I don't wanna wear one, and partly because your dog just stole mine."
"What? Oh, he did didn't he? I'm sorry. Well, come the hell over here, we can watch a movie or snuggle or something."
Cook nodded, liking the sounds of that. "Sounds like a good time." He walked over by her, and sat down on the couch.
Marisol exhaled through her mouth and leaned her head against his shoulder. "What's Paddy doing?" she asked.
Cook glanced at the clock. "Probably sleeping, or eating. I'm not exactly sure." He shrugged and moved his arm around her shoulder.
Marisol clutched at his arm with both of her hands and sighed. "You must love him a lot to take care of him like you do. I can't wait to see what kind of little person he is." She turned her nos clightly into his neck and breathed in. He smelled like… rain on hot pavement. And weed, there was definitely some of that in there.
It was not an unpleasant smell.
"I do." He nodded. "A lot actually. I love the little guy." He smiled and looked at the blank screen. "I love this show." He said, smirking.
"Shut up and let me be." She said. handing him the remote without moving. "You're wonderful, Cookie, you know that?"
"I've been told a few times." He chuckled and flipped through channels. "American Football…Oprah…Cartoon…Baseball." He smiled and turned on the baseball game. "Perfect."
"Difference in me and other people: I mean it, and everything else I say. If you're putting on baseball, you better be willing to carry me to bed, because this shit puts me to sleep, literally."
He shook his head and handed her the remote. "Find something else then."
"Ugh, That requires brain effort, I'm too full and tired for that. Leave it, if I fall asleep, I'll just sleep on the couch. I don't care."
"I could carry you to your bed." He laughed.
"Please? I Seriously couldn't move my legs if I wanted to." Marisol was so foggy, by this point all she could hope for was that she wouldn't say anything to over the top or out of line to Cook. The last thing she wanted was to lose him especially after she had just gained his trust.
"Yeah." He nodded. "I might as well just take you now." He stood up, then picked her up. "Which way?" Marisol pointed to the door just beyond the kitchen and Cook carried her there. He sat her gently on the bed. He sat her down and covered her up.
"All done." He nodded. "Anything else you need?"
"Stay with me?" She said lazily, sleep almost overcoming her. "Just tonight." Cook hesitantly nodded.
"Alright. I guess I can, where are your blankets and shit, I'll crash on the couch."
"Only blankets are on my bed. I'm almost asleep anyways, it'll be fine."
"Alright." He shrugged and walked over to the opposite side of the bed, and laid down. Marisol turned over so she was facing him.
"Thank you Cookie. Fight off the bed bugs for me, okay?" Cook nodded.
"Will do, darlin'." He smiled and pulled the blanket up.
"Nighty-night, love." Marisol said, and she drifted off to sleep.