For once, Nat returned his answer with a genuine grin, more than glad to be past the rough patch, even if it could only be temporarily.
"All right, first, wash your hands," she instructed, gesturing to the kitchen sink. "Soap is right there, in the bottle with the funky…squirt lid."
Nat made a face, displeased at how badly she'd described the soap dispenser.
Tavington nodded, and started for the soap; he'd already seen a familiar bottle in the bathroom and had no trouble washing up at the kitchen sink. His hostess followed suit, and then gestured to one of the lower cupboards, two doors to the left of the sink.
"Pots are there; get a big one." Nat instructed.
The colonel listened and stooped before the cupboard door, opening it to a thunderous crash.
"God-!"
Nat blushed.
"It's a little crowded…"
"Did you ever consider putting the pots in a designated, orderly space?" William snarked, ever one to avoid messiness.
"I would if I had the time," Nat gritted back.
"Later then," Col. Tavington grumbled picking through the disarrayed cookery to find large, copper-bottomed pot.
Nat grunted in response and took the pot, filling it two-thirds full with water.
"Okay, salt is in the cabinet back there," she pointed behind her to one of the upper cupboards.
Tavington closed the cookery cupboard and went to get the salt, hesitating momentarily when he spotted a pack of condoms in the front corner; he had seen them once before but had neglected them completely shortly after."
"What is this?"
"Hmm?" Nat answered, occupied by the stove as she turned the knob to start the flame on the front left burner.
"What is this?" William repeated, holding up the condom packet.
"What is- oh…" The woman swallowed and snatched the packet from his hand, hastily stuffing it in the back of the cupboard; the colonel's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Well," he demanded.
"It's a condom," Nat replied flatly. "Contraception."
"Condom," William echoed; such things did exist to his knowledge, but they were nothing like the thing he saw in the packet.
"Well what is it? It's not sheepskin…."
"No, it's rubber, latex." Nat explained, regaining herself from the momentary embarrassment. "But the same rules apply… except, you throw it away after one use." She finished emphatically.
"All right," Tavington held up his hands, attempting to deflect an argument.
Nat inhaled and allowed herself to deflate, remembering that she had parlayed with the officer, and heated words would not help.
"Okay, um, get the salt; there's a small shaker of it on the table. We won't need very much."
William clenched his jaw and listened, moving around the counter to the table, accidently catching Mo in the chest with his foot; the dog let out a yelp and Tavington looked down in irritation.
"Well it was you who wasn't looking," Nat warned.
Tavington took a breath and looked down at Mo, who was skulking away under the table.
"Still just a dog." He murmured before returning to Nat's side.
"All right, watch the water in the pot and let me know when it starts to boil." The woman continued. "When it does, we can add salt."
Tavington nodded and stared moodily at the water. Steam began to rise but there was no boil.
"This is interminable," he gritted.
"It's going to take time. Besides, if you rush it, it won't turn out right. Wait another minute and then it'll start boiling."
Tavington sighed and Nat rolled her eyes.
"Have you never cooked a meal before?" she blurted.
"Of course I have." The colonel huffed. "When I needed to; otherwise the staff prepared meals. But, a soldier does what must be done out of necessity."
"Right," Nat bit her lip. "But I'm not just going to serve all your meals for you. You're a guest, not a leech."
Col. Tavington's lips curled.
"I gathered as much."
"Good, watch the water." Nat ordered.
"Very well."
A minute later, bubbles began to rise to the surface.
"Here's the salt; give it a couple of taps into the water. Add only a little just to make sure the noodles don't stick and get all starchy."
Nat offered William the salt; instead of simply taking the shaker, Tavington covered her hand with his and tipped the shaker doward, with two quick taps. The woman looked over at him, blushing, but he maintained an indifferent countenance.
"I didn't want to overpour the amount."
"Sure," she retorted. "Is that one of your lines?"
"Lines?" Tavington answered with a laugh. "I can do far better than that."
"Oh," Nat echoed, taking a bundle of thin spaghetti noodles from a box and instructing the colonel to lay them in the water, half exposed. "You guys think it's so easy…"
"Perhaps because it is," William's voice whispered close to her hear; she could almost feel his mouth brush near her neck and she jumped when she his breath touched her skin.
"Goddmamit! Stop that!"
The colonel backed away, relishing her discomfort.
"No harm done…" he chided innocently.
"Yeah, whatever, pervert. Watch the noodles; it'll be about seven minutes before they're ready. I"ll heat the sauce."
Within minutes, the kitchen smelled of steam, and heated marinara. Tavington actually paused to take in the smell of hot food that, for once, was not gruel.
"Almost ready," Nat pulled him back, setting a bottle of parmesean cheese on the table; William gave her an odd look.
"It's cheese; you put it over the noodles and sauce."
Tavington looked unconvinced.
"You don't have to."
"I won't."
"Your loss," Nat shrugged. "Sauce is done, give the noodles another minute and they should be ready."
The colonel grunted and turned his attention back to the pasta.
"Mmm… This is gonna be good!" Nat sniffed deeply, leaning over the pot of hot marinara.
"Are we quite ready?" Tavington asked, his stomach churning.
"Just a second; I have to appreciate good work."
"Like the French," William scoffed.
"But they have good food. So… what do you have? Dried, unchewable meat?"
"It's livable," Tavington reddened.
"But this," Nat spoke dramatically, "This is more than livable. This is food paradise!"
"And when do I get a bite of this paradise?" Tavington asked thinly.
"Uh... now."
Grabbing a plate off the counter, Nat served the colonel a generous portion of the spaghetti and his eyes widened.
"That's just for me?"
"Yeah…" The woman looked at him quizzically.
"Do I look like a corpulent pig?" he chastised. "This could keep several men fed for a meal."
Nat sighed.
"Hey, that's serving size here, yeah? Just eat it; we'll do something about the leftovers-"
"Leftovers? You eat it again?" Tavington was aghast. "After it's been…chewed on?"
"Something like that.."
"That is worse than street scum," William sniffed.
"It's not like they're drowning in spit and ick," Nat replied defensively. "We put it back in the fridge, because nowadays, we can keep food cold so that it stays fresh for a longer period of time. But go one, eat." Nat was not interested in beginning another lengthy discussion about how 'now' functioned as opposed to 'then'.
"How much sauce?"
"As much as you'd like. Use the ladel."
Still unsure, the colonel scooped up half a ladel of sauce and poured it straight on top of the noodle heap.
"What you're not going to spread it around?" Nat asked. "You want to actually taste it."
Without waiting for his permission, she took the colonel's fork and stirred the noodles and sauce until they bled in to one another.
"I can very well feed myself," Tavington said in an icy tone, taking the fork from her.
"Whatever," Nat brushed him off. "Take a bite."
Settling at the table, William edged Mo aside, staring pensively at his plate, his fork held stationary in his hand.
"Twist the noodles with the fork, and use the knife as a guide." Nat instructed. "Otherwise, they'll just fall off."
Heeding her advice, Tavington stuck his fork in the middle of the heap and turned it, watching the spaghetti gather and twist around the utensil. With the knife, he made sure to have just enough spaghetti on the fork without making the serving too large, and slowly took his first bite.
The sauce wasn't sweet but tasty all the same.
"It doesn't quite taste like tomato," he said after he'd finished the first bite. "It's…runny," Tavington grimaced as a droplet of the sauce dripped down the corner of his mouth; quickly, he dabbed it away.
"There's other stuff in the sauce, and different tomatoes are used for cooking." Nat replied, settling down across from him. "How are the noodles."
"Slimy…" Tavington frowned. "They haven't any taste.." he finished with a hiss when some of the sauce splattered onto his shirt. "Bloody usless if I can't even eat it."
"Don't put so much on your fork . And, that's what the sauce is for. You add the taste you want." She finished, slurping up a single noodle while the colonel gawked at her. "."
"Oh come on, everyone has to slurp a noodle once."
"It's childish," the colonel answered stiffly. "I will not."
"It won't kill you. And no one else is here."
"It's repulsive." Tavington picked at his food, taking another bite. "I will eat mine as I will."
Nat slurped another noodle and he glared when some of the sauce splattered on her chin.
"But it's good, right?" she asked, turning serious. "The food?"
William let the question hang as he reached for the parmesean, drizziling it lightly over his plate before taking another bite.
"It's bitter," he commented. "But it blends well with the sauce, and mellows out the more the two mix."
"So it's good?"
William eyed Nat quietly before acknowledging her , turning the corner of his mouth upward.
"It is decent."
