This fic is from a prompt given to me by my husband. From Flash Fiction Friday's prompt: Deceiving Fragrance
It was not a deceiving fragrance. At all. It was the norm – for them.
The smell of burning filled the kitchen. The smoke alarm went off. MAX came rushing in, arms waving, and promptly let loose a stream of fire extinguisher.
On the tray of black circles that had once been chocolate chip cookies. Black and crispy. And now decorated with white foam.
MAX chirped at Grandma and she sighed.
It didn't matter how much she tried, Sally always burnt the cookies. Ok, sure, she always burnt practically everything she cooked.
So it was with some surprise that Gordon appeared, drawn no doubt by the smell of burning, grabbed a handful of paper towels and began blotting the cookies. She stood there, bemused, as Gordon scooped the now dry cookies into a bag, flashing her a smile, kissing her cheek and leaving.
What the hell?
This was repeated. Over the next few weeks Gordon was there every time Sally cooked cookies. Burnt, crispy, black, foamed or not foamed, Gordon took them all.
What the hell?
Even his brothers had begun to be a little suspicious of Gordon's sudden shocking want for Grandma's cookies.
Finally, almost three weeks since Gordon's weird behaviour started, Scott had had enough. He followed Gordon to his room and stood in the doorway. Gordon ignored him, used to having a big brother watching him, and continued to place the cookies into the box where the others were stored. The box was full now.
'Perfect.'
'Gordon, what on earth are you doing?'
But Gordon just grinned and motioned Scott to follow him. They walked through the house, down towards the hangars and eventually out to the shooting range. It was a seldom used place, and only Scott and Gordon used it. Although Scott suspected Kayo does too.
The shooting range is huge, with high ceilings, and for just a moment Scott thought his brother has gone mad. Because he'd watched Gordon load the trap with cookies before he turned to Scott with that ridiculous grin.
'What are you doing?'
'You missed your target with the grapple gun.'
'Gordon, that was three weeks ago, and I didn't miss. The rock crumbled.'
'You would never have missed before.'
'Rubbish, Gordon. That target area was minute, and I didn't miss!'
'You're out of practice with mini targets, bro, and since we don't have any mini targets, I'm improvising.'
Gordon pressed the button and the trap whirs into life. He passed Scott one of the guns, a small calibre pistol that had a similar size to the grapple point. He watched as Scott checked the mechanism, like he'd been doing this for years even though Gordon knew that he hasn't touched a live gun for a number of years.
Headphones on, Scott braced himself, got ready and called.
'Pull.'
And he shot the cookies out of the sky. Gordon was right - the cookies made excellent clays.
After all the cookies were gone Gordon slung his arm around Scott's shoulder and the two leant against the wall. Scott hadn't missed a shot, as Gordon had expected. He knew that Scott hadn't really missed, but he was also aware that some practice was well overdue. The number of grapples that Scott went through, and the practice that Brains set up, was all well and good, but it didn't hone his brother's targeting skills like shooting did.
Not that either of them were thinking of introducing firearms back into iR. They had tranq guns, sure, but they were rifles that rarely saw the light of day. No, this was just needed practice.
Besides, it was an excuse to spend time with his brother.
'So. Grandma's cookies.'
'Yep.'
'Inspired.'
'Yeah, just don't tell Grandma what I really used them for.'
'I don't know, Gordon. If I tell her, maybe she'll stop cooking them.'
They eventually left, making their way back up to the lounge where a delicious and frankly unusual fragrance was making itself known. Was that…actual cookies? Both brothers' mouths watered as they entered the kitchen.
This was not a deceptive smell either.
MAX was pulling cookies out of the oven. No burnt cookies in sight.