Lessons Learned

"We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink."

~Epicurus

"They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?" Rebecca asked.

"A sharp instrument slipped between the ribs would be more direct. As long as you aim slightly to the left of the sternum," Riza answered with a straight face. Rebecca punched her arm.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!" Riza retorted. "Did you even hear a word Major Winchester said in class today?"

"Never mind intercostal spaces, I'm talking about my future here!" Rebecca cried.

"Yes, because paying attention to the combat training that'll ensure you survive long enough to have a future is completely meaningless," Riza replied under her breath. Rebecca ignored her.

"Look, I've seen the way men drool over the housewifely types. You know: the ones who can cook and sew and all that tripe?" Rebecca asked.

Riza frowned. She could cook and sew and 'all that tripe.'

"I thought you couldn't stand the idea of...what was it? The 'simpering bits of fluff who've bought into the idea that a woman's place is barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?'" she said flippantly, trying not to think about how comfortable she'd always been in a kitchen.

"Come on, we both know a lot of those women are just brainless trophy wives," Rebecca maintained, folding her arms over her breasts and daring Hawkeye to contradict her. "But that doesn't mean that we should underestimate the value of a home cooked meal! Especially with the crap they feed us in mess. If I learn to cook, I could have these boys eating out of the palm of my hand!"

"Quite literally," Hawkeye agreed.

There was a short scuffle as Rebecca launched herself at the taller blonde and attempted to tweak her ear. Riza, putting their recent hand-to-hand lessons to the test, managed to block the attempt, duck under Rebecca's outstretched arm and pin Rebecca's arms to her sides from behind her. Although Rebecca squirmed loose before Riza had a firm hold on her and quickly danced out of her reach.

Ignoring the stares they'd drawn, Hawkeye absently straightened her white cadet's blouse while Catalina smoothed her dark curls, and both girls resumed their leisurely walk across the courtyard as though nothing unusual had happened.

"So...come on, what do you say?" Rebecca cajoled, hitting Riza with her best imitation of puppy dog eyes as they passed a group of bewildered upperclassmen.

"What do I say about what, exactly?" Riza asked, warily. She had a feeling she knew where this was headed.

"I know you can cook," Rebecca replied. "I've seen you in action!"

"Peeling potatoes doesn't require much in the way of culinary prowess," Riza evaded.

"Don't try and play dumb - you told me yourself that you were a good cook," Rebecca retorted, fixing her friend with an accusatory glare.

Had she? Well, damn. Hawkeye sighed.

"Tell me again why you never learned to cook? I'm the orphan, here. What's your excuse?"

"Well...Mom tried. But I wasn't much good at the following instructions part," Rebecca mumbled. "Eventually she gave up and set her sights on my little sister, and everyone was much happier for it."

"Let me guess. You're one of those people who can't even boil water without causing some sort of catastrophe, aren't you?"

"Yep! So you've got your work cut out for you!" Riza sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"All right. Suppose I agree," she said, regretting it even as the words left her lips. "Where exactly do you propose to have this cooking lesson? We live in dorms, remember? We don't even have running water in our rooms, let alone the appliances necessary to prepare food."

"Sure we do! The kitchen's enormous!"

"The dining hall kitchen?" Riza asked with an incredulous half-laugh. "And just how will we arrange for permission to have a cooking lesson there?"

"You let me worry about that. You just be ready to impart all that culinary knowledge when the time comes."

"You're going to get us both kicked out one of these days, you know that?" Hawkeye asked. Catalina noticed that she still hadn't outright refused, and she grinned over at her.

"Hey, they'll have to catch us first!"

And so, less than a week later, Hawkeye found herself leading an impromptu cooking class in the middle of the night.

"Oh for the love of...give me that," she sighed, rescuing a mangled onion from Rebecca's grasp. "You're worse off than I thought. Here, like this." Even Mr. Mustang had had some rudimentary skills when they'd first met, Riza mused. And she'd thought he was hopeless. But at least he'd been able to chop vegetables into relatively equal pieces. Rebecca made him look like a world class chef in comparison.

Rebecca pouted for a moment, but watched carefully as Riza demonstrated an easier, less haphazard way to dice an onion.

"Maybe I should just watch you," she suggested when Riza handed her another onion to chop.

"You'll never learn that way," Hawkeye said firmly. "Remember the potatoes? Go on, give it another try."

"Can't we make something else besides meatloaf?" Rebecca whined, glaring over at the mixing bowl containing the raw ground beef. "Something more...I dunno, sexy. Like Pâté de Canard en Croûte?"

"Pâté de...do you even know what that is?" Hawkeye asked, incredulous. Leave it to Catalina to dream big, she thought.

"Nope!" Rebecca admitted. "But it sounds sexy, doesn't it?"

"Trust me on this. You ought to master the basics before you try to take on the notoriously difficult recipes," Hawkeye chuckled. "Besides, meatloaf is one of the dishes on the menu for tomorrow, which means they've got all the ingredients we need, and they probably won't notice that a few things are missing."

"Oh all right, all right. But it seems like such a boring meal," Rebecca pouted.

"It's a classic comfort food for a reason," Riza said, smiling. "Besides, a lot of men prefer the simpler meat-and-potatoes dishes over more complex fare."

"Yeah?" Rebecca had a sudden epiphany. "Wait, you're speaking from experience! You little minx! How many men have you seduced with your cooking?"

"Nothing drives them to distraction like my meatloaf and mashed potatoes," Riza deadpanned. "In fact, my recipe for chicken and dumplings is so irresistible I've been chasing men off my doorstep since the day I first wielded a saucepan."

"I knew you were holding out on me," Rebecca muttered darkly.

Twenty minutes, two pounds of ground beef, three eggs, four onions and a slightly burned thumb later, Rebecca slammed the oven door closed on the fruits of her labor.

"This is stupid. I'm never gonna remember all this stuff. Maybe I should just hire someone to make stuff for me..." she added speculatively.

"You'd better not be looking at me," Riza returned, archly. Rebecca was, of course, looking directly at her friend. "I'm not a caterer, Catalina!" Riza protested, crossing her arms.

"But you're so much better at this than meeeee!" Rebecca wailed.

"God, I can see it now," Riza moaned, untying her apron and lobbing it into the hamper with the other dirtied aprons and dish towels. "Suffering from a moment of temporary insanity, I'll reluctantly agree to help you make a meal to impress your latest potential soul mate. And then I'll spend the entire day slaving over a hot stove, while you bat your eyelashes at the poor schmuck and claim all the credit."

"Well, I couldn't very well tell him the truth; he'd dump me in a heartbeat to chase after you," Rebecca agreed, grinning.

"So instead, your lover-boy will fall head over heels for my amazing cooking," Riza continued, trying and failing to hide her smile. "In fact he'll be so smitten by the home-cooked meal that he'll whisk you off to be married right then and there. And then I'll spend the rest of my life chained up in your dark, damp basement, making all of the meals for you both lest he someday discover the truth and kick you to the curb," she finished, chuckling.

"Oh come on! I'd never do that!" Rebecca cried. "I mean, your basement cell would be warm and dry and airy! And I'd let you have a window. With gingham curtains and everything! You'd never even miss your normal life, I promise," she laughed.

"Thanks ever so much," Riza said sarcastically. "But I've been the overworked and underappreciated housefrau. I think I'll pass. And you know, I think you're overlooking something important, here."

"What's that?" Rebecca asked, quirking a brow.

"If you married into money, then your husband would already have a household staff - one that probably includes a cook. So you'd never even need to step foot in a kitchen, much less resort to kidnapping."

Rebecca's jaw dropped open.

"Brilliant. You're a fucking genius, Riza," she breathed. "Why didn't I think of that before? To snag a rich older guy, I just need to be young and pretty, and I've totally got that part down already! This opens up SO many possibilities! Now, where does one meet the wealthy bachelors in this town…?"

"Oh, that's just wonderful. I've created a monster," Riza grumbled, warily watching her starry-eyed friend twirl around the kitchen in delight.

"Hey, I just thought of something else," Rebecca said, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the oven. "What are we gonna do with these two pans of meatloaf, once they're done?"

"Stick them in the fridge and hope no one notices," Riza shrugged, unconcerned. "Hopefully they'll just serve them up with everything else tomorrow without asking questions."

Turning to her left, Rebecca pried open one of the doors of the stainless steel industrial refrigerator.

"Hmm…" she said, eyeing the contents thoughtfully. "Well, at least there's plenty of room in here. Oh, hey, aren't these—?"

"Fresh peaches," Riza supplied, peering over Rebecca's shoulder. Both girls paused to savor the sweet, slightly tangy scent of ripe peaches wafting out of the open door. And then Riza's face took on a slightly mischievous look. "Say, Catalina…we haven't talked about desserts, yet."

"And you thought you'd created a monster?" Rebecca murmured with amusement as her friend nudged her aside and started gathering peaches.

"Even if you're a lousy cook, you ought to be able to seduce that rich older man of yours with baked goods," Riza replied, adding shortening and flour to the pile of peaches on the counter. "And a fresh peach pie will get your foot in the door. I guarantee it. Can you pass me a pie tin? Third cupboard on the left."

"Seriously, how do you know all this stuff?" Rebecca asked. And she wasn't referring to the layout of the kitchen. "I mean, exactly how many broken hearts have you left in your wake, you little temptress?" She caught the peach that was thrown at her head just before it hit her face. "Hey!"

"Do you want to learn to bake a pie or not?" Riza asked, casually tossing another peach in the air and catching it one-handed.

Glancing from her friend to the peach in her own hand, Rebecca grinned.

"Well...I suppose it couldn't hurt to take advantage of all the assets at my disposal, huh? Bring it on, Riza-sensei!"

"That's the spirit," Riza laughed.

A.N. For the record, I'm not the greatest cook, but I am a pretty decent baker. Though I've yet to seduce anyone with my cheesecake, I do get lots of requests when the holidays roll around, LOL. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated!

xoxo Janie