When Meta Knight said 'kitchen,' Morpho expected something out of someone's home. He was met with a cafeteria. There were nine tables, each with four chairs drilled into the floor.
The kitchen itself was the size of a standard living room- including a serving counter.
"Did you plan on housing a platoon here?" Morpho found the question slipping before he could catch it.
"Yes, actually." The blue knight responded, glancing back. "We fought a corporation who made demon beasts. Sixteen heros were on board during the flight."
His eyes danced with swirls of blue and pink, before settling back into yellow.
"That was the first ship design. We've had to drag this one out of Orange Ocean- ended up renovating it a couple times." The shorter, green knight continued.
"The right wing is being repaired from a recent event- you've seen where we were working." The taller knight finished.
"Kirby filled me in on the details." Morpho laughed, "Quite the little narrator here,"
Morpho couldn't shake the Halberd's similarities to the ancient technology Galacta was used to. From the smooth, polished surface of the walls, to the faint, blue tint that shone in the metal; it all felt very familiar to the warrior. They wanted to go back to the times before everyone lost their trust in him. Their heart ached for what felt like the tenth time that day, ready to burst in their self-pity.
Their daydream jolted away when they noticed a strange, little box behind the counter. A screen sat in the corner, displaying 19:30 in glowing red. A number-pad sat under the screen, along with a few more buttons.
"Is that… a bomb?" Their heart jumped into their throat- feet frozen in the doorway. The warrior fought to free himself, to get away from whatever that thing was. The butterfly held him still, whispering to just wait a moment. It looked too square to be a bomb, but what did he know?
"It's a microwave. We use it when we're too lazy to cook anything properly." Marx replied, grinning widely.
"Oh, is that so?" The taller knight spun on his heel to face the jester. His tone was more serious than he intended, yet held his ground.
"You bet!" Marx giggled, backing away. He sounded brash, yet his eyes matched those of the strongest warrior's fallen enemies; like a caged animal.
The shorter knight turned as well, "Excuse me? We cook properly for you all the time!"
The two knights stepped closer to the boy, almost in perfect sync. He shrieked loudly and backed away. His bones popped as he unhinged his jaw.
"Poy?" Kirby turned, expecting a murder scene.
What he got was a beach ball to the face.
By the time Meta realized the situation had escalated, he was faced with a pink puff whose face was turning red from being slapped, a winged jester whose jaw was flopped onto the floor, along with his two apprentices, who had ducked away from the projectile.
"Sword! Blade! Control yourselves!" He found himself at Kirby's side, looking over the boy carefully. Besides the tears lining his eyes and the bright red blemish that rivaled his blush, he seemed unharmed. The ball had knocked him off of his feet though, giving Meta the notion that he may have a concussion. He doubted it, but still considered keeping an eye on the puff.
He noticed that Morpho had retreated behind the doorway, hard-pressed into the wall like a child.
He… didn't mean that. He realized that the red knight was still injured from their battle, and that their reaction could have been more violent. Using the wall as a shield was fine.
What wasn't fine was Marx refusing to accept repercussions for his words. He looked over to the lavender jester, ready to deliver an earful about how he needed to stop prodding his subordinates.
Gooey murmured and plopped down next to Kirby, licking his friend's hand gently.
"Is-okay Gooey." Kirby smiled and scooted closer, patting the top of the blue glob's head.
"You're… red now!" Gooey poked the pink puff between his eyes with his tongue.
Kirby laughed, causing the pinpricks of tears in his eyes to run free. He missed Gooey! Even though both of them were such good friends, they hadn't seen each other since Popstar's rings shattered! He figured that was okay though, since they finally got to see each other again!
A purple vortex appeared next to them. It spit out a purple ball.
"Kirby, save me!" Marx whined, kicking himself to his feet and ducking behind the duo.
"Marx, what?" Kirby was stunned at the drop-in, wasn't he just at the other side of the room?
"Blueberry's mad at me again!"
"Oh, iss okay Meta!" The reddened puff stood up and faced Meta Knight, smiling effortlessly. "Not hurt!"
A pause, then another flash of pink. "Alright." He turned back to his subordinates, explaining their plan to talk with Morpho.
Speaking of Morpho…
Kirby waddled up the the knight and poked his gloved hand. He reacted by visibly jolting away and looking over.
"Oh, hey there." Morpho eased up and stepped away from the wall, feeling his face turn hot in embarrassment. "So, uh, what's up?"
Kirby pointed over to the counter, where an oversized tea kettle rested. "What iss your favorite tea? Meta wants to know."
Morpho hesitated, "Tell him to surprise me, I don't have a favorite." He hadn't had tea in such a long time… He was sure the taste would be absolutely foreign.
"Ot-kay!" The boy rushed back into the kitchen.
God, he needed a break. The only time he had properly rested was when he was sealed into the crystal, and even that wasn't proper. The ten-minute nap he took out of shock definitely didn't count to that total either. He considered curling up back into the corner and dozing, but became aware of how silly the idea was instantly.
"What'cha thinkin' about?" The voice of the purple jester from before…
"...Marx, was it?" Morpho confirmed, then paused. "a lot, I suppose. Mostly sleep, though."
Marx barked a quick laugh, "Don't we all!"
…
Was he trying to make friends? The warrior was confused, nervous under this spotlight of attention.
"You've got pink-eye again." Marx noted, leaning closer for a moment.
"What- oh." Did it have something to do with the warrior?
"We'll, you can sit down anywhere. We have time to kill." He tipped his head over to the nearest table, "They're gonna be perfectionists with the cookies again and I can't really help."
"Ahah, I see."
And perfectionists they were.
Kirby and Gooey watched from the sidelines as the two knights shuffled across the counters, turning the simple act of cooking pre-mixed dough into a competition. Meta was off to the side, filling that giant kettle with water and sitting it on his stovetop.
Three ovens, divided by counters, cabinets, and sinks lined the walls. Kirby noted that it was essentially three different kitchens thrown into one giant room. Everything besides the floor itself was set up in pairs. Meta worked with the arrangement farthest from the door, while Sword had the closest.
Gooey wobbled closer to him, murmuring happily in the boy's presence. The pair was back in the corner, farthest away from the clanging of pans and the whistling of kettles. They babbled together, throwing in dashes of proper language for spice.
They spoke of their time apart, their favorite foods and colors, anything that passed their shifting minds. Gooey had spit out a parasol at one point and twirled it around on his tongue, an action that was… not dignified, to say the least. Kirby found great humor in it though, giggling and kicking himself further into the corner.
Three different timers cried their alarms in unison, causing all but the three temporary chefs to flinch. Two trays of cookies were pulled out of two ovens, the kettle was shifted away from a glowing element. A third tin of biscuits was pulled from the pantry, spread over a third tray, and left on top of Sword's oven to warm up.
Kirby wasn't too sure of what two of the trays held, but Blade's tray had chocolate cookies!
"Sword, Blade, help me with these." Meta opened his cabinet and took down three different teapots. Each pot was left open briefly, only long enough to catch teaspoons of dried, dark leaves.
Whatever it was, it was ready!