Hi-llo

I'm back!

David's doing some renovating today in preparation for the arrival of his friends. Wes is a ninja with cooking utensils in more ways than one ;) and is proving himself to be a pretty evil when he wants to be.

Enjoy,

Bree Z Claire

Wes bit into his apple turnover, wincing against the bells and whistles going off in his head telling him to spit out the hot lava of fruit, cinnamon, and sugar. It was perfect though, a fluffy pastry with just the right amount of seasonings and torbinado sugar sprinkled on top. He let a hum slip from his lips and relaxed into the soft leather armchair.

Oh.

He reached out for his iPod, sitting on a nearby table, and slipped the small earbuds into his ears, turning up the music before resuming with another bite of pastry. Closing his eyes, Wes phased out the world with a deep sigh, loosing himself in the apple scented air around him.

~ oOo ~

David raised an arm to wipe his brow, frowning at the miniscule dent he'd made in his wall. He decided to discard the sledge hammer and switch to something a little more heavy duty.

It was hard work, he thought, renovating before his friends came back. He'd promised them though; new bedrooms and a sunroom facing east for Kurt. Nick and Jeff wanted underground rooms with a manhole tunnel to the nearby mountain range for explosives testing (thankfully they were bringing their own C4 this time so David didn't need to drag Wes along for another errand).

He was finished with most of the work already, making small checks here and there on his mental to-do list as he made his way through the chores, and now all that remained was their new round-table room – like King Arthur and his knights! Wes had rolled his eyes at the thought but David thought it was pure brilliance. So while the spiky haired Asian walked away, muttering about someone's sanity, David just blinked. Despite it all, he was content that he and his beloved were on speaking terms once again.

After letting Wes have free roam of the entire house and giving him a tour, David thought everything would be hunky-dory. But then Wes wanted to go outside – "I have no clothes David! I can't just go walking about stark naked." "You don't know unless you try…" "Shut up, David." — so David took him shopping only to find out all Wes wanted was to scream out and run to the police the first chance he got.

Thank goodness for tasers and tranquilizer guns.

Wes hadn't talked to him for a whole two weeks after that. He locked himself away in the East Wing with all the kitchen equipment and bamboo patio chairs – it was a couple hundred feet drop from that level so no chance of runaways there. He'd stolen David's iPod and taken it with him too, so David had to find some other way to keep entertained during hours of construction. The only good thing that came with the two-week long silent treatment was that Wes would be safely out of the way in case something blew up because David wasn't paying attention to his wiring, and when he checked the surveillance cameras, his beloved seemed to be content where he was.

There were a few downsides though, most of which pertaining to the evils of Wes hoarding all his delicious cooking. The others minor evils included sleeping arrangements.

Since the East Wing held most of the bedrooms and lounging areas, David had been forced to sleep on the couch in the basement, which wouldn't have been so bad if his supercomputer hadn't been on the fritz and kept asking him to play chess over and over again. Thankfully he'd finished all the East Wing construction –including his and Wes' master bedroom! — before being banished.

At the end of two weeks, and after a bit of groveling, Wes baked him cookies while lecturing him about the importance of space and fresh air or something. David sat there with wide eyes, shoving cookie after cookie into his mouth, nodding at the right moments and dunking his sweets into a glass of milk. He didn't exactly remember all of what Wes had told him, but the cookies sure were yummy.

He was jackhammering away when he caught a whiff of apples. Baked apples. With cinnamon. And sugar. And maybe a dash of vanilla.

"Food!" He dashed out of the room, turning back halfway to shut off the angry machine, and down the large double stairway straight to the opposite foyer. He followed his nose all the way to the third-floor kitchen and stopped short. An empty baking sheet, still warm and smelling of apple goodness, mocked him from the marble countertop. He pouted, where was the apple goodness?

He sniffed the air and found himself being drawn to the next room over where a number of couches surrounded a large plasma screen TV. The walls here were replaced by large windows and gave a view of rolling hills and a river in the far distance. David could just make out the tips of spiky hair that poked above an armchair facing the outside. He stalked closer, still trying to get a handle on his salivary glands that were reluctant to shut off since his mind had registered the idea of food.

He leaned over the armchair and smiled. Wes always looked so peaceful in his sleep, face free from worry and anger, and though he always thought Wes looked particularly graceful in his rage, sleeping-Wes was a whole lot quieter. He rested his head on the back of the armchair, soaking in the scent of apples and the sight of beloved.

Okay, enough of that, it's apple time! David took a deep breath as he snatched a pillow from a nearby couch; switching the plate of apple turnover with a pillow would require all his cunning followed by all his speed because Wes would wake up moments later in all his glorious rage. It was like outsmarting a booby trap like the ones in those Indiana Jones movies. The boy leaned down and gave the plate an experimental tug. When Wes' breathing remained steady and deep, he slowly slipped the pillow under the plate and…

…got stabbed by a fork.

"Oww! Gah! Son of a—"

"You think I'd actually fall for that again after last time? Seriously, David, and you call yourself a mastermind."

Said mastermind was currently licking his left hand. "I just wanted your apple turnover. Just a bite?"

"That's what you said before you ate my last batch. All of it!" Wes popped the rest of the dessert into his mouth and David suppressed a whimper. The cruelty! He felt a twinge in his heart that was just as much out of love as it was out of heartbreak. Wes really could be evil when he wanted to be. They'd already had the conversation regarding Wes' transition into David's gang of evil doers… but his beloved had cut him off at the legs before David could even finish the sentence.

Wes glared at him – a warning if David ever saw one – and the only reason he wasn't already shoving David out of the room was because he was so comfortable in his armchair. David backed away slowly before bolting from the room. He didn't stop running till he reached the safety of the West Wing. Maybe if he finished renovations like a good evil mastermind, Wes would bake him a reward.

No.

Correction:

Maybe if he was lucky, Wes wouldn't eat him alive for a) disturbing his sleep and b) attempting to take his food.

~ oOo ~

"Are you still sulking?" David jumped from where he was tucking in the last chair of the new round table; it was the center piece of the large room so of course it needed the finest chairs money could buy. Wes was standing by the door, hands on his hips.

"I am not!" Wes shot him a look. "I'm…brooding in a manly manner."

"Uh huh."

"Hamlet did it!"

"And look where that got him. A man who thinks too much and acts too late can't be of any proper use."

"That's why they call it a tragedy!"

"David, the only tragedy here is your neglect of battle wounds."

The boy walked around the table and David noticed the first-aid kit he held in his hands. He pulled up a chair and invited David to do the same as he opened the box and took out some gauze.

"It's not my fault you're vicious with utensils," David wanted to mutter, but then Wes had taken his hand and suddenly his voice was gone.

Wes worked in silence wrapping the bandage around his hand, over the back of palm and between each finger, with practiced ease. David gulped. With every touch he struggled to keep his breath calm and steady, but whenever his beloved ran a thumb over his palm, or every time his fingers grace his wrist, David felt a jolt of electricity beneath his skin. If only you knew what you do to me…

Wes finished up the job with a small strip of tape, tearing it with his teeth, before standing and packing up. "There."

"Um. T-thanks." David rubbed his hand, feeling an ache over the lost of warmth from the boy's touch. He looked up after a moment, hoping his cheeks didn't look as red as they felt. Wes was walking around the room, running a hand along the table as he walked towards the large towering entranceway.

"It's nice. The room, I mean."

"Yeah?" He perked up.

"Better than that interrogation room you built for Thad."

"Speaking of which, Thad said he might be bringing a guest with him."

"A guest guest or a…guest-who-shall-not-be-named guest?" Wes frowned after a moment's thought. "You know what, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

David giggled. He sometimes forgot how fragile his beloved could be. Certainly after some time with the boys he'd get a better handle on things. He made another mental note to ask Nick and Jeff to bring Wes along with them on one of their demolitions and maybe have Kurt bring him shopping next time. Kurt always had a knack for the black market anyways and could probably handle Wes better than David could…probably with more grace too (i.e. no tasers or tranquilizers needed).

"But you like the room?" He knew Wes would be impressed by his wicked awesome table-making skills. He knew it!

"Yeah, sure, it reminds me of those conference rooms my dad use to bring me to, said it'd be good practice for when I take over the company." He gazed up at the large dome-like skylight and down around the room where lanterns hung from the walls, their warm glow relaxed him. "Do the walls have to be black?"

"It's the Evil Round Table, Wes, of course it does!"

"Wouldn't a nice maroon match the table better?"

David gasped, "Wes, evil masterminds do not concern themselves with colour confidential room designs, it's all about –"

"The evilness of your deeds and the cruelty of the octanitrocubane when it goes boom," Wes droned. "Blah blah blah. Honestly David, why can't you be more normal and rob a bank or something?"

"Do you want to go a bank? If it'll make you happy we can go right now!" David bounced on his heels, already out of the door.

"Wait! No! D-David, I didn't actually mean—"

~ oOo ~

David was already tumbling down the grand stairway; pulling on gloves that Wes always thought came out of nowhere ("One must always be wary of leaving fingerprints, Wes."). He ran after him, taking the steps two at a time as he yelled out, "David!" He followed him into the garage which was, just like other every room in the mansion, enormous.

"Banking hours are closed right now which makes everything so much easier." David was already leaping into the car; he'd built it himself, Wes had found out one day when he was exploring. It had all the fancy gadgets of the Batmobile with all the subtlety of James bond's Aston Martin. "But banks are child's play anyways so it won't take long, plus we can pick up some take-out afterwards. I'm kinda feeling Thai tonight, what about you?"

Wes skidding to a stop, planting himself squarely in the way of the death machine, "David, you blew up the bank already!"

"Oh," the boy fiddled with his keys. "Well, there are always other banks around. C'mon get it!"

"What? No!"

"Well…okay…just wait here then, I'll be back after a few errands."

"Do I look like I was born yesterday, David? You and I both know you're up to no good when you talk about 'running errands'."

Last time Wes had woken up in the middle of the night to find the boy gearing up his motorcycle. He'd told Wes to go back to sleep, saying he was going out to run a few errands and Wes complied only because it was two in the morning and his brain had punched out after midnight.

Later that afternoon, Wes flipped on the TV to find out that not only had a half dozen tanks been commandeered under the US military's noses, but their passengers were taking a rather thrilling joyride straight towards the White House! Wes on the phone in a blink, dialing David's cell to find out just where the hell he'd gone, and receive a very cheeky reply:

"I took a road trip with a couple friends; do you want me to pick up some milk on the way back?"

"David, what are you doing?"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific, love."

"Are you driving down New York Avenue in a stolen US military vehicle currently on route to the White House?" He shrieked.

"…maybe."

"Get. Your. Ass. Back. Home!"

"But I haven't driven a tank in a whole year, Wes!" The boy wailed. "A whole year! How often do you get a drive a tank down the road to visit the President?"

"I'm going to drive a tank over you if you don't get back here this instant!"

"Spoil sport…"

The tanks had turned around after that –thank heavens— and Wes had to grip a nearby chair for balance to keep from passing out. David came back the next day looking quite sullen but Wes didn't give a tiny rat's ass. He sat the boy down and let all hell run loose. David looked a bit pale face afterwards, but promised not to do anything like that again until running things by Wes first. Wes baked him cheesecake after that, hoping the sugar crash would be enough to keep the destructive teen homebound for the next while.

David was pouting at him now. "Do not."

"Get back inside."

"But I've been stuck inside all day doing renovations!" He threw up his arms, "I deserve a reward don't I?"

Wes frowned; letting David out in the world in his destructo-moblie was never a good idea. Think, Wes, think…

"That's right, David." He stood up straight and walked around the car, gliding his hand along the smooth metal with a smirk. He knew David was watching him as he walked past the car and back inside, leaning against the doorframe. He made sure to keep his voice sweet and sultry when he spoke again, "You've been working so hard all day. Surely you must be exhausted."

"Well…"

"Why don't you come inside and I'll draw you up a nice relaxing bath?" David's eyes widened and Wes could practically hear the gears turning. He kept going, making sure to put the emphasis on the right words. "We could sit by the TV afterwards…together…order some delivery and watch a few movies…together…and maybe you could show the new master bedroom after that? You made that room just for us didn't you?"

David was out the car and up three flights of stairs in two seconds flat.

~ oOo ~

And THAT, my darlings, is how you tame an evil mastermind.

Prompts are welcome :)