Chapter 14-

"Hey, Peace. You're looking sullen as usual."

…

"...Well, fine."

"I'm warning you, Peace, don't touch my fries."

…

"So, you're actually not going to take any?"

"Okay, seriously, what's your deal?"

"Fine. I don't care. I don't want to talk to you anyway."

Emm slammed the mixing bowl on the counter. No, she wasn't angry that Peace had failed to address a single word or look in her direction. Why would she be? She didn't care.

She pulled the utensil drawer open roughly, the silverware jangling inside. Elijah smiled at her from the kitchen doorway. "A little angry?"

Emm gave him a look. "I'm not angry, I don't have anything to be angry about." She was careful to close the drawer more softly.

Just as the last time the seniors had been partnered up their little blue booklets demanded that they dine at their partner's homes on Friday. Emm had to admit she was looking forward to it this time around much more than the last (even though the last had turned out to be not so bad).

Mr. and Mrs. Garwin were out of state at the opening of an art gallery (Elijah repeatedly cursed the history exam which kept him from going) and wouldn't be home till morning, but Emm figured she'd simply invite Logan over for dinner another day as well. Of course, it meant that Emm was left to cook dinner on her own.

Unlike Emm, who would eat just about anything tossed her way, Elijah has a tendency to be more choosy. Some days he simply didn't want to eat lasagna; like today. He'd no doubt end up eating it for breakfast. So, while Emm popped her lasagna in the over Elijah had called out to the Paper Lantern for take away.

This had only helped remind Emm that the ass better known as Warren Peace had given her the silent treatment all day. She made a face at nothing while she continued to set up her baking materials.

When the doorbell rang she set down the measuring cups and shouted for Elijah before hearing the shower. Usually it took longer for their orders to arrive. Then again, Paul had probably hurrieda himself up knowing the Garwin's tended to tip well.

She was not expecting to see Warren Peace at her door with her order.

The easy smile on her face was immediately soured. If he wasn't going to talk to her, she wasn't going to talk to him. So, they were just going to stand there and stare at each other in her doorway.

"You know, most people take the order or say hello."

Emm raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. "Oh, so you're talking to me now? Color me flattered."

He thrust the bag into her chest and moved past her, leaving Emm gaping at his back. "Okay! That's cool! Just ignore me all day then let yourself into my house. I'm not tipping you!"

It was as easy as that. Emm continued to make faces at him while he explained that Paul had been out sick and he'd taken over for his last order and he made faces at the mess that was currently her kitchen. At least if her parents had been home her mother could have taken over entertaining him.

Peace pulled a stool over from the corner of the kitchen and watched her sift flour with a critical eye. Something clearly displeased him and, while she wasn't sure what it was, she was doing all she could to make sure it continued. Finally he seemed fed up and marched over to where she stood, snatching the measuring spoon she'd been using to pour vanilla extract from her hand.

"Hey!"

"You don't have to be so exact, Garwin. Use just a little less vanilla."

She took the spoon back from him forcefully. "The recipe says a full teaspoon." Emm had told him before; she could cook anything with a recipe. She also followed that recipe to the letter.

"You don't need that much. Trust me. You've got to just feel it out." With one step to the left he bumped her out of the way and closed the cookbook she'd propped up.

Emm gaped at him. The nerve.

"Come on, Garwin, you experiment all the time."

"Yeah, but no one has to eat my experiments." She ignored the look he gave her out of the corner of his eye.

"Right, they just blow up instead. Much better."

"One explosion and the world never lets you live it down."

"Except for that one last year."

"Oh, come on, that was nothing. Just a minor fire. No one even noticed until it was done."

"And sophomore year when you killed all the single celled organisms in school?"

"I'm sorry," She gave him a flat look, "Did you have some single celled friends? If I'd know I would have sent flowers."

By the time Emm had conceded to letting him help her (more like take over) the baking process, he was nearly done. He had, however, decided to go without the store bought frosting she'd bought and insisted she make her own. Emm figured it was just another chance for him to show off.

Considering how nervous he'd been the first time around at her house he was unusually at ease now. And maybe a small part of her was alright with that.

He wiped his egg-y hands on his jeans and Emm made a face. So OCD about his room and house but an absolute mess with his clothing. She rolled her eyes and crossed the kitchen to the apron drawer.

Quickly tucking the monkey wrench she found into her apron pocket, so as to avoid another talk on not leaving wrenches in the apron drawer, she picked one out for him. She'd pulled out her father's specially made "Kiss the mad scientist" apron first before quickly and decidedly putting it right back and choosing instead her mother's checkered blue one. She was sure Peace wouldn't mind the frills too much.

He seemed entirely concentrated on the task at hand and she had to physically turn him away for the counter before he stopped whisking the eggs he'd cracked. Ignoring the look he gave her she slipped the apron over his head.

"You have egg all over your pants."

He rolled his eyes at her but tied the strings at the back without further comment.

"Come here, finish beating this."

Emm stared warily at the bowl he'd moved her in front of. It looked nothing like butter cream. This was mostly due to the obvious lack of butter.

He seemed to read her mind and shoved the powered beater into her hands anyway. "It's just egg whites and sugar, Garwin. It's good, trust me." He'd been asking her to trust him a lot today. She was clearly being poisoned.

"What's the deal with you and Jacobsen? Both of them."

Emm shrugged and flinched when she pulled the beater out too far and splattered them both with bits of egg white. "Just don't like them. No actual deal."

"Right, except Ayers seems to think there is. And what is the deal with Ayers too?"

Emm paused the beater to focus all her attention on raising her eyebrow at him. "Um, he's my partner."

"I was your partner."

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry. Do you want a hug? I could play with your hair."

"Don't touch."

"Okay, so what? You think there's something not entirely partnery going on between me and Logan?"

Emm had to laugh and set the beater back onto the counter. "Oh my god, no. That's just how our friendship is. Quickly built and kind of touchy. Logan actually has a thing for... I can't actually tell you that." He'd only just told her his little secret and she planned on keeping it.

"If you say so."

"Jealous?"

"I'd sooner be jealous of a rotting cat on the side of the road."

She chucked a handful of flour in his face. The look of shock on his face left her doubled over with laughter. She received her own faceful of flour a moment later.

And thus began a food fight the likes of which the Garwin household had never seen before. Even counting that one unfortunate Thanksgiving affair in which her twin baby cousins had discovered their telekinesis. At some point Elijah came downstairs and quickly made off with his dinner, receiving a splatter of flour on the back of his shirt for the trouble.

Interestingly enough, by the end of it, Emm's sides ached from her uncontrollable laughter and she could have sworn she'd heard Peace laugh as well, though she may have imagined it.

They ended sitting on the floor opposite each other, leaning against the counters. Emm couldn't look at him without falling into another fit of giggles (there was still egg dripping from his hair). He shook his head at her but she could clearly see the smile on his face.

"You know, if you smiled more often people would think you're less of an ass. I would know the truth, but you could fool some of them."

The doorbell interrupted any reply he might have made.

Garwin stood suddenly, only slightly slipping on the flour covered floor. "Logan! Crap, I forgot all about him." She looked down at herself then glared at him, completely forgetting that she had started it.

Warren shook his head and rolled his eyes (he really had been spending too much time with her) before pointing out of the kitchen. "Go get changed, I'll get the door."

She was up the stairs in a flash, shouting a thank you behind her. Warren was clearly too nice of a guy. He should have let her deal with it, especially after the egg she'd cracked open on his head. And, thinking of it, how did she even get high enough to do that?

Ayers looked fairly surprised when he answered the door, though Warren couldn't be sure if it was because he was answering the door, or his appearance, or both. He played it off nicely.

"Hey, Peace, looking good."

Warren just stared at him while he let him through.

Elijah peeked his head out over the stairs. "Hey, Logan. Emmy will be right now. She's just leaving a trail of flour everywhere."

Warren winced at the idea but Ayers seemed to take it in stride.

Elijah's head disappeared for a second and then popped back into view. "Oh, and thanks for the food, Warren."

He nodded but clarified that Paul had been sick to keep Elijah from getting any ideas like Layla had.

Ayers stood rather awkwardly in the Garwin living room much like Warren had. Clearly he didn't share Garwin's ability to simply take over a room. "So, I wasn't expecting you here. You have dinner with us?" Before Warren could answer he cut him off again. "Isn't it funny, how much time you two spend together now after years of just fighting?"

Clearly the hippie was contagious.

Warren was apparently not meant to get a word in as, as he opened his mouth to inform Ayers that he didn't find it funny at all, Garwin came bounding down the stairs.

She'd changed into a pair of jeans and a yellow t-shirt but her hair remained covered in flour. Ayers didn't seem to mind while he hugged her.

"Hey, sorry about this." She smiled sheepishly and led him to the couch. "The lasagna won't be ready for a little while longer either."

Peace disappeared off into the kitchen, most likely to remove his flour-y apron and Emm tried her hardest to ignore her hair. Logan periodically picking at it was not helping.

"I really like what you've done with it, buttercup." She smacked his hand away and glared at him. "I didn't know Peace would be here. That's cool, you know. I'll pretend he's your dad or something."

Emm made a face and rolled her eyes. "That's silly. He was dropping off Elijah's Chinese order and decided I needed help cooking. And then we had a food fight."

"I see that." Logan was clearly very amused by the whole affair.

A thought struck Emm when she realized Peace had yet to return. "Are you cleaning my kitchen?"

When he made no answer she stood and stalked over to the kitchen doorway. "You OCD little maniac. Stop that. You'll rearrange everything and I won't ever be able to find my wrenches again."

"Wrenches don't belong in the kitchen." He shouted back at her.

"I'll decide where the Garwin family wrenches belong, thank you very much. And they belong in the Garwin family kitchen."

"Wrenches don't belong in any kitchen."

Logan, for his part, seemed to enjoy their every interaction that night so much he insisted Peace stay and eat with them (Emm would have suggested the same thing in the end anyway). The night somehow ended with everyone, Elijah included, on Emm's twin bed arguing the merits of the Beatles' acid years.