I think I should explain something here…This story is mostly written during periods of artist block for my other ones. Gives me something to jog my writing spirit. Weeeell I won't be writing for a little bit because of issues that are going on in the real world, so that means this story will probably go largely un-updated for awhile. Hopefully I will still be able to pick it back up again, but if I can't then I will let you know. I may even give it away to anyone who wants to make sure it gets finished. With that, I give you one more chapter before my extended absence! Thank you guys for reading and reviewing and sending me your love! :)

Arthur sat on the couch feeling incredibly bored. He couldn't recall a single time when he had nothing to do. For the first half hour or so the angel watched television. After deciding there was nothing good to watch he flicked off the telly and explored the apartment a little. When there was nothing else to investigate, he sat back down on the couch and let out a huge sigh.

"How do mortals do it?" Arthur mumbled. He knew the life of humans was hard and strenuous but he didn't expect the waiting around to be the worst part. How did they cope with the curse of free time so well? Well…many humans had hobbies and interests. They would spend a lot of time doing crossword puzzles, reading, scrapbooking, and whatever else they felt like. But Arthur didn't have any hobbies other than his job. With his bow and arrows in the possession of his pupil, he was left with nothing to do.

"I guess I will just have to make a hobby for myself, then."

Francis was there for the first part of the day but left when he had errands to run. He asked Arthur if he would be okay by himself for a few hours while he was out and Arthur said he would now that he had some medication for his awful headache and was gradually feeling better. The angel was even getting the hang of balance and could move freely without being helped everywhere.

After a bit of thought, Arthur decided to go into the kitchen. He surveyed the countertops and pantry, the fridge, and the pots and pans. Yes, this is something he saw many people do for fun. Cooking. It was something the angel always found fascinating to watch time and time again. They put so much effort into creating tastes and concoctions that angels would never be able to try. Now that he required food, Arthur realized why they did it. Eating good things is delightful! So imagine what fun making them could bring.

He made a decision. He was going to fill his time and cook something, and when it came out golden brown and scrumptious he could give it to his host as a sort of thank you. Francis may be a tosser but Arthur was still a gentleman, after all.

000

Francis was back earlier than usual. It was mid afternoon when he parked his car and rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment, thinking back on the cause. For some reason, he hadn't really felt the need to be very social during any of his visits like he usually was. The pretty smile of the girl he passed on the street didn't bring about the typical schemes in his mind like it often would. He felt tired, so perhaps it was only that. However, his energy seemed to rise as he neared his apartment and fished out his keys. Perhaps all he needed was a nice relaxing day at home…with a pretty angel boy, of course.

"Arthur, I'm ho…" Francis trailed off when he opened his door and a certain smell hit him before he could hang up his coat. So much for a relaxing day at home. "Good heavens, what is THAT?"

Arthur popped in around the corner wearing an apron with a wooden spoon in one hand. He had bits of flour and other ingredients on his face and clinging to his hair. "Welcome home, I made some early dinner."

"Dinner?" Francis hurriedly took off his shoes and went to the kitchen where the rancid smell was coming from. When he arrived he nearly fainted at what he saw. His beautiful kitchen was littered with various containers (some half full, others now empty) and ingredients stuck to the cupboards like blood splatter at a murder scene. On the stove was a pot of…something…slowly bubbling and a glass dish that looked like it came from the oven. Inside was a big lump of what he could only describe as charcoal smoking and turning the air gray. It looked like WWIII.

"I worked hard on it," Arthur said with a smile. He honestly looked proud of the mess he made as if it were comparable to something that could be presented to the Queen of England. The man waited with his hands on his hips as Francis struggled to close his jaw and tried not to laugh, cry, or spontaneously combust. "It is a good thing you got back when you did. Now you can eat it hot and I don't have to reheat it."

"Uh…thank you…very much, Arthur…this is…"

"Nice? Thoughtful? Amazing?" Arthur tried to fill in the blank.

"…Surprising."

"Yeah, I guess it is. I have been watching humans cook for hundreds of years and I decided to give it a shot. How hard could it be? It looks like I might have a knack for it, if I do say so myself."

Francis didn't feel like he could say anything without insulting the man. Arthur was seriously proud of his abomination like a child and their first finger painting. And what do you do when a child happily says that a blob of green paint is you and waits for your opinion? You lie. "Um, right. It looks…wonderful. I am going to change out of these clothes and into something comfortable."

"Okay. I'll set the table."

"N-no, no need! I, uh, had a big lunch today."

"That's alright. You just have to take a bite and tell me how it tastes." There seemed to be no arguing with him.

The horrible smell as if a rodent died and was in the sun for days, then baked in an oven until it caught fire, was everywhere. Even in Francis's room. He opened the window and turned on a fan to start airing it out and leaned out to take a big gulp of fresh air. Leaving Arthur in his apartment alone for a few hours was a terrible idea! Now his kitchen was his own personal hell and Arthur was expecting him to eat whatever-it-was that he made. Was Arthur really an Angel of Death trying to kill him? Or maybe he was demon? Yes, that was it. Arthur was obviously a demon in disguise as a cute green-eyed blonde. That would explain a lot.

Francis took as much time as he could to get dressed. When he couldn't stall any longer without Arthur nagging him to come out already, he left the safety of his room and went into the dining room. True to his word, Arthur had set the table. A chunk of charcoal and a bowl of thick sludge waited for him on one side and a matching arrangement sat in front of the beaming angel.

"I think you'll like it. It has extra nutmeg and garlic butter."

"Ah…does it?"

"Yup. Now try it!" Arthur stared at Francis from across the table in excitement. He couldn't wait to see the look on Francis's face when he tasted Arthur's hard work. Sure it wasn't as pretty as the other things he's seen in restaurants and stores but he was sure that looks didn't matter.

Francis eyed the lump on his plate curiously. His fork poked it to find that although it looked burned beyond recognition, it was somehow squishy. "What do you call this…uh…dish?"

"This is a carrot pudding and in the bowl is fish stew. I found the recipes in a book on your shelf, but you didn't have all the ingredients so I improvised. Seriously, the stew called for an eel's head! That is utterly mad. I used liver instead." Francis had to concentrate on not gagging. "Hurry up and take a bite already, I worked very hard on this. You should be honored to eat something made by an angel."

The spongy 'carrot pudding' was hard to cut with a fork. Francis was eventually able to do it and lifted the tiny piece to his face where he gave it one good look even though he told himself not to. He made a tiny prayer before sucking in a big breath, and he took the plunge before Arthur's waiting emerald eyes.

"ACK!" Francis lurched the second it hit his tongue. It was all he could do to spit it out and run to the kitchen where he could get something to wash the horrid thing away. Arthur watched in shock when his carrot pudding was rejected.

"Francis? Hey, that was mean! What are you doing, spitting it out like that?"

Francis spared no time to speak before he could down a tall glass of water. "Because if I kept it in my mouth any longer I would have to amputate my tongue!" So much for letting him down gently. The carrot pudding tasted like a mix of rotten apples, way too much nutmeg, ash, and hot sauce blended together and turned into a squishy mass of…gosh, there were no words for it! It left a disgusting film on his tongue that tasted like pure death itself!

"WHAT? You ungrateful frog! How dare you!"

"No, how dare you try to poison me using my own kitchen! That was about as close to food as a pile of shit!"

Arthur scowled deeply. "My cooking is not sh…" his voice went out when he tried to swear and it only made him more irritated. "…that! You are just too picky. I slaved away making this and someone is going to eat it!"

"Alright, be my guest," Frances gestured to Arthur's plate and the angel looked down. "If you feel this meal deserves better than a hazmat team, then you eat it."

"Fine, I will! I at least know how to appreciate good food." Arthur sat down again and grumbled as he picked up his fork. He speared the carrot pudding lump and took a big bite out of it never letting his glare leave the other across the room. That is, until the glare became a wide-eyed look of revulsion.

Francis was going to laugh when he realized Arthur ran the risk of spitting all over his expensive dining room. He quickly drew another glass of water and gave it to Arthur just as he made it to the sink after spitting out the huge bite he stupidly took. He drank the whole thing in a few gulps and ran the tap so he could lean down drink more right from the faucet. Now Francis could laugh. The man burst into a fit while Arthur gargled and spit out small bits of black ick, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tried to get the awful taste out of his mouth.

"Wha-what the bloody heck happened? I didn't cook it to taste like that!"

"Of course you didn't! Honhonhon!"

"Then what went wrong? I put a bunch of really good things in it, why does it not taste like them?"

"You have never cooked before, have you?"

"No…but I see mortals do it all the time."

"Watching and doing are two very different things." Francis calmed himself down enough to pull out a bag of sugar from the pantry and pull out two spoons from the drawer. Arthur was beside himself and sticking his tongue out as if that would help keep the flavor away. "Here, this will make it a little better." He scooped up the white crystals and popped one of the spoons into Arthur's mouth. The angel froze for a moment before he realized the dreadful taste was suddenly being replaced by a powerfully sweet substance. He felt like he could almost melt to that taste.

"Mmmmm…thanks," he hummed around the spoon. Francis put a spoonful of sugar into his own mouth and nodded.

"You are welcome. Honestly, Arthur, I don't think I have ever tried something worse than that in my entire life."

"Me neither," the other sighed. He leaned up against the wall holding the spoon handle between his lips with one hand. Francis just now noticed he was looking rather crestfallen. "Bullocks. This is humiliating."

"Aw, cheer up," Francis pat him on the shoulder and joined him with his back against the wall. "It was your first time cooking. Everyone always messes up their first time somehow."

"I thought I could do it, though. You make it look so easy."

"I guess not even angels are perfect, huh? Don't worry about it. I appreciate the effort."

"Yeah, well…it wasn't just for you anyway, frog." Arthur turned away from his host trying to hide the bit or pink sneaking over his cheeks. The other simply chuckled, getting used to the odd behavior. That seemed to be his way of saying 'you're welcome.' For an angel he sure had a lot of pride.

"Well, it looks like my kitchen is trashed and most of my food is gone. This usually doesn't happen until Gil comes over. Shall we eat out instead?"

Arthur fiddled with the spoon he was sucking on for every last taste of sugar he could get. His eyes didn't meet the blue ones watching him when he mumbled, "Okay."

"Great. I know a nice little place not too far away…though we will have to do something about your attire." Francis gestured to Arthur's angel clothes and started thinking of anything that might fit the slimmer man from his wardrobe. Before he could offer anything, Arthur put his hand up to stop him.

"Say no more." With a wave of his hand, the white garbs and golden ribbon transformed before Francis's eyes. In place was a pair of nice black slacks and a modern brown vest over a white button up shirt. He adjusted the collar of the matching jacket that came with it and smirked at the surprised look on Francis's face. "What? Too formal or not enough?"

"No, uh…perfect." He shook his head and chuckled. "I will never get used to your magic, will I?"

000

Arthur followed Francis into his car and they drove onto main street. He said there was a wonderful place for great food he went to often and that the other would like it. When they arrived, Francis parked and they went inside the quaint building wedged between two shopping centers. It was deep blue with white trim and looked as if it were made to appear old. The moment the doors opened, Arthur was hit with a soft whoosh of warm air and delicious smells. Piano could be heard and the entrance was laced in green vines that sported small white morning glories. The delicate plant grew untamed along the creamy textured yellow walls as waiters and waitresses went back and forth from room to room with trays and drinks. The whole place had a warm feeling to it accented by the wine red carpet and lights hidden behind stained glass.

"What do you think?" Francis asked. Arthur looked around and had to agree on how charming the place was.

"Just the two of you?" A waitress asked kindly. She wore a black dress uniform that went to her knees and bright red lipstick.

"Oui," Francis answered. She bowed her head and led them through the hallway that felt much like they were walking through a garden. An elegant room with a high ceiling and a large fresco mural was their destination. There weren't many people around and the two were seated by a window overlooking a large rose bush. It wasn't blooming at this time of year but it was still very pretty.

The waitress set the menus down on the table and a man with a pitcher came around to fill their empty crystal glasses with ice water. "Bonsoir Monsieur Bonnefoy, it is a pleasure to have you this evening. Which wine will you be having tonight?"

"Merci, Mademoiselle Claire. Is Rhone available?"

"Oui. And for your…" she gave Arthur a quick look over, "…company?"

"I will have earl grey tea with some sugar, thank you my dear." He felt like he was being scrutinized.

"Very good. I will be back shortly to take your requests. Take all the time you need." The woman bowed her head again and gave Francis a nice smile. He returned it with one of his own before she left. Arthur watched her go, noticing how she was looking behind her slightly as she went. She appeared a little troubled.

"Do you know her?"

"Not personally. I come here often and she is usually my server," Francis replied and picked up his menu. Arthur did the same and scanned the many names and descriptions. From the corner of his eye he saw Claire peek around the corner at their table. Why was she watching them like that?

The food Artie made was inspired by a scene in Hogan's Heroes, where Corporal Newkirk is arguing about Corporal Lebeau's fish stew being a 'gourmet dish.' They act so much like Arthur and Francis, it's almost scary. Classic French vs English. Look up "Hogan's Heroes: Ruddy Fish Stew" on YouTube, you will get a laugh! :)