[ he’s so bad at seasoning. mom has explained it and written it down more times than lawmakers. it always comes out wrong. but eren’s poor kitchen prowess aside, don’t touch the inside of his palm. it’s wet. he’s a smooth criminal though, and wipes it on his pants before he pushes elliot in. leave no drooling evidence behind.
which is difficult to hide further with such an open book eren is, sliding into his seat in front of elliot and giving his side a clap. ]
I’m gonna eat it all.
[ he’s joking. sort of. obviously. not. maybe. he smiles, though, look at the half funny he made. here’s the big thing— elliot cooked everything up. he made the best dinner eren couldn’ve imagined. he’d try and heat up more apple strudel if you let him, or stick some sausages in the microwave. the cook deserved the first and best plate, so lifting a bit off his seat, eren holds his hand out to take elliot’s plate, going for a lovely ball of spaghetti to start. ]
[ meanwhile, across like five different threads everyone else is going you’re a jerk eren. the contrast is intense. his publicly rare but docile smile shines bright when complimented, ears sounding (coloring?) off with ease, feeling like he had been given a dozen at once, and that those were the only words that really mattered. who cares about the rest, not him. ]
You’re the one who made it, [ it was obvious he’d serve him first. there goes the pasta, and the chicken, and two generously placed pieces of garlic bread. once that’s set, he’ll go onto his. ] so you’re doing the honors.
[Yeah well none of those people are here right now so Elliot don't give a crap. He's aware Eren can be not...the easiest to get along with, but whatever he's always good to him.]
Hehe. [He'll take the plate with a thank you, being polite enough to wait for Eren to get served before digging in] I told you it's fine. I like cooking, and you're letting me stay here anyway.
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which is difficult to hide further with such an open book eren is, sliding into his seat in front of elliot and giving his side a clap. ]
I’m gonna eat it all.
[ he’s joking. sort of. obviously. not. maybe. he smiles, though, look at the half funny he made. here’s the big thing— elliot cooked everything up. he made the best dinner eren couldn’ve imagined. he’d try and heat up more apple strudel if you let him, or stick some sausages in the microwave. the cook deserved the first and best plate, so lifting a bit off his seat, eren holds his hand out to take elliot’s plate, going for a lovely ball of spaghetti to start. ]
You first.
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Haha, just leave me a couple pieces and you can eat all you'd like.
[Since seriously, Elliot's appetite isn't that big. But he'll hand over his plate, with a big smile on his face]
Aw, you're such a gentleman.
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You’re the one who made it, [ it was obvious he’d serve him first. there goes the pasta, and the chicken, and two generously placed pieces of garlic bread. once that’s set, he’ll go onto his. ] so you’re doing the honors.
no subject
Hehe. [He'll take the plate with a thank you, being polite enough to wait for Eren to get served before digging in] I told you it's fine. I like cooking, and you're letting me stay here anyway.