Chapter Text
"This had better be worth it, Skull, because I skipped lunch to come here."
"I thought you might. Come in."
Skull holds the door open, and Vintage steps inside. He takes his shoes off and slips them next to Skull's by the door, and follows his friend through his house.
Vintage is in the gear he always wears, considering he's dropped by during his midday break from ranked after Skull practically begged him to. Skull, however, is in a random blue t-shirt he happens to own, one of his black pleated skirts, his usual bandana (around his shoulders instead of on his face), and rather noticeably, an apron.
“Why are you wearing this?” asks Vintage, tugging at the bottom of the apron. It’s a pale pink, with a comical ‘please do nothing to the cook’ message printed on the front.
“Because I’m cooking for us, obviously ,” states Skull as he skips back into the kitchen, and Vintage follows him in and sits on a stool in the corner. Skull reaches into one of the overhead cupboards and pulls out a green packet, which he sarcastically shakes in Vintage’s general direction. “…I hope you like noodles.”
Vintage scoffs. “You know I like noodles.” Scanning over the kitchen, he spots several bowls of already prepared ingredients sitting on the various countertops, as well as a huge wok over the stove. “Since when could you actually cook?”
Internally, Skull smirks. Good - he’s got Vintage intrigued. “Since Army gave me this” - he grabs a neatly folded piece of lined paper from the countertop and holds it up to Vintage - “recipe.”
Vintage raises an eyebrow. “So you invited me round to try your cooking?”
“Exactly.” Skull punctuates his sentences by waving around a wooden fork. “You’re a tough critic. If it passes the Vintage test, it’s good enough for me.”
That answer seems to satisfy Vintage, but it’s not strictly true. Skull’s pretty sure his ability to make this one type of noodles is already good enough, considering the fact that he’s made them every day for over a week to practice. He’s actually aiming to combine the noodles, meat and vegetables into a particularly tasty bribe.
Skull puts half of the bag of noodles in a pan at the back of the hob with some water and sets them to boil. He then puts a drop of oil in the wok and turns it up to full heat. “I guarantee that this will be like nothing you’ve ever tasted,” he boasts.
“I don’t think so,” says Vintage, unimpressed. “I’ve tried everything Inkopolis has to offer.”
Skull’s glad he’s facing the stove and not Vintage, because his smirk becomes much more visible. Vintage is falling right into his culinary trap, hook, line and sinker. “…We’ll see.”
Skull’s cooking actually doesn’t take too long. He takes some notes from his recipe, but he’s pretty much got it memorised by now. He throws the meat in first, along with a combination of herbs and spices, and a small dash of a couple of sauces. It all makes a loud sizzling noise in the hot oil, and Skull leans back a little away from it.
“You alright?” asks Vintage.
“Never better,” Skull responds, watching as the meat starts to cook and smelling the evolving flavours. Before he puts the vegetables in, he turns to his secret ingredient.
Hidden from view is a small bowl of chopped chillies. When he’d first made this dish, he’d used about half the recommended amount, and gradually incremented how much he’d use each time in an attempt to slowly build up his spice tolerance. However, he’d never quite reached his goal of doubling the recommended spice content entirely - until today, when he’d decided to jump straight to it. He’d suffer the consequences later, but he needed this lunch to be perfect if he was going to force something out of Vintage in return.
He adds in the ludicrous amount of chillies, then the vegetables, then a small amount of coconut milk, and stirs them with the wooden cooking fork. Turning the heat down for a moment, he drains the noodles and mixes them in with the rest of the contents of the wok.
“…Can you get two bowls out, Vin?” He asks, still mixing the last of it. Vintage responds by rummaging around in one of the cupboards and eagerly placing two blue ceramic bowls on the counter next to the stove.
“Thanks,” says Skull as he turns the heat off. He picks up the wok by one of its handles and splits the food between the two bowls. Vintage has already grabbed two pairs of chopsticks from one of the draws while Skull was busy, so he heads into the next room over where the table is and places a pair on either side. He sits himself directly opposite the doorway and watches as Skull follows him in with a bowl in each hand, and places one in front of his own place and one in front of Vintage.
“Lunch is served,” he says with a small dramatic flourish of his wrist. “…Do you want a drink?”
“No, thanks,” responds Vintage, picking up his chopsticks and grabbing a small mouthful of noodles and vegetables. He pauses before putting them in his mouth, watching as Skull hesitates around the kitchen door. He raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Skull stares him down briefly, and then averts his eyes and opens the fridge, and pours himself a glass of milk. He walks back to the table and sits down, and Vintage snorts as he spies the glass.
"Still can't handle your spice?" he teases.
Oh, he has NO idea how Skull's spice tolerance has improved. The milk is here as more of a safety net. "…I can handle it just fine, thank you. You" - he points at Vintage with his chopsticks - "are an exception."
"I'm powerful," retorts Vintage. "Nothing surprises me."
With that, he finally puts the food he's holding with his chopsticks in his mouth, and Skull watches with a smirk as his expression explodes. Vintage's eyes go wide and his jaw almost falls back open. It's not long before he's face down in the bowl, quick to shovel in another three bites. Cheeks still full, he looks up at Skull, who's slowly processing his own food, and taps the edge of his own bowl with his sticks to get the other's attention.
Vintage swallows his bite. "Where the shell did you get this recipe?"
Skull covers his mouth with the two sticks in his hand. "…I knew you'd like it."
"You have to tell me how you made this," says Vintage, not even bothering to finish swallowing. Every bite is a wonderful mix of sweet, sour, salty, and of course, spice, and he can't get enough of it. They're not the hottest noodles he's ever had, but they're certainly close, and they're so flavourful that it makes up for it anyway.
"Maybe I will," says Skull, eating another bite of his own and taking a small sip of his milk.
At that, Vintage stops eating, and narrows his eyes at Skull. "…Maybe? Why maybe?"
"Things like this don't come for free, Vin."
Right there, it all clicks. Why Skull was so insistent that he come over, why he called him over at lunchtime, why he made the noodles himself, why he'd been so damn cocky about it the whole ordeal. Vintage gives a 'Tch' and a sigh - nothing was ever easy with Skull, was it?
He puts his chopsticks down with a clatter. "Alright, Skull, what do you want?"
"…Who said I wanted anything?" replies Skull, continuing to eat like it was nothing. His smugness gets the better of him though when he chews on an unevenly cut piece of chilli and has to take a whole swig of his milk.
"You just said you want something from this. Spill it."
"Can't I just make lunch for my best friend?" Skull licks a piece of food from around his mouth and bats his eyelashes at Vintage with a sense of faux innocence, making the other stifle another laugh.
"Stop being silly."
"…Fine." Well, Skull was planning on asking about this anyway, he just didn't expect Vintage to pick up on it so quickly (although in retrospect, he totally should have: Vintage is a lot more observant than he is).
"I've been invited to some sort of awards evening, hosted by Emperor," explains Skull in between bites of food.
"That idiot?" Vintage gives Skull a curious look as he twirls noodles around his utensils. That doesn't sound like something that needs a bowl of noodles made for it. "Why get me involved?"
"That idiot, as you put it, is letting us bring plus ones," Skull continues with a smile. "I was hoping to invite you."
Vintage doesn't even look up from his bowl. "No way."
"No recipe for you then," comes the reply. Vintage snaps his head up at that and watches as Skull taunts him by slowly eating another mouthful of the special flavours.
Parties or evenings out or ANYTHING like that really weren't something he enjoyed, and he wasn't planning on changing his mind on such things, close friend or not. But Vintage did really, REALLY want that recipe. Nothing he'd ever tasted had quite combined flavours in this way before.
"Why do you need someone to come with you anyway?" asks Vintage. He's expecting some brief, sappy answer, but instead he watches as Skull pulls his phone out, plugs in the password, and makes several taps on the screen.
"…I was planning on wearing this." Skull turns the phone round and holds it across the table to Vintage. On the screen is a picture of an elegant, lolita-style dress made of smooth black velvet, accompanied by a fancy black hat and a pair of small black heels. "I was planning on asking Avi to come with me, but he's got a shift, so he wouldn't be able to show up until part way through…"
Suddenly everything clicks. The dress is mature, but unmistakably feminine, and Vintage realises Skull wants someone there with him when he first walks through the doors in it. Spying the way Skull nervously shifts his eyes as he tilts the phone to get a better angle, Vintage realises that it's more of a confidence issue than Skull bribing him into a pointless evening out. For that, he can tackle the issue differently.
"You wear skirts all the time, Skull." Vintage stops leaning over the table as the phone is put away. "What makes this any different?"
"I wear them at home, or with my team, or with the S4, and they've all known about them for a while…" Skull picks at his food in an attempt to find a mouthful with less chillies on than average. "This is different."
"Plus, it might be nice…" he continues. "Our schedules are awful. We really don't get to do enough things together…"
Vintage feels the heat rise to his face, but he blames it on the noodles. Skull's blushing too, a little bit, so it could totally just be the spice. Totally.
"Fair enough," says Vintage, sighing in defeat. "And you'll give me the recipe if I go?"
That response pulls another grin out of Skull. "You walk through that door with me and that recipe is yours."
The pair continue to eat in silence, Vintage marvelling at the way the flavours evolve over the cause of the dish, and Skull just about keeping his tongue from burning over through frequent sips of milk. Vintage finishes first, and restarts the conversation as Skull continues to eat.
"This might be a nice idea," he says, placing his chopsticks in his now empty bowl and somewhat enviously staring at Skull's. "I still have that suit I hardly wear."
"You should buy the shirt you showed to me the other day," responds Skull, slowly alternating between his noodles and his milk. "…I think it would look good."
Vintage does his best to ignore the way the compliment makes him feel by focusing on the suggestion. "I should. Especially since my wonderful sister decided to borrow my card last week." He punctuates the remark with a roll of his eyes.
"She did?" asks Skull. His pace with the noodles is noticeably slowing down, and realising the way Vintage is still eyeing his bowl, he redirects the mouthful he'd just picked up to Vintage's bowl instead.
"Not consensually, Skull." The shorter grabs his chopsticks again and scoops up the mouthful. He does his best to hold onto the handful of noodles and vegetables in his mouth, but it's only a small amount, considering the rate Skull's eating at, so he swallows it quickly. "I realised I must have left my card with her when I checked my bank account and found that someone had spent far too much at the Wahoo World gift shop."
Spotting how eagerly Vintage had eaten the small bite he'd dropped in his bowl, Skull takes a larger amount of food with his chopsticks and holds it across the table towards Vintage's mouth. "…Then you should 'borrow' her card and buy that red silk shirt," suggests Skull with a smirk.
Vintage leans forward and takes the bite with his eyes shut in an attempt to block out Skull's dumb expression. Once again, the sniper's suggestions are reasonable, and his actions are… annoyingly flustering. In an attempt to restore his pride, Vintage takes a mouthful directly from Skull's bowl, but the other moves the bowl even closer to him, indicating a desire to share what was left.
"I think I will," says Vintage as he picks at the last of Skull's lunch. They keep knocking their chopsticks against each other's, and they get into an elaborate stick war over the last piece of meat. Skull wins and snatches it with a grin, making Vintage grab the whole bowl from him and down the last of it in ten seconds flat.
"…I presume I'll see you there, then, Vin." Skull smiles as he watches Vintage wipe the last of the sauce from round his face - the noodles had fled into his mouth at such speed that they'd flicked sauce all the way up to his cheeks.
"I'll pick you up," corrects Vintage. "I don't trust you driving in heels."
"Is that better or worse than me driving in slippers?" asks Skull, referencing what had since become a bit of an inside joke for them.
Vintage snorts again. "You weren't even wearing slippers that time," he says with a smile.
Skull takes their now empty bowls, stacks them, and carries them into the kitchen. "I'll text you the times and address later." He peeks his head back around the kitchen door and catches Vintage idly staring at the décor. "…Do you have to go yet?"
Ah, yeah, Skull had pulled him out of a day of training. The noodles and conversation had been a wonderful distraction, although he would have to head off soon and get back to an afternoon of ranked matches. Not that he didn't want to play them, but he did find it a shame that he didn't get to spend more time with his friend.
Maybe that was the whole point of Skull inviting him, dress thing aside. After all, if Vintage wasn't able to make it, Skull could always dig something else out to wear in a pinch, or not go at all, but then again, he hadn't really believed Skull was the type to love events like this either. Maybe Aloha was rubbing off on him.
Vintage looks up at the clock on the wall and checks the time. Really, he could do with leaving now and getting back to his team early, but then he catches another glimpse of Skull pattering around his kitchen in his socks and apron, the midday sun beaming through the window and reflecting in the topknot on his head, and the angles of his cheekbones, and the point of his nose.
"I can stay a little longer."