thecapitol | crunch crunch crunch

Entry tags:

crunch crunch crunch

Who| Bro Strider and anyone in the kitchens
What| Bro makes delicious desserts
Where| The kitchens
When| Mid-evening, a couple of days after the crowning
Warnings/Notes|

Sometimes a man just needs to bake. Sure he could just buy cupcakes from somewhere, but that just doesn't compare to the deliciousness of making your own damn cupcakes. He isn't actually a chef by any stretch of the imagination, but after farting around long enough and mixing up an unholy combination of eggs and flour, he's pretty sure he's gotten down the basics of cupcakes. He has the batter and he has the cupcake tin, what more does he need?

As it turns out, and as he realizes after he's taken his cupcakes out of the oven (which are, surprisingly, not terrible looking, if a little dry and lumpy), you do need something more than just that. You need goddamn frosting.

"Shit." It's a frustrated sigh after scouring the kitchen to see if he can find any frosting at all- he can't.

It's only then that his eyes come to rest on the bag of doritos (or the Capitol equivalent at least) he'd bought along with the baking supplies earlier. He stares at it, contemplating it with the same intensity as someone who's deeply contemplating their life choices. Then he shrugs, because this is actually way better than frosting could be.

Bro tears open the bag of doritos, promptly dumping them on the kitchen counter, before he starts to aggressively bash them with his fist to break them up into little crumbs. He could just squeeze them all, but if people can tenderize their meat then he can tenderize his goddamn doritos, right?

The noises are quite loud, and anyone happening upon him will see him standing at the counter with his frosting free cupcakes and him pounding his doritos as if his life depends on it.

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Sometimes all you want is a snack to munch on and what you get is a bunch of weird noises. Meteor life was strange. This, however, is not the meteor, and the sound of a bunch of banging mixed with something crunching is not quite reassuring. When things proceed without some authority figure intervening, however, Karkat figures that maybe he should get a look at what the fuck is happening.

What's happening, it turns out, is Bro smashing those weird, cheesy Earth chips. On the counter, no less. It takes him a little longer to spot the cupcakes, but lumpy baked goods don't explain the chip massacre. He'd sooner guess them to be savory muffins than cupcakes with that set before him, but it still doesn't tell him much.

So he does the smart thing where people use their mouths and asks, "What the hell are you doing?"

He keeps himself a few steps back from the crime in progress, namely because he doesn't want dorito crumbs on his shirt.

Bro pauses for a moment and only a moment to look up at the sudden intruder in his kitchen. The second long staredown is immense and intimidating, surely- on Karkat's behalf, anyway. Bro doesn't break lineface. But then he goes right back to beating on his doritos.

"Baking," he says over the drum of his fist. "So either get the fuck out of Bro's kitchen or help me." He shoves a handful of the doritos across the counter in Karkat's direction before going baco to the thump, thump, thump of dorito crushing.

Karkat definitely holds the stare, eyes narrowed and almost accusatory, and doesn't break it until Bro does. Weirdass no good Strider beating on chips. He's making an absolute mess, and hell if he's going to be the one to--

"Oh, no, I am not joining your mistaken venture to commit atrocities against food and sapient creatures alike. Why are you trying to put crunch cheese garbage in your baking? And why like this? You're getting shit everywhere; you've probably lost half as much as you've pounded into the innocent counter top."

He scoots over a few steps and pokes, doubt written on his face, at the handful of doritos. "You realize this is not actually your kitchen? That other people are going to have to deal with this?"

Good lord, he's never met anyone who gets so offended at being offered the chance to participate in something. He's just standing there thinking Karkat could just fuckin' say no, but instead he gotta use all the damn words he's got in his vocabulary to do it. He leans his chin on his hand and feigns checking a watch he isn't wearing as he waits for Karkat to finish his rant, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

"Are you finished?" he asks, when Karkat finally stops talking. "You're so fuckin' tiny, I don't understand how you get enough air in your lungs to go on for so damn long. Christ." He picks up an uncrushed dorito and flicks it at Karkat's face. "Anyway, do I look like I give a flying fricklefrack whether or not this is my kitchen? I do what I want."

Karkat smacks the dorito out of air; it hits the floor and cracks against it.

"I will have exactly as much air in my alien aeration sacks as I please," he snaps, as if it's worth argument. "And I'll have you know there's at least one person here shorter than I am, and not my a small degree." He holds his hand out at roughly the height of one Samwise Gamgee. His face is very serious.

"Besides which, you're still making a mess. Did you never stop to consider some way of containing that shit? Or are you just going to sweep it all onto... whatever you're trying to make without a care for neatness or anything?"

It's not like Anna needs an excuse to go down to the main kitchens. She's already eaten anything worth eating in d4's kitchenette, and sometimes there are fresh-baked goodies down there, so that alone is incentive. She's not at all expecting to find Bro there, let alone to find him baking.

Or, well, he was baking. Now he's just...crushing things.

Anna leans against the doorway, arms crossing, a little smile on her mouth, and clears her throat to get his attention.

If it weren't for Bro's good hearing, he would probably not notice her. But he could probably hear a pin drop over a herd of elephants if he tried hard enough, so it's easy to hear her clear her throat. Or maybe he just has a girlfriend sense, kind of like spiderman but not quite located in his head.

"Oh, hey," he says, stopping the crushing momentarily to lean forward, resting his chin on his (dorito covered) hand in a charming manner. "I didn't see you there. Welcome to Bro's Kitchen."

Anna giggles when he finally notices her, stepping into the kitchen proper, wrinkling her nose at how he manages to be cute in the most unlikely ways sometimes. "Hi!" Her gaze wanders over the countertop, her eyebrows raising at the sight of the cupcakes. "Did...did you bake those?"

She comes closer, palms flat on the counter, staring at him with sudden intensity. "I hope you were planning on sharing."

His eyes move with hers as they land on the cupcakes, and he absentmindedly brushes off the dorito crumbs, because it would be rude to start banging in front of Anna. "Sure did," he says, placing a hand on his hips. "Bet you didn't know I was a fuckin' master chef, huh?" He isn't. He really, really isn't.

"I-" He stops, because it's Anna and of course he has to say yes. "I sure as shit was. But don't touch 'em. They ain't finished yet!"

"Uh-huh." She definitely doesn't believe him. But she's clearly succeeded at shaming him into agreeing to share, so Anna doesn't mind too much. "I can see that they're not finished, silly, there's no frosting." Her nose wrinkles. "What, um...were you planning on doing with the Doritos, anyway?"

She hops up to perch on the counter, inhaling deeply of the sweet scent of baked chocolatey goodness, legs swinging over the edge. "I hope you weren't going to put them on the cupcakes."

He thins his eyes at the mention of frosting, but she can't see because he's wearing his shades. But damn it, that's still a bit of a sore spot and he's bitter about forgetting the damn frosting. Still though, his new plan is obviously better than frosting ever could've been, so it hardly matters. He lets out a scoff when she asks that, about to reply, before she continues.

Welp.

"Of course I was," he says, a touch indignantly. "Why else would I crush up perfectly delicious doritos? These babies are my frosting."

Anna lets out a deep sigh. "Oh, no. That just won't do. You can't just have cupcakes with no frosting! That's like--like a summer with no sun! It's just wrong!"

She hops down from the counter, determined now. "I can't let you do this, I'm sorry. I'm going to make frosting and we are going to eat those cupcakes the right way." Anna marches toward the pantry, pulling out cocoa powder, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract. From the fridge, she pulls out butter and milk, and then rummages around in another cupboard for a big bowl, a measuring cup, and a whisk. "This could have been a fatal error, you know. You could have died."

Bro watches in exasperation as Anna sets about gathering the supplies necessary for frosting. His arms are folded over his chest and he's leaning against the counter, giving her a very intense really expression. Like, don't get him wrong- his girlfriend-princess is about to make him frosting. That's pretty great.

But he had his mouth set on cupcakes and doritos. It's hard to pull away from that.

"Really- died?" He lets out a snort, almost sounding... proud, as he continues, "You've been spending too much time around me, goddamn. I didn't think you could get so dramatic."

He moves in front of her, stopping her in her tracks as she moves. "Hold up, hold up- I did not crush those doritos for nothing. Do you know what it's like to have a craving? Because now I'm craving dorito cakes. Do you really wanna deprive me of this, babe?"

"Yes," Anna echoes solemnly, "died. This is very serious." She ignores his comment about her being so dramatic, but smiles with her back turned. She loves the way he gives her butterflies all too easily, even just with his teasing.

The princess doesn't realize that he's stepping in front of her until he does it, and she yelps, bumping into his chest face-first with an armful of mixing bowl. "Hey--okay, okay, calm down. Here's an idea: we'll make the frosting, and then maybe we can put your Doritos on top! Like sprinkles!" The more she thinks about it, the more she thinks it might actually taste pretty good, too. "I would never deprive you," she assures him, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before stepping around him to dump her bowl on the counter. "Now, pass me that cocoa powder."

It's funny how he can give her butterflies without even trying. Because believe him, he isn't even trying. He's completely and utterly serious about his cupcakes right now, okay! Ain't nobody got time for butterflies right now.

Except on some level, he can't help but think about how real fucking domestic this seems, like they're... a normal couple? What the fuck is that? In between murder arenas, they've managed to find a little niche where they can be happy. It almost feels surreal.

This time it isn't for cameras when his face scrunches up as her lips press a kiss to his cheek, and he lets out a sigh. "Oh, fine. Fine, fine, fine. We'll do it your way, princess." He sounds so exasperated, and as he moves over to grab the powder, he grumbles a little under his breath- something about coocoo, something about cocoa puffs, it's not really intelligible. "Here's your powder," he says, extending it her way before bringing his hand up to lick his palm. "Mmm."

Dorito powder is better than cocoa powder and he's got it all over his hands.

She's inordinately pleased that he gives into her little plan so easily--which is good, since she's used to getting what she wants. Anna takes the cocoa powder from him and measures it out into the bowl, before grabbing her stick of butter and dropping it in.

"You're gross," she informs him blithely as she starts to blend the two. Maybe that's what she likes about him. Who knows.

Bro watches her for a moment, absentmindedly continuing to lick his hand. If he isn't going to get his doritos now, he's gonna at least get the next best thing. But her statement has him pausing, his gaze moving from the mixing bowl to her face.

He contemplates for a moment, then visibly turns his head to look at his hand, then back to her, as if deliberating something. Then, he reaches out and runs the palm of his hand across her cheek. "Now you are too."

It takes her a moment, but when she realizes what he's done, Anna screeches, backing away. "Oh, you are even grosser than I thought," she sputters, but there's a laugh in her voice. She wipes at her cheek with the skirt of her dress, coming after him. "You're going to pay for that," she vows, launching herself at him.

Only on the way she decides that instead of attacking him, she wants to kiss him instead, and tangles her arms around his shoulders instead of a tickle attack like she'd originally intended.

"That's your own fault for not having higher expect-"

He stops as Anna finishes wiping at her cheek and starts to come at him. There are few things scarier than a woman looking for revenge, so he starts to back up. Only, it's not what he's expecting at all. Instead of whatever it is that she might've been doing, she's wrapping her shoulders around him and kissing him right on the mouth.

His arms wrap around her instinctively, moving down to hitch her legs up and around him so he can pick her up. He grunts against her lips, surprised in the most pleasant way. This is much better than revenge, this is definitely something he can get behind.

Bro turns, stepping towards the counter so that he can set her on it, melting against her as his hands slide up and down her back lazily.

It's easy for her to let him pull her close, and Anna's pleased that he seems to be pretty alright with the direction this took. She kisses him eagerly, enjoying the way his hands rub over her back. There are some definite positives to dating him, one of which is that she gets to kiss him whenever she wants.

She sighs against his lips, letting her legs tighten around his waist, exacting her revenge by kissing him until he can't breathe. That's punishment enough, right?

Yes. Yes, this is punishment enough. Hell, if he knew it would get him this he would probably wipe his slobber on her more often. Eventually his hands find her hair and he ends up messing up her braids, but he doesn't really care that much. He tries to kiss her as long as possible, but there are two reasons he can't.

One is air.

The other is because he doesn't want to get too into it and not want to stop.

So, he pulls away, breathless as can be, his cheeks flushed red and he steps away, leaving her to sit on the counter top. "Well that happened." His voice is a little amused.

Her braids are definitely all mussed up now, but Anna is far from minding. In fact, she doesn't notice much at all besides how good it feels to just give in and kiss him with no sign at all of stopping until he finally tears himself away.

She blinks, laughing, breathless, fingers pressed to her lips, and looks a little sheepish. "Yeah, it did," she replies, making herself summon something like a scolding tone. "Don't you ever do that again."

Gary couldn't care less about what Bro is doing with those doritos--they're more or less forfeit if they're crushed and out of the bag, by his standards. He's more concerned with grabbing one of those fresh-out-of-the-oven cupcakes abandoned to the side. They smell so nice, even without icing. Surely Bro is engrossed enough with his chip-smashing that he won't notice a few of them missing. Or the teenager creeping up from behind to snatch a couple. He's not very quiet, but Bro more than makes up for that, and besides, he's quick. This should be simple.

Oh, Gary, how you underestimate him. The man you're currently trying to steal cupcakes from is someone who considered himself a ninja. No- not even a ninja. The ninja to end all motherfuckin' ninjas. If you honestly think you're gonna swipe a cupcake off him, you're dead wrong.

Quick as lightning, a dorito encrusted hand shoots out and grabs Gary's wrist as the sound of banging cuts off abruptly. "I fuckin' know you ain't trying to jack my cupcakes, dude."

On a day outside the Capitol where his abilities weren't mysteriously suppressed, and maybe Gary would have been able to pull off some borderline motherfuckin' ninja moves himself. Here, he's a sitting duck, caught red--orange?--handed and frozen in surprise. A good excuse doesn't come to mind immediately, so instead Gary babbles until one happens.

"--Of course! Damn, who does that?" He offers a wide, sheepish grin. "Like, taking a whole cupcake, that would've been a dick move. No one's gonna miss a couple crumbs though. Or, like, a nibble. Just a little one. You know? I was gonna give it back."

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