Chapter 4 - Banned From the Kitchen

I only tried to help with the cooking! Plus, I'm surprised Tucker really seemed to care as to what was up with me. It's kinda nice having someone that cares. Or at least pretends to cares.

Washington struggled to situate the grocery bags on his arms, while holding the door open for Michael and Tucker. The plastic bags wouldn't stop slipping down his arms! When the two finally marched inside, Wash hip bumped the door closed, and rushed to the kitchen counter, releasing the bags. Goddamn, this is a lot of food! Wash stretched his arms out, watching the others put their handful of groceries on the counter.

Tucker yawned, and placed his and on his waist. “Well, Leonard should be home sometime soon. What should we plan for him to make?" He twisted towards the bags piled on the counters, digging through them. Michael crept up behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Lets see.. we got stuff for spaghetti, some hamburger stuff..."

"Oh! Oh!" Michael hopped in place, and waved his hand in the air. He dropped his arm down, once Tucker looked at him. "Lets have macaroni! It's a food, and an art. Best of both worlds!"

Wash sighed, rubbing his head. He walked over to the groceries, rummaging through them. "Are you really going to make Leonard cook, especially after a hard day of moving with Allison?"

"I bet that wasn't the only thing hard today. Bow chicka wow wow!" Tucker snickered, and raised his hands, awaiting someone to high five him. Rejection, they left him hanging. Wash groaned, and spun to face the groceries.

"If we cook now, then Leonard wouldn't have so much on his plate. Wouldn't it be nice for him to come over after a stressful day, and have food prepared? Besides, It’s already seven!" He asked, hoping they'd agree. They just stared him dead in the eye.

"Last time we cooked, we burnt waffles so bad, we could have killed a bird with them. They were that charred and hard." Tucker narrowed his eyes.

Caboose beamed, butting in. "We almost killed ourselves! The fire was intense." Washington rolled his eyes. He tugged out the spaghetti noodles, and a can of tomato sauce. Stuffing his hand in another bag, he pulled out a pound of hamburger.

"Fine. I'll cook."

There was one issue though. Wash didn't really know how to cook. More like he couldn't remember When he was younger, he recalled helping his mother cook food, even pasta before. But over the years, he forgot what the steps were. He examined the ingredients he choose. This was it, right? Was there a little more, to add flavor or something? Wash, with the noodles in his hand, turned to Tucker. “Where are the pots?” Tucker walked to the other side of the kitchen, and flung a lower cupboard open, showing the contents off like a showcase model. Wash headed over to him, pulling out a large pot, and looking at it. It looked a bit big for just noodles.

"Do you even know how to cook?” The dreadlocked boy cracked a smile, and hauled out a slightly smaller pot. Wash glared at him, and set the larger pot on the counter, yanking the pot away.

“Yeah, you can trust me!” He whirled on his heel, and clenched his teeth. Yet another lie! His stomach fell to the bottom of his feet, feeling almost guilty for lying. He was bound to f**k up this food. Though, he knew they’d refuse cook, so he had to. He just hoped he wouldn’t burn the house down in the process.

Washington, pot in hand, trekked over to the sink and twisted the faucet on. He filled the pot up about halfway before it was taken out of the water. He carried the it attentively over to the stove, switched a knob on, setting the pot on the front big burner. He tore the spaghetti package open, crunched the noodles in half and threw them in. Proud of doing so well so far, Wash looked at Tucker, hands placed on his waist. “See? So far so good.”

Tucker tried to hold in his laughter, but completely failed. “First off, you left the sink running.” He sauntered over to it, turning it off posthaste. He scurried next to Wash, turning the knob off.

“Hey! I’m TRYING to cook!” Wash butted in, trying to defend himself.

"Trying to cook what? That’s the oven knob, numbnuts!” He pointed to the words above the recently turned knob. He was right. Tucker twisted the correct knob, before turning his attention to Caboose. “You might wanna go sit down. Our generous friend here will probably blow up the kitchen at this rate.” Wash scoffed.

“I can do this myself.” He shoved Tucker a bit, and reached for the tomato sauce can.

Tucker took a step back, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, I’ll get outta your way so you can finish. But I’m keeping an eye on you. Gotta make sure you don’t kill yourself.” Wash was a bit flattered that Tucker cared enough to make sure he was okay. But he knew it didn’t mean anything. The water on the stove finally began boiling, and Wash examined the can, trying to recall how to open it. He could use a… a can opener! But he didn’t want to ask Tucker for more assistance. I don’t need help. I got this. I can always find my way outta a bind. Wash rubbed his chin with his free hand. What could he do? He had no clue where anything was in this kitchen. Wash grinned a bit, an idea for the perfect substitute popping in his head. He yanked out his hidden knife from his hoodie, and aimed it at the top of the can. He pushed the blade through the lid, but he had trouble cutting it through the rest.

Push as hard as he could? No. Try twisting the can? Nu-uh. Nothing he tried worked at all.

A hand grasped Wash’s stopping him from struggling with the can. Wash turned to see Tucker, a smile on his dark face. “Dude, seriously?” He nodded towards the can, before taking it from him. Wash, empty handed, stuffed the knife back in his pocket. A light tint spread on his freckled cheeks from embarrassment. He watched Tucker open a top drawer, grab a can opener, and crack the can open. Wash flinched at the sharp sound of the blade twisting through the can.

“I could have done that…” He whined when Tucker handed the can back to him. Wash snatched it, face a bit darker.

"Suuure.” He laughed. "You’ve demonstrated that to me soo well.” Wash grumbled, returning to the pasta pot. But, something seemed off. Water was dripping down the side of the oven. Wash eyed the flow to the top of the stove, and froze. The boiling water was overflowing in the pot! Panicking, Wash spotted a nearby washcloth, and began cleaning up the large puddle. He could hear Tucker behind him laughing hysterically.

A loud slam from the front door startled everyone. They all froze in place, attentioned turned to entrance of the house. Just Leonard. Leonard searched around, eyes narrowed. His eyes stopped, and glued to the stove. “What the hell?!” He stormed into the kitchen, face turning red with frustration. “ What. The. F**k!” He yanked the cloth away from Wash, and shoved him out of the way. Mopping up the rest of the water, he pulled a fitting lid from a nearby cabinet, and put it on the pot. Leonard’s face was as red as a tomato. “You two, shoo! Get out of my kitchen!”

Tucker and Wash scurried out of the kitchen, and sat on the couch in the living room, along with Michael. Michael grinned. “So, how did the cooking go, Wash?” Washington’s shoulders slumped as he turned his head away. Tucker nudged Michael, a smug smirk on his face.

“Leonard came home just in time to save him the embarrassment. We need to ban him from stepping into the kitchen!” He glanced at Wash’s shameful expression, and began cracking up.

Leonard fixed, and finished the meal Washington attempted to prepare. He called the three from the couch to sit at the table. Oven mitts and apron on, he brought the pots to the table. One full of spaghetti noodles, the other full of sauce and meatballs. He hurried back to the kitchen, and returned with parmesan cheese, and garlic bread. Leonard patted down his apron, slipped the mitts off, and sat down. “Now, lets make sure Washington doesn’t step a foot into my kitchen, and especially never attempts to cook again.”

"Don’t worry, I think I’m okay..” Wash rubbed his neck, looking to the side. He felt a bit bad. Wash really tried to make things easier for him. Not irritate him. That was so smooth. You could have burnt the house down..

Tucker shrugged a bit, smiling as he remembered the humorous scene in the kitchen. “We’ll make sure he stays away from the kitchen, but hey, ya gotta give him some props for trying. Especially when it seems like he can’t cook for s**t.” He glanced at Wash, his dimples and grin growing for a moment. “He did try to make things easier for everyone.”

Michael clapped, and shot Wash a thumbs up. “It’s okay Washington! My best friend understands that you tried, but failed, to be helpful.” Wash gave him a fake grin. Leonard huffed, and poured some noodles, along with sauce, on his plate.

"Yeah, yeah. All is well. Just stay away from my sanctuary.” Grabbing a piece of garlic bread, he passed the the two pots around. Everyone filled their plates, Michael serving himself last. His share of spaghetti and bread could have fed all three of them! All three of the original housemates ate like starving dogs. On the other hand, Wash had barely scarfed down three bites. He watched the others finish up, not touching another noodle on his plate.

Leonard walked around the table, gathering the clear plates. He stood behind Wash, one hand balancing the stack of plates, the other on his hip. "Hey Washington, you done?" He gestured to the full plate. Wash looked up, before quickly averting his eyes.

"Yeah.." Wash felt sick with fear. He expected Leonard to shout and lecture him, not only for the kitchen fiasco, but for wasting food. Thats how he was practically raised. He just couldn't find the will to finish. When Leonard moved his hand, Wash flinched, bracing for an expected smack, or hit of some sort. You've dealt with this before, you'll be fine.

Leonard's hand, however, continued moving, and gripped his plate. "Alright, I'll just mix it with the leftovers." He paused, and rose a brow once he noticed how tensed Wash was. He brushed it off, and trod into the kitchen.

I don't.. understand... Washington opened an eye, and saw Leonard was gone. Along with everyone else. He rushed to his feet, and into the living room. How awkward..

"Yo, Wash." Tucker strolled next to Wash, and threw his arm around his shoulders. “Since you’ve been wearing those clothes for… who knows how damn long..” He led him down the hall to the farthest door, and opened it. “I asked Leonard if you could borrow some of his pjs, and shirts, since you two seem like you’d wear similar sizes. Only for the time being.” He motioned to the dresser in the room. “He said his pajamas should be in the 2nd drawer down.” He twirled around to walk away, but stopped. “Oh, and give me your clothes, so we can clean them later.”

“Don’t take a f*****g century either, I need to sleep soon!” Leonard shouted from the kitchen, still mainly focused on cleaning the dishes. “I have to work way too damn early tomorrow!” Tucker waved Leonard’s words away.

"Just find something to sleep in. Don’t worry ‘bout him.” With his final thought, Tucker returned to the living room, shutting Wash in the room.

Washington sat awkwardly in the room for a moment, before promptly heading to the dresser. He pulled the 2nd drawer open, and grabbed the first bottoms and tops he found. Unfolding them, he began to disrobe, and inspected the pattern of the clothes. A light cobalt blue t-shirt, and simple grey sweats. He threw on the the selected clothes, but didn’t grab his previous outfit to leave. There was a large mirror above the dresser that reflected everything except his lower half. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the image staring back at him.

He’s got alot of scars for someone his age. What the hell’s wrong with him?

You look like a runaway from the insane asylum with a face like that, and all those marks on your arms.

I wouldn’t worry about Washington. In fact, he has the perfect weapon to use against his targets - his face!

Those voices from the past rung in his head. Voices of his captors, the others stuck there with him. Wash didn’t quite get it. Everyone there had scars. Sure, he had a few more, from being tardy, a bit disrespectful, and some other regretful things. Yeah, those words hurt, but he had to keep his hard hat on. Plus, not keeping a tough attitude in a place like could really screw with someone. Wash grabbed his head, trying to clear the voices from his mind. Working insufficiently, he snatched his dirty clothes, and stormed out of the room.

"Good, you found something that fits! Looks a bi-” Tucker started, releasing his dreadlocks from the ponytail. Though the impact of Wash’s dirty attire hitting his chest halted his thought. Tucker caught the wadded clothes, and narrowed his eyes at Wash, who continued down the hall, frustration washing over him.

"You’re done. Perfect, just in time.” Leonard finished drying the last dish. He put in the dishwasher, and drained the hot water in the sink. Taking off his apron, he trudged into his room, unintentionally slamming the door shut. Wash stomped over to the couch, and sat on the far end, away from Michael. He sighed and rubbed his face, head bowed.

Michael tilted his head. “Washington, are you okay? You seem tense.”

Wash crossed his legs, back facing him. “Yep. I’m perfect. Just peachy!” His voice was full of sarcasm. Michael, not realizing the sarcastic tone, nodded, his usual goofy grin plastered on his face.

“That’s good. Cause it always sucks to see people sad, and be s-” Tucker stood behind the couch, towering Michael. He pressed one hand on Michael’s shoulder, while the other rested on his hip.

"Ey, Michael. Why don’t ya get ready to sleep? It’s like eight thirty, nine-ish.” Michael hopped to his feet, and bounced down the hall, arms swinging at his side.

"Alright! Goodnight!” He waved at both of them, and headed into his room. Tucker waited for his door to shut before moving. He ambled around the couch, sitting down next to Wash.

"What’s got your panties in a wad?” He leaned forward, trying to look Wash in the eyes. Wash refused to turn and face him. He pivoted his torso even farther away. Tucker huffed, crossing his arms. “Oooh, the silent treatment. How threatening!” He rolled his eyes, looking back in his direction. “C’mon man. What’s up?”

Wash eventually gave in a bit, turning to face Tucker. “Fill me in. Why do you care?”

"Because I can. That’s what friends do, no matter how soon ya meet them.” He threw his arm around him, dragging him closer to fill the gap between them. “So, give me the details. Why you all fussy?”

Wash scrunched up his face, looking away. “I’m not being fussy. It doesn’t matter.”

Tucker groaned. “Um if it has you worked up, it obviously matters. Now stop stalling. Give it up, and tell me.” Wash’s eyes widened in surprise. Wow, he’s doing a good job pretending to give a damn. Unless, he really does..?

Wash rose his hands, exhaling. “Okay, okay. Fine. But I’m telling you, it's really ridiculous.” Tucker continued looking him in the eyes, waiting for him to continue. “Well, I usually wear my hoodie, to cover up my arms. This shirt doesn't have much sleeves, so I can easily notice the scars strung on my arm.” He could feel Tucker’s eyes staring at his nicked up arms, causing him to rub them defensively. “The scars remind me of being locked in that dreadful place, and everyone in it…” He paused, before continuing. “Almost all of the other kids there, and even the captors, loved pointing out that I had more scars than everyone else. They said I looked like someone from an insane asylum, or like an animal. It’s just… I hate being reminded that, well, they’re sorta right.” He chuckled, trying to keep an ‘upbeat’ attitude. Though, not being such a cheery guy, the act was clearly seen through.

Tucker laughed. “You’re right. That is a bit ridiculous. I mean, when I look at you, I don’t see someone from an insane asylum. The scars make you unique, give you character. They look pretty badass!” He gave him a reassuring, warm smile. Wash was shocked by the sudden compliment. His cheeks flushed bright pink. Tucker laughed even more, and patted Wash’s back, before rising to his feet. “Sorry, but with that color spread on your face, you definitely don’t look manly.” Tucker rounded around the couch, mumbling something under his breath. Wash tried making it out, but didn’t hear much.

Huh, If I didn’t know better, I’d say I heard something about ‘adorable’... Wash, too interested, just had to learn what was said. “What did you say?”

Tucker, already down the hall, laughed and shouted, “Don’t worry about it. It's not important. Goodnight!”

Author's Note

WOW AM I SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG.
I've just been busy, cause first, there was ComicCon, then there was finals at school. I promise updates should be decently consistent now!