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rahmiSky High fic~ I wrote it a while ago while I was looking up Cantonese food recipes so it has a lot of references to the cuisine. Because my Warren seems to have a Cantonese grandmother, I got nothing, guys. *hands*
Title: Every egg has a heart of gold (that's a lie)
Fandom: Sky High
Characters: Main gang, gen.
"Warren," Layla says. She draws out the end of his name exactly like his Mom used to do before she split; it makes nostalgia hit him fast and low in the stomach. "Seriously, do you have a bed at all? The answer to that better be yes, by the way, or I don't care how much you argue with me, this is not a home. I'll tell Mrs. Stronghold on you."
Warren waves one hand in her direction. "I have a bed," he mutters. He's kind of lying. He has a bed, sort of. He has a pile of blankets on the floor and that's been good enough for him for years, but something tells him it's just gonna make Layla look at him like he dumped weedkiller in the park.
A hand nudges into his hair, pulling it out of his eyes. Warren squints until he makes out Magenta's smirking face then closes his eyes again. He does not want to deal with this right now.
"Tough day, baby?" Magenta purrs.
He doesn't need to open his eyes to know Zach's flailing when he says, "Dude, dog, don't be hittin' on my girl!"
"Other way around," Warren mumbles into his arms.
He's sprawled on the floor for a reason. He was up all night cleaning up the mess some idiotic assholes had made of the Paper Lantern; Mrs. Luk had finally sent him home around dawn when all the neighbors crept out to help.
There's the sound of footsteps next to his head. They're either heading to his bedroom or the bathroom since his apartment is roughly the size of a stamp. He's not even sure how they're all in here, actually.
The footsteps pause in the hallway. "I don't know where you grew up," Ethan pipes up, "But around here? That is not a bed."
Layla makes a noise of triumph and bends over to smack him on the back of his shoulder. "I knew it. Why don't you have a bed?"
"Because I don't need one," Warren says.
"Big, bad Warren Peace doesn't need a bed," Magenta ribs. She sits against his side and plants both of her pointy elbows into his back until Warren props himself up enough to glare. "Did you hear that, Will? Real men don't have beds. They have blankets. On the floor."
"You guys should stop teasing him," Will says decisively before he ruins it by asking, "Hey, is this pomegranete juice?"
It's yangmei. It's gonna go bad in another couple of days, though, so Warren makes a grunting noise that he knows Will is going to take as a yes and goes back to trying to ignore Magenta poking cheerfully at his hair. It's obnoxious.
"How did you all get in?" he finally snaps.
There's a small, guilty pause. "I may have made a copy of your housekey," Ethan finally mumbles. "It was a for a good cause!"
"To annoy me?"
"No, idiot," Magenta says, "To check on you. Obviously, you can't be trusted to look after yourself."
"You don't even have a bed, dog," Zach chimes in.
"We're so going to have to fix that if you're staying here," Layla says. "Are these flowers supposed to be dead, by the way? I can bring them back if they aren't."
"They're drying," Warren says. The chrysanthemums on his windowsill had finally blossomed enough to dry them out.
"Oh, are you making tea?"
Warren wants to put his head in his hands and set the world on fire. He can hear his stupid cat making happy shredding noises somewhere and hopes absently that she's gotten the newspaper, not the books. He needs those for school. Eventually.
"That is so not a good look on you," Magenta says. "Hopelessness? So not hot."
"Ha ha," Warren says when there's an expectent pause.
"You're supposed to say, 'I'm always hot,'" Layla points out. "It's called joking with your friends. You should try it sometime."
"How about no," Warren says. He sits up instead, prodding Magenta away from him with one knee. "Go away," he tells them all.
"No can do," Zach says cheerfully. "You're gonna come out and watch a movie with us tonight, man. It's gonna be awesome. I'll even totally keep my amazing power under control so nobody gets blinded in the theater."
"You do that," Magenta says dryly.
There's the distinctive sound of someone pulling open the fridge and then Will's cheerfully yelling, "I'm gonna eat some of these eggs, War, I'm starving. Hero work is hard work!"
Warren thinks about warning him, but he's in a shitty mood and he's pretty sure Will's reaction is gonna be worth losing a few century eggs. Or salted duck eggs. Or quail eggs. He can't really remember what he's got right now. Mrs. Luk came by with a bunch of food a couple nights ago, clucking and calling him her quiet boy and barging past his arm to leave neat stacks of actual Cantonese food in his refrigerator before patting him on the cheek and telling him he was a silly monkey butt for not having a wife yet.
He's pretty sure she doesn't know his Cantonese is as good as it is. His grandma used to call him her silly monkey boy, though, so he doesn't mind all that much. Plus, she gives him food he doesn't have to cook. That's always awesome.
Anyway, whatever it is he's found, Will's not gonna like it. Will does not do Cantonese food.
Unless he's found the tea eggs. Then Warren's going to have to haul his ass off the floor and fight him for them. He hates making tea eggs. They never taste the same as his grandmother's did and his mom refuses to talk to him long enough to send the damn recipe.
The sudden strong waft of sulfur and ammonia answers that question. Warren snickers into his hand when Will makes a strangled noise in the kitchen.
"Did you just laugh?" Ethan asks faintly.
"Dude," Will says, leaning over the counter with one hand holding the egg as far from his body as possible and the other pinching his nose shut. "Did you know you have rotten eggs in your fridge?"
Warren laughs again. He can't help it. He waves at Will, says, "Give it here," when he can breathe without wheezing. Layla's got one hand on his head, scratching at his hair like he's the cat or something, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up to tak the century egg from Will and pop it into his mouth.
He doesn't usually eat them by themselves, but Will's face and the hacking noise Magenta's making more than makes up for the eye watering taste of it.
"I am not flying you to a hospital when you get food poisoning," Will finally says.
Warren grins around his mouthful of brown and green egg and has to snort into his hand when Ethan sinks into a puddle immediately. They're not that gross, he's pretty sure. He'd had some of Mrs. Nguyen fetal duck eggs in the fridge last week.
Those would have probably sent Layla heaving.
"It's traditional cooking," Warren says. He sucks on his teeth to get at all the yolk. "Not something you're gonna find at the Paper Lantern."
Will's face takes on this green hint that sort of hilarious all by itself. "See," he says, "Layla, there's totally a reason I don't like Chinese food. They eat... those."
"Not in America they don't," Warren snorts. He scrubs a hand down his face and doesn't say anything when Zach takes that as permission to grab his arm and try to haul him to his feet. Not gonna happen.
He's pretty sure Layla has moved on to braiding his hair at this point. As long as she doesn't twist it all up into one of those girlie swept back looks, he doesn't really care, but Ethan is poking around in the pile of books by his door and Magenta is starting to get the look that means she's thinking about chewing through all his cords just to be obnoxious.
Tell me again why I have friends, Warren thinks to himself.
The cat chooses that moment to divebomb his knee from behind. He sighs, nudges it away with one bare foot, and shakes Layla's hands out of his hair so he can stand. "What movie are we going to go see?"
Title: Every egg has a heart of gold (that's a lie)
Fandom: Sky High
Characters: Main gang, gen.
"Warren," Layla says. She draws out the end of his name exactly like his Mom used to do before she split; it makes nostalgia hit him fast and low in the stomach. "Seriously, do you have a bed at all? The answer to that better be yes, by the way, or I don't care how much you argue with me, this is not a home. I'll tell Mrs. Stronghold on you."
Warren waves one hand in her direction. "I have a bed," he mutters. He's kind of lying. He has a bed, sort of. He has a pile of blankets on the floor and that's been good enough for him for years, but something tells him it's just gonna make Layla look at him like he dumped weedkiller in the park.
A hand nudges into his hair, pulling it out of his eyes. Warren squints until he makes out Magenta's smirking face then closes his eyes again. He does not want to deal with this right now.
"Tough day, baby?" Magenta purrs.
He doesn't need to open his eyes to know Zach's flailing when he says, "Dude, dog, don't be hittin' on my girl!"
"Other way around," Warren mumbles into his arms.
He's sprawled on the floor for a reason. He was up all night cleaning up the mess some idiotic assholes had made of the Paper Lantern; Mrs. Luk had finally sent him home around dawn when all the neighbors crept out to help.
There's the sound of footsteps next to his head. They're either heading to his bedroom or the bathroom since his apartment is roughly the size of a stamp. He's not even sure how they're all in here, actually.
The footsteps pause in the hallway. "I don't know where you grew up," Ethan pipes up, "But around here? That is not a bed."
Layla makes a noise of triumph and bends over to smack him on the back of his shoulder. "I knew it. Why don't you have a bed?"
"Because I don't need one," Warren says.
"Big, bad Warren Peace doesn't need a bed," Magenta ribs. She sits against his side and plants both of her pointy elbows into his back until Warren props himself up enough to glare. "Did you hear that, Will? Real men don't have beds. They have blankets. On the floor."
"You guys should stop teasing him," Will says decisively before he ruins it by asking, "Hey, is this pomegranete juice?"
It's yangmei. It's gonna go bad in another couple of days, though, so Warren makes a grunting noise that he knows Will is going to take as a yes and goes back to trying to ignore Magenta poking cheerfully at his hair. It's obnoxious.
"How did you all get in?" he finally snaps.
There's a small, guilty pause. "I may have made a copy of your housekey," Ethan finally mumbles. "It was a for a good cause!"
"To annoy me?"
"No, idiot," Magenta says, "To check on you. Obviously, you can't be trusted to look after yourself."
"You don't even have a bed, dog," Zach chimes in.
"We're so going to have to fix that if you're staying here," Layla says. "Are these flowers supposed to be dead, by the way? I can bring them back if they aren't."
"They're drying," Warren says. The chrysanthemums on his windowsill had finally blossomed enough to dry them out.
"Oh, are you making tea?"
Warren wants to put his head in his hands and set the world on fire. He can hear his stupid cat making happy shredding noises somewhere and hopes absently that she's gotten the newspaper, not the books. He needs those for school. Eventually.
"That is so not a good look on you," Magenta says. "Hopelessness? So not hot."
"Ha ha," Warren says when there's an expectent pause.
"You're supposed to say, 'I'm always hot,'" Layla points out. "It's called joking with your friends. You should try it sometime."
"How about no," Warren says. He sits up instead, prodding Magenta away from him with one knee. "Go away," he tells them all.
"No can do," Zach says cheerfully. "You're gonna come out and watch a movie with us tonight, man. It's gonna be awesome. I'll even totally keep my amazing power under control so nobody gets blinded in the theater."
"You do that," Magenta says dryly.
There's the distinctive sound of someone pulling open the fridge and then Will's cheerfully yelling, "I'm gonna eat some of these eggs, War, I'm starving. Hero work is hard work!"
Warren thinks about warning him, but he's in a shitty mood and he's pretty sure Will's reaction is gonna be worth losing a few century eggs. Or salted duck eggs. Or quail eggs. He can't really remember what he's got right now. Mrs. Luk came by with a bunch of food a couple nights ago, clucking and calling him her quiet boy and barging past his arm to leave neat stacks of actual Cantonese food in his refrigerator before patting him on the cheek and telling him he was a silly monkey butt for not having a wife yet.
He's pretty sure she doesn't know his Cantonese is as good as it is. His grandma used to call him her silly monkey boy, though, so he doesn't mind all that much. Plus, she gives him food he doesn't have to cook. That's always awesome.
Anyway, whatever it is he's found, Will's not gonna like it. Will does not do Cantonese food.
Unless he's found the tea eggs. Then Warren's going to have to haul his ass off the floor and fight him for them. He hates making tea eggs. They never taste the same as his grandmother's did and his mom refuses to talk to him long enough to send the damn recipe.
The sudden strong waft of sulfur and ammonia answers that question. Warren snickers into his hand when Will makes a strangled noise in the kitchen.
"Did you just laugh?" Ethan asks faintly.
"Dude," Will says, leaning over the counter with one hand holding the egg as far from his body as possible and the other pinching his nose shut. "Did you know you have rotten eggs in your fridge?"
Warren laughs again. He can't help it. He waves at Will, says, "Give it here," when he can breathe without wheezing. Layla's got one hand on his head, scratching at his hair like he's the cat or something, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up to tak the century egg from Will and pop it into his mouth.
He doesn't usually eat them by themselves, but Will's face and the hacking noise Magenta's making more than makes up for the eye watering taste of it.
"I am not flying you to a hospital when you get food poisoning," Will finally says.
Warren grins around his mouthful of brown and green egg and has to snort into his hand when Ethan sinks into a puddle immediately. They're not that gross, he's pretty sure. He'd had some of Mrs. Nguyen fetal duck eggs in the fridge last week.
Those would have probably sent Layla heaving.
"It's traditional cooking," Warren says. He sucks on his teeth to get at all the yolk. "Not something you're gonna find at the Paper Lantern."
Will's face takes on this green hint that sort of hilarious all by itself. "See," he says, "Layla, there's totally a reason I don't like Chinese food. They eat... those."
"Not in America they don't," Warren snorts. He scrubs a hand down his face and doesn't say anything when Zach takes that as permission to grab his arm and try to haul him to his feet. Not gonna happen.
He's pretty sure Layla has moved on to braiding his hair at this point. As long as she doesn't twist it all up into one of those girlie swept back looks, he doesn't really care, but Ethan is poking around in the pile of books by his door and Magenta is starting to get the look that means she's thinking about chewing through all his cords just to be obnoxious.
Tell me again why I have friends, Warren thinks to himself.
The cat chooses that moment to divebomb his knee from behind. He sighs, nudges it away with one bare foot, and shakes Layla's hands out of his hair so he can stand. "What movie are we going to go see?"
