Food

The scent of cooking filled the air, the sound of meticulous chopping and stirring fittingly accompanied. Sarah could feel the drool forming in her mouth, and actively made sure to keep her lips shut tight, so as not to let it flow out. She had been purposefully kept in the dark as to what was being cooked, or what was being used as ingredients, so she didn't know what she was in store for but good lord did it smell good. She could only help that the taste would match the heavenly scent.

"How much longer are you two going to keep me waiting?" she shouted out to the cooks in the kitchen. "I'm starving out here, and the smells from the kitchen are driving me crazy!"

"You can't rush perfection!" one of the voices came back to her.

Sarah sighed. Michael always was one for exaggeration. "Perfection," she scoffed to herself. "Like those two idiots could ever manage perfection." She rested her face in her hands and waited for them to finish. They had been bragging for ages that they were learning to cook so the could rub it in her face. She always used to be the one who had to cook when they were together, because she was the only one who knew how. Supposedly they had started taking lessons, with the intent of being able to cook better than she could. "They can use all the fancy ingredients they want," she told herself. "But it still won't taste good if they don't actually know how to make it." Still, she couldn't deny just how good it did smell.

Another ten minutes passed before the kitchen doors slammed open, and out came Michael with a covered dish in his hands, followed by Ian, carrying the drinks. "Bon appetit," they declared proudly in unison, laying their deliveries on the table before her. Sarah looked up at them, one eyebrow raised, before she moved back to the plates and slowly pulled the cover off to see what they had made.

She was shocked to find a finely cooked steak and ricotta gnocchi sitting in front of her, decorated with bay leaves, with a side of bruschetta. She looked up at the boys, who said nothing but smiled and urged her to eat. Slowly, reluctantly, she picked up her fork and began to eat. She tried her best to keep her face flat, but the food was incredible. It tasted as though it had come from some gourmet restaurant. She could already see the grins of self satisfaction on the boys' faces.

After a few bites, she put the fork down and sat back in her chair, looking at them. They grinned widely, but said nothing, waiting for her response. "I don't believe you cooked this," she finally said. "Where did you order this from to try and trick me?"

"Don't you pull that on us!" Ian cried out. "We worked hard to learn to make this! This is all our work!"

"We slaved over it!" Michael added. "It was cooked with our own blood, sweat and tears!"

Sarah watched the two's faces, but she could tell they weren't lying. "...Fine," she conceded after a while. "It's truly fantastic." The grins once more donned the boys' faces. "What else have you learned to cook?"

"About that..." Michael said, rubbing the back of his head.

"We worked hard to learn to make this one dish," Ian explained.

Sarah sighed. "Idiots."