Arknights One Shots

Meal (SilverAsh x Matterhorn ft. Ceobe)

Clang.

Clang. Clang.

CRASH!

Matterhorn rushed to the kitchen, the sounds of calamity making him full out sprint. His thoughts ran as wild as the snowflakes did in the busiest of storms back home, the tightly closed pot in his hand sloshing with the delicious contents inside. Swinging the door open with his shoulder's brute force he took in the scene with dismay. It had been a few months since Ceobe had become an official operator of Rhodes Island, and during none of that time had her ravenous appetite decreased. So the scene he took in, no matter how frustrating, was to be expected. Ceobe was grinning up at him from the tiled floor like the holiday season come early. Sauce from marinade sprinkled the corners of her mouth and dripped down her chin. With its saucy trajectory it landed right on the remaining raw chicken. The plastic bag it all had been left in was torn to shreds. Out of Ceobe's eagerness or by accident it was hard to tell.

"Mister Matterhorn! Your chicken is so good! I don't know why you thought Mister SilverAsh wouldn't like it?"

The adorable head tilt she gave as she said that did little to disperse his ire, though the safe tea kettle on the stove nearby put him at better ease. Sighing, he snatched up the bag, careful of the chicken resting on top to inspect the damage. Pots and pans lay all strewn across the tile floor. A meticulous bag of still frozen broccoli sat in a lump in the corner. The grubby hand prints told him all he needed to know as to how it got there after being left on the countertop to thaw out.

"Ceobe, what did I tell you about eating frozen meat?"

That was as good of a place to start as any. He set the ruined bag down on the counter. Luckily there was more meat in the freezer, but there was no telling if there would be enough time to marinate it and prep it the way his boyfriend would like. Raised in a prestigious family, the young warlord was particular about his food like no one else he'd met. He supposed it had less to do with being picky however and more along the lines of how he was brought up. Not to mention Cliffheart. So many dietary restrictions for her because of Infection.

"Uh . . . That it's fun?"

He shook his head, stooping down to her level. Matterhorn took her chin in his hand, inspecting all the grime. "No. Not to eat it cause you'll get sick. Ugh, hope a little won't hurt you. Let's get you cleaned up for now."

"Okay!"

He helped the small dog girl back onto her feet, dusting off the front of her dress. After training each day Ceobe would slip into some casual clothes. He noted with some fondness that the sunflower patterned dress was something Vulcan had bought for at one of the many Lungmen malls. A few of the less sharp weapons stuck out of the pockets at the front. What looked like a harpoon was strung with a metallic loop to rest at her back.

"Stay still while I get a rag." It didn't take long for him to find one stacked in a cabinet. He wetted half of it under the faucet he flicked on before turning back to the little girl, glad to see she had listened this time around. Hands clasped behind her, Ceobe rocked on her feet back and forth. The grin she gave him was all sunshine and beaming.

"What are you oomph—"

The warm rag pressed against her cheeks, sopping up the russet sauce. "I know it's yucky, just bear with it okay?"

"Okaaayyyyy . . ."

He pet her reassuringly to soothe the wiggling around she was doing, making sure to get behind the pointed ears as he scrubbed away the filth. When he finally did toss the rag in sink Ceobe was clean again. The small rumbling sounds she made was all that was needed for him to know she was in the same peppy mood as ever.