DoomPet

Chapter 10

A week passed with them in each other's company. They talked and shared stories and even occasionally leaned against each other while watching TV. With much pressure from Vega the Slayer had stopped his crusade, momentarily. The AI demanded he rest and take time to spend with his friends, for when he left he'd be going to Nekravol the city of the damned and he would not return until the Titan was ravaged by his sword.

Vega did catch Doomguy late one night trying to figure out how to wire the portal together to take him into Nekravol. He joked and managed to talk the man down from messing with it anymore but he didn't dare admit he was only a single step away from hot wiring the portal. That man wasn't an insane hulking beast, he was clever far beyond what he looked, Samuel was right.

After a week of being roommates, or fortressmates perhaps, the two were getting along nicely. Daisy was also being just as loud and loving as ever.

This particular morning the Slayer had promised to make the demon pancakes...

The Slayer smiled up at him, the squint of his smiling eyes through the helmet was all that gave away his emotions. He grabbed the marauder and dragged him to the kitchen, setting him down at the table. He paused for a moment. The words for cooking evaded him so he drew a little sketch of a stick figure wearing a chef hat making pancakes.

The marauder grinned and looked excited, "Oh this will be delicious! I didn't know you cooked! Wait... you can cook, right?"

He happily shook his head "NO" and began mixing a cheap bag of pancake mix with water. The last time he had actually cooked was for his battalion back in the UAC from his universe. They all got food poisoning and were out for a week. So no he couldn't cook, but he could try!

The demon was wary at first but soon succumbed to the all powerful scent of the doughy mixture being cooked on a skillet. It took all his will power not to run up and shove one of the pancakes in his mouth right off the stove. Luckily, it only took a few minutes for them to cook. It wasn't like the usual scents of a hell feast. Those were mostly the smell of butchered slabs of meat that were either raw, rotten, or cooked. This was light and fluffy; it smelled like candy, or something so fragile and so distinctly human he struggled to name it.

The Slayer attempted to impress his dear roommate by flipping the pancake with a spatula. He dug the spatula underneath the frying dough and sent it hurling upwards, firmly sticking it to the ceiling.

Both of them stared at the half-baked splattered dough that once had dreams of becoming a pancake and began howling with laughter. Daisy leaped up onto the table out of nowhere, stood on her back legs, and began lapping up the delicious ceiling pancake.

The marauder whined as his stomach growled loudly. "Come on, I'm starving, dammit!"

He chuckled and shifted from side to side while he finished up the cooking. This time he didn't go crazy with the flipping and successfully landed a few pancakes.

"Excellent!" The marauder's mouth was watering over the delicious food hand cooked by the Slayer himself. Whether it was well cooked, or even vaguely edible, remained to be seen.

He set a plate stacked with pancakes in front of the hungry beast, but before he could dig in the Slayer offered him butter and syrup in a little glass container.

"Oooh what are these?" The marauder pulled the tub of butter closer to him with a clawed finger.

The Slayer grabbed a butter knife and motioned how to put the butter on the pancakes.

"And that?" He pointed at the syrup.

The Slayer held up a note, 'Makes them taste sweet.'

He carefully put both on his pancakes, asking a plethora of questions about how much to put on, if he should put butter on the sides, and why the syrup was so sticky. "These pancakes are a lot of work."