Random OneShots

Phsyco killer

By: Gues on Ao3

Steddie

~~~~

"So am I gonna be expected to cook something during one of these get-togethers?"

Steve raised a brow, making a sort of confused hum as he grabbed a large container of flour from his pantry, setting it down on the counter before coming back to look through the spices.

"I'm just saying– last week, Nancy stole your kitchen away from you and made those mini pizzas, Jonathan stole your kitchen the week before, even Robin cooked that one week– if... boxed spaghetti counts as cooking."

"Debatable." He grabbed a few small containers, then set them all down in a row beside the flour. "And no, you don't have to cook next week. I don't know what it is with people using my shit but usually it is me who makes food whenever the demons stop by for a visit."

"My my what an affectionate way to refer to them." Eddie snorted and hopped up to sit on the counter, only to absentmindedly be tugged off as Steve grabbed various other items from around the room. "So... former Hawkins High king has a secret cooking hobby, what's up with that?"

"Are you here to bother me or to help?"

"Bother you, obviously." He hopped up again, getting tugged down almost as quickly as he'd managed it, his spot on the counter being replaced by a bowl of soaked chicken Steve took from the fridge. "You did prep work? Dude, who even are you?"

He rolled his eyes and made the silent decision not to grace him with a response, as though ignoring him would force the man to listen to his inevitable boredom and leave, and he did. Except, he came back with a small stereo and a bag of cassettes.

"Well!" He slammed the thing down on the only bit of empty counter space he could find, far enough away from whatever Steve was working on he didn't have the excuse to shove it off. "Since you're stuck in this general area for the foreseeable future... I do believe it is time for your musical education."

"If you're gonna stay here you're putting on a damn apron and helping me."

"Wh–" He snickered, catching the one Steve tossed his way as he used his other hand to put in the first tape. "Dude... you look like such a mom. "

"Yea, well, I'm working with hot oil and flour and I just so happen to like this shirt."

"Fair." He shrugged and pressed play, hopping on the counter a third time, after he'd tied the apron on. "Throwin you right in the deep end– Sabbath Bloody Sabbath."

"I'm assuming this is the guy who bit the bat?"

"Hey, you remembered that!"

"How could I forget? I can still taste it."

Another laugh, long and loud, fading into a soft hum along to the song. "They've got a nice breakdown here at the beginning, that sorta melodic finger-picking style."

"He sounds whiney."

"That's the style , dude." He started bobbing his head again, once the breakdown interrupted itself with loud guitars. "So, what's that you're making?"

"Breading."

"Huh. Wait– is this fried chicken?"

"Yup." He said, popping the p and dropping two pieces of chicken into the plastic bag. "I had a guy propose to me last time I made it."

Eddie whistled. "My my, building it up, aren't we? Who was it?"

"Tommy H." He said simply, about startling Eddie off the counter with how suddenly and violently he shook the bag of flour. " Extremely homophobic, yet somehow willing to forget that fact for the sake of honey barbeque."