𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘- original characters

𝐒𝐈𝐗

"𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆?" Margot demanded. Whilst she was busy busting her ass, cooking up a soup recipe that her mother used to make, Nathanial sat on her kitchen counter and emptied all the food in her pantry. He seemed to be in a somewhat better mood this morning than last night, which Margot took as a good thing. Especially since he'd heard news from Sebastian that Celia was starting to come to, and that she was expected to make a full recovery. It was the news that everyone needed to hear. 

"Of course not," he replied, lips turned up into a smirk. "I'm going to sit here and look pretty, of course."

"So, in other words, you plan on doing nothing," she deadpanned. She turned the stove on and stirred the contents inside periodically, checking her pantry, curious if she had enough stuff to make cookies to bring to the hospital. Surely there was no such thing as too much food, right? Isn't that what you did when people were in the hospital; bring them food? That was what Margot used to do for her mother, at least. It was what she knew best. "Would you even let me do anything if I offered to help?" He raised an eyebrow, and Margot pondered his question for a moment. She wasn't entirely sure that she trusted him with a stove, let alone any sort of hot pan. He was a liability. 

"Point taken," she admitted. She reached for a dish rag on the counter and tossed it at him. "That doesn't mean you can't help me dry these dishes."

"Yes, Sarge," he replied with a salute, dutifully stepping off of her counter and drying the dishes as she handed them to him. The soup was nearly ready, and all Margot had to do was make the cookies she'd wanted, which was easy enough. She knew the recipe by heart by now, and gathered all of the ingredients from her fridge and her pantry. Chocolate chip cookies were fairly difficult to mess up, but Margot found herself struggling to concentrate with Nathan hovering directly behind her, his front pressed against her back. He extended his arm out and scooped up a bit of the raw cookie dough and brought it up to his mouth. When he reached in for a second scoop, Margot slapped his hand away. "Don't you dare," she warned. Nate rolled his eyes and went to reach for the chocolate chips on the counter instead, but Margot swiped them before he could empty the bag and leave her with nothing. "Go sit at the table and don't interfere. If you're a good boy, I'll let you clean the bowl."

"Why are you talking to me like I'm a dog?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Margot crossed her arms over her chest, challenging him. She knew how to pull his strings almost as well as he knew hers. It was fairly easy to get him to listen to her when she wanted to. Nathanial Clairmont was easily controlled, especially when it came with the promise of food afterwards. "Do you want to clean the bowl or not?" She questioned, watching as he mumbled something under his breath and sat on the counter again, away from her. By the time the oven was finished pre-heating, Margot had already scooped the dough into perfectly even balls, and slid them into the oven. Then, she handed the empty bowl to Nathanial and let him eat the remaining excess dough on the sides. 

She refrained from telling him that it wasn't safe to eat raw dough, but she doubted he'd listen to her if she said that. He was stubborn as the rest of his family. It must have been in the Clairmont genes. 

"I know you told me not to interfere, but it looks like your soup is boiling over," he turned his head toward the stove and licked his finger, letting his legs dangle freely over the edge of her counter. Margot cursed under her breath and turned around, quickly removing the soup from the heat, and turned her stove off before she managed to make a mess. "Where did you learn how to make this anyways?"

"My mother," Margot said quietly, trying her best not to let the tension in her shoulders show. Thankfully, Nate was so preoccupied with the leftover cookie dough that he hadn't noticed. She didn't like to talk about her mother very much, because even after all these years, the loss still hurt her. She'd died when Margot was ten years old, but the pain of it never quite went away.