Hatchetfield.

(Not That Kind of) Festival of Lights

"Stand back!" Ethan crept towards the stove, holding up a pot lid like a shield. The frying pan, which had once contained a batch of latkes, now contained a rather large grease fire. It spat out a spatter of white-hot oil onto his leather jacket (good thing he never took it off, huh?), and Ethan leaped back, cursing under his breath. "I have this totally under control!"

"This is what you call totally under control?" Lex shouted over the screaming fire alarm. "The pan is on fire, Ethan!"

"It's a very controlled fire, though! Not spreadin' or anything!" As if on cue, the flames leaped up, leaving a long, gray scorch mark on the wall behind the stove. "Shit."

"Oh, we are so not getting our deposit back," Lex groaned. She paced around the kitchen, running her hands anxiously through her hair.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay babe," Ethan said. Lex wasn't sure if he was saying it to her or to himself. He stepped cautiously towards the burning pan, slowly extending the lid before suddenly shoving it down onto the flames, covering them completely. "Aha! See, I told you I had it handled!"

"No!" Lex leaped forward, pulling the lid off. Fire plumed up again.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Ethan shouted.

"Because you were— you were pushing the oxygen down on the fire, dumbass! Mr. Houston told me about this—" Lex placed the edge of the lid on the lip of the pan, then slowly slid it over the fire. She waited a few seconds, then pulled it off. This time, all that came out was a plume of thick, oily smoke. No flames. "There. It chokes it out, or something."

"Whoa," Ethan said. He turned to Lex, stars in his eyes. "Babe, you're like, so smart. That's so smart."

"Thanks." Lex couldn't stop a smile from creeping up her face. It seemed like everything she did was brilliant in Ethan's eyes, and it made her chest feel like it was glowing every time. She stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, wrapping her arms around him for stability. Ethan bent down, tousling her already stress-pulled hair even more, and—

The fire alarm was still going off.

Lex pulled back. "We should shut that off before someone calls the fire department."

"Yeah," Ethan said. "We probably should."

Half an hour of battery removal, smoke fanning, dish washing, and cooking (this time, actually watching the pan) later, the kitchen was in... well, it wasn't clean, but it hadn't been since the day Lex and Hannah had moved in. Down to its usual standard of messiness would have to do.

When everything was ready, Lex found the room farthest from the kitchen— or rather, the closet. She knocked softly on the door. "Banana?" she called. "You alright in there?"

"No," Hannah responded, her voice a little muffled. Which wasn't ideal, obviously, but if Hannah could use words, she was holding up better than Lex had expected.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

Lex pushed the door open. Hannah was curled up on the floor, her knees tucked up to her chest and Ethan's taped-up headphones over her ears. They weren't plugged into anything. Lex crouched next to her. "Hey, Hannah," she said. "Everything's cleaned up in the kitchen if you wanna come eat now. It's latkes. It's fried potatoes, you'll like it."

Hannah opened one eye. "No more smoke?"

"No more smoke. It does kinda smell like oil in there, though."

Hannah considered. "Okay," she said. "Do I have to put the applesauce on it?"

"Huh?"

"Ethan said applesauce, but it sounds weird. Too cold and hot. Do I have to?"

"No, you don't have to," Lex chuckled. She would make sure of it. If Ethan threw a fit (which he wouldn't— even if he did have strong opinions on what should and shouldn't go on latkes, which Lex now knew more about than she had context for, none of those opinions were strong enough to bully Hannah over) she'd just kick his ass. She ruffled Hannah's hair. "Now, come on. Do you want a hand up?"

Hannah unfurled herself, grabbing Lex's hand and letting her pull her to her feet. Together, they returned to the kitchen, where Ethan was dishing up the first non-carbonized batch of latkes. The air was chilly, all the windows thrown open to let the smoke out, but not uncomfortably so. You almost couldn't smell the frying oil. The table was even set this time, with a real platter for the latkes and a serving bowl for the applesauce. "Aww, Ethan," Lex crooned. "You're like a little housewife!"

Ethan, still wearing his leather jacket under an apron so stained Lex couldn't be sure what the original color was, smiled. "Hell yeah, babe! The house-wifiest! Now eat, eat, they're gonna get all cold and gross!"

Ethan ushered them to the table, and Lex ignored the forks, grabbing a latke with her hand and taking a bite. A shatteringly crisp exterior gave way to soft, steaming insides, the taste salty and sweet and rich and a little smokey, but without the burn. "Holy shit," she said through a mouthful of potatoes. "Holy shit, Ethan. This is good!"

"Try it with the apple sauce," Ethan said, shoving the bowl towards her as he took another bite. Lex dipped the bitten edge in. Ethan was right, it did make it better— the sweet acidity blunted some of the grease, turning it away from cloying and towards decadent. Lex may have moaned a little. Ethan waggled his eyebrows at her. "That good, huh?"

"Shut up," Lex said, lightly hitting his shoulder. "Wait, wait, I'm gonna make an applesauce sandwich!"

"That's a great idea, babe," Ethan said. "I'm, uh. Thanks for letting me share this with you guys, by the way."

Lex slathered applesauce between two latkes. "Oh, yeah, sure," she said. "Thank us for letting you cook us this awesome food."

"'S not that," Ethan said, his face going a little red. "It's— it's like, something you'd do with your family, you know?"

"We are family," Lex said.

Ethan gave her a smile, warm in the chilly room. "Yeah," he said. "You're right. We are."