•A low-class warrior, with a high-class heart• Turles x Reader!!

°Syrup?°

|time skip| |1st POV|

It didn't take that long to make 20 pancakes. Once the skillet got nice and hot after a few minutes, the process became a lot simpler. I divided the pancakes onto two separate plates. On the first plate I put 17, and on the second plate I put 3. I definitely cannot eat anymore than 4, as opposed to Turles. Hopefully it will suffice him until lunch. I put the two plates on the table across from each other, along with the syrup and two forks.

I walk back into the living room, seeing Turles sitting on the sofa, with his eyes shut. Man, I hope he didn't fall back asleep, I would of made all this food for nothing. "Erm, Turles?" His eyes immediately shot open. "Yes?" He must of been lost in thought then, thank god. "I finally finished making the food. I hope you can stand up, with my help of course." He nodded his head, signaling that he was ready to try.

I approach him, and go to his right. He slings his arm around my shoulders, and uses the other hand to hold on to the couch-arm. We both move in sync, lifting him off the couch. With a few grunts, he ended up gaining his balance. "Are you ok?", I ask with a hint of worry. "Yeah, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt that much," he grunts. "I'm a Saiyan, after all. This pain is nothing." How dramatic, figures.

We both walk into the kitchen, and I help him sit in the seat. I scoot in the chair after he sits down, earning a little grunt from him. After making sure he's situated, I sit across from him. He's staring at the pancakes, like he's eye-raping them. Oh boy. "U-uh, you can eat them when you're ready-." As soon as he heard those words, it was go time for him. He ate five of them in a matter of 10 seconds. Holy shit!

"W-wait Turles!" He looks up and squints his eyes at me, clearly annoyed that I disturbed his precious feast. "What." I hide a chuckle, man, this is priceless. I'm quite honored that he enjoys them that much, even though it's just store brand. "There's syrup for a reason, ya know." He raises his eyebrow, not knowing what the hell I'm talking about. Oh, I forgot that he was from uh, outer space. I reach for the syrup, and pour it on his pancakes. His eyes are tracing my every move, curious as to what I'm doing to his food. "There, it should taste more sweet and moist now. It's called syrup, and it's mainly used for pancakes." Turles's eyes are tracing the syrup as it drips down the pancakes, clearly mesmorized by it. He takes a few seconds to recompose himself, and he cuts off a piece of the pancake to try it out. As soon as he consumes the pancake, now covered in syrup, he lets out a faint-but-noticeable squeal of delight. Thats hella adorable.

Within a matter of seconds, he returns to his eating. However, he isn't eating it as fast this time. Probably to savor the syrup. He, of course, finishes his 17 pancakes before I finish my 3. I finish my last pancake as he closes his eyes, once again lost in thought.

"How was it?" I ask, expecting for some obviously positive feedback. "It was actually very good, thank you." For a Saiyan with a big ego, I have to admit that he does have manners. His eating habits can be a bit...barbaric though. Maybe that's just the way all Saiyans eat. He opens his eyes and leans forward, "And by the way, the syrup did make it taste a lot better, thank you." I give him a smile and say, "your welcome, I glad you like it." He side glances and leans back in his chair, giving me a "tsk." He reminds me of a moody teenager. Within the short time I've known him, Turles can easily switch back and forth between being grateful and being a emotionless wall.

|awkward silence|

I'm honestly not sure what else to say, since I can't exactly say something like "nice weather we're having", or, "how's your day been?". Icebreakers don't exactly work in this situation. I also don't want to ask him any personal stuff either, since I quite literally just met him yesterday.

"How old are you anyway Turles?" He stops leaning back in his chair, and is leaning forward now. "Hmm..let me think about it." What. Does he not know off the top of his head? He takes out his fingers and starts counting. What the hell is he counting, years?? Unbelievable. Then again, who knows how long he's been out in space. "21, how about you?" Thats younger then I thought he was actually. He easily looks like he can be 26, but has the personality of a cocky 18 year old. "I'm 20." He hums in approval, probably not knowing what to say.

"What do you even do on this boring little planet? It's made by what- 70% water or something like that? Don't bother correcting me either, because I don't care enough to know the exact percentage." Says Turles, in a non-amused tone. Cocky. "I watch TV, occasionally play games, and I work on mechanics." His head perks up a little at the last one. "Mechanics, you say?" I nod my head in response. "It's my career, I was introduced to it when I was a young teen by an old friend. Ever since then, I've worked for her from my house. It's a long distance friendship, the kind that doesn't require a lot of effort to stay in tact. Quite nice, actually." Turles nods his head again, seeming intrigued. "You should show me sometime, when I'm not crippled." I let out a small giggle at the last part, and the edge of his lip curves slightly. Just slightly. In fact, I could of easily imagined it.

"Well, since you're crippled, want to go sit outside? It's quite beautiful." He nods his head in response, and I walk over to him to assist him. I'll worry about the dishes later.

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