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sparklingpax · 2 years

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The Art of Cooking, or...Not Knowing How

A/N:

-Based on my HC that Ginrai can't cook, has no experience since he never had the time to learn, and every time he tries it goes very wrong. On the other side, Hawk is a great cook, and usually ends up cooking for the base when no one else can. Shush, I like this headcanon ok--

-by this point theyre pretty much a couple :3 or at least, openly physically affectionate towards one another ^^

-oo yes also, set in canon, (hence the tags) but tbh, many of my HCs for canon versions of the characters carry into my Reverie stuff so...this exact thing could definitely happen in that universe loll ✨

-shoutout to anyone who has listened to me ramble about this exact scenario before because not only did you endure that bs but now you get a whole elaborate fanfic about it so....holy shit im so sorry jsdjsiskjsd 💀😳

-omg dont hate cloudburst btw I didn't know how to write this to make him look less bad but I swear hes not a bad person and none of the others are either they just. are used to letting Hawk do most of their paperwork for them & also the other three pretenders (not Hawk) have sort of, day jobs? So they are pretty busy....

-literally y'all I'm so sorry this exists, I blame the early morning hours of yesterday and a single cup of coffee this morning getting me from start to finish of this thing in record time. and my own inability to cook fueling this idea in the first place lmaooo I hope it's at least...somewhat enjoyable....so without further ado, here I go again with self-indulgent ginhawk content o///o''

-bruh it's been an actual age since I've written & finished a real fic-type thing...😳😳 again like, I'm praying I didn't miss anything in my grammar/typo checking 😅

-i sincerely hope you enjoy :]

///

“But—but I can cook!”

“You…can cook?”

“Yeah!”

“You can…cook?” Hawk repeated, as if this was impossible to believe.

“I—yeah? Well, I'm not all good at it, but it's food, right? It's edible…” Hawk raised an eyebrow at this as Ginrai pursed his lips and looked away, flushing slightly.

Suddenly, the kitchen seemed to fill again with the distinctive smell of burning chicken.

The image of large, misshapen chunks of it rather…creatively charred to ashy black and stuck to a Teflon pan.

Ginrai waving the smoke frantically, and then grabbing his cup of drinking water splashing it over the smoky meat, rendering it more inedible than it had already been….it was an amusing, yet depressing sight.

Hawk also recalled the price of the new pan he’d gone and ordered online an hour after.

He wasn’t joking when he told me it was dangerous to leave him alone in the kitchen. Was he aware it was burning before the smoke started up?

“Ok, ok…so I’m no world-famous chef...” Ginrai admitted hotly. He started to play with a stray fork from the newly-cleaned load.

Hawk stifled laughter and shook his head wordlessly. Ducking below the counter to organize the lids of pots and pans, his lips played at a smile.

“Yeah, that poor pan might have to agree with you—”

“But I would....like to…try again. Maybe, with some guidance this time,” he added more quietly.

“So that you don’t burn the food?”

“Pretty much,” Ginrai agreed, watching Hawk turn on the sink, continuing to unload the dishwasher.

Absentmindedly, he let his eyes follow the trail of water as it ran from the faucet next to him, freely touching on the items piled in the sink. From the upside-down bowl, down the slim, blue plates, pooling in another bowl, or heading further down to fill an empty red container….

“And…would you be aiming for somewhat of an edible meal this time around?” Hawk asked innocently.

“'Somewhat'—”

A sparkle flashed in the trucker’s gaze, and he reached forward to flick the running water at Hawk, who ducked to the side. The water hit him anyway, but he didn’t mind.

Meanwhile, Ginrai attempted to defend himself.

Hawk began loading the dishes now.

“In my defense, I’ve only made chicken twice in my life, and that fiasco last week doesn’t count!!”

“Well, neither do the other two times, since those were microwaveable chicken dinners—”

“Shut up!”

But they were both laughing.

Hawk got to thinking all the same.

As it was, there weren’t many people left in HQ at the moment, and fewer who could actually cook. Ordering out was not an option since their budget for the month declared they were already $126 over that spending limit.

So, all that considered, the duty of cooking fell upon Hawk once again.

Well…I have paperwork to start on, but as long as nothing else comes up, cooking shouldn't be a problem.

A quick knock on the side of the kitchen’s entrance grabbed the attention of the pair, and they looked up to see Cloudburst standing on the wooden threshold, holding some papers.

Ginrai had no idea what they were, but from the look on Hawk’s face, one could guess he did.

“Oh—hey, Clouds,” Ginrai waved, grinning.

The man waved back a little sheepishly. It didn’t look like he was here to hang around for fun.

He quickly looked to Hawk, and before he could say anything, the Pretender commander straightened and closed the dishwasher, entering the settings for the load.

“You…need those investigative patrol reports done, I presume?” He asked, not looking up. As the machine whirred into action, he moved to the sink and started to clean it.

The silence that followed seemed to suffice for an answer.

And suddenly, Ginrai noticed, Hawk looked tired. Very tired.

After all, Ginrai remembered, it was Hawk who ended up doing most of the paperwork associated with their team. He was supposed to review them, too…

“I take it you forgot to do these, and they’re part of what’s due tomorrow?”

Cloudburst was beginning to look a little embarrassed, and he started to play with the edges of the papers for a moment before stepping into the kitchen and setting them down on the marbled counter.

Finally, he spoke.

“I—well, yes. And I was going to do them tonight, but my office called and, um, they’ve sort of—they’ve got a lot of guys out. Naturally, there need to be people at the desks doing stuff, but also someone to sit watch on the communications station, and I don’t know if my boss would be too happy to have me call in to let him know I can’t…go either…”

Cloudburst broke off abruptly as he watched Hawk slipped his apron off and turned to face him, a polite look tying his features to a mild, calm expression. He leaned over and rifled through the papers for a moment, then spoke again.

“Don’t worry about it, go and do your job.”

“R-really? And…you’re ok with it?”

Hawk nodded. “This kind of thing can’t be helped.”

Ginrai made a slight face. He wasn't so sure about that one.

“I’m just glad you told me now rather than five hours from now. Remember to let me know immediately if anything important comes through the communications room tonight.”

Cloudburst smiled, saluted. “Yes, sir!”

He then gave a ‘goodbye’ nod to Ginrai, and quickly left the room.

Just a little curious, Ginrai leaned over the counter to take a look at the papers himself, then winced at the sight of nearly-illegible text scrawled in different places on the page, in different shapes, shorthand—

So….this is what they look like before they’re done. This is what he’s got to work with.

The young Autobot commander started to feel bad about the fact that clearly, he’d never even done the record-keeping part of reports, let alone the actual filing of them. In his opinion, they were a little pointless, but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t get stuck with them anyway.

Yes, it technically wasn’t his duty as the leader of the team, but…he still felt guilty.

It looked like a lot of work, after all.

Hawk really did a lot for the team, Ginrai was always fully aware, just…he wondered if anyone else seemed to realize that. Like, really realize.

If they did, maybe they’d be more careful about their own paperwork stuff, instead of dumping it on Hawk all the time, who’s too nice to say no.

Next to him, Hawk was already starting to read the papers over. Ginrai vaguely recalled the list of projects the man was already swamped with, and came to a new resolve.

Ok, next team meeting, I’ll ask them all to start doing their own reports. I am their leader now, I can do that sort of thing.

Feeling good about this, he put an arm around Hawk, leaning over and giving him a soft kiss on his head. With a soft exhale, Hawk seemed to accept the gesture, letting his weight fall more limply on Ginrai. The smile on his features was a tired one, but it read of soft gratitude.

Neither said a word for a few heartbeats, letting the silence embrace them. No one needed to say anything, no one wanted to.

Outside, the autumn sky had begun to darken, making it seem much further into the night than it likely was. It was as if there was not a living soul in that base save for them.

Then, Hawk shifted and Ginrai stepped to the side to let him stretch.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He offered. The grin from earlier seemed to return.

“Well, Supreme Commander,” Hawk said, giving him a decidedly more sultry look.

“Well, my lovely subordinate?” Ginrai prompted, blushing lightly.

“I’m going to need some help getting dinner done if I want to have time to file those reports before the deadline…”

Ginrai’s eyes sparkled. He knew where this was going.

“…you said you wanted to try cooking again?”

“Hell yeah!”

///

“Alright, now that we have our water…” Hawk motioned to the pot sitting in the sink, then the stove. “It’s got to heat up.”

Ginrai nodded, still rubbing his newly bandaged hand.

Minutes ago, the two had thought to prepare the vegetables going into the pasta before starting on anything else, just to get it out of the way.

Hawk had begun cutting things up while Ginrai watched, then after a few minutes, handed Ginrai the knife to give him a go at it.

Not a minute went by before the man decided to speed up the cutting pace, drop the knife, and well…the band-aid could speak for itself.

It was quickly decided that Hawk would handle all the other parts of this dish, and Ginrai would be on the pasta, and only the pasta.

What could go wrong there, after all?

“Um…you wanted the fire on high?”

“Yes.”

“So, I turn the knob this way?”

“Other way.”

“Oh, yes, right.”

“Alright."

Hawk quickly added, a little nervously, “And please, try not to burn yourself.”

Ginrai gave a thumbs up, then moved to operate the stove. He frowned at its lack of fire after turning the knob. After a moment or two of trying, he looked to Hawk again. He’d forgotten to push the knob inwards to get the fire going, but clearly wasn’t aware of that.

“Is…is this thing on?”

Hawk fought the urge to start laughing. It would be light-hearted, but he didn’t want to hurt Ginrai’s feelings, so he bit his tongue instead.

He must not be joking when he says everything he eats is store-bought and microwaved.

What made this especially funny was how he did this wearing an apron Hawk remembered receiving as a Christmas gift from Waverider.

The front side read “Master Chef, Move Along” in English, written with big, red letters.

The irony of it was almost too much for Hawk. However, he composed himself and walked over to the stove.

“Push it first, hold,” as he did this, a rhythmic crackling noise sprang from the stove, “and then, you’ve got a fire. So now, turn it where you need.” He stepped back and watched as Ginrai tentatively held the knob, then nodded to himself.

“Alright, fire on high, here we come,” he murmured. And with a gentle twist, the fire popped up under the smoky grates at what seemed to be the ‘high’ setting.

At last, they were getting somewhere!

A half hour had gone by, but perhaps the next one would make up for the lost time. And, thankfully, Ginrai hadn’t burnt himself on anything—or burnt anything—yet. The pot was carefully placed atop the fire with no troubles.

Now, it was time to for Hawk to focus on finishing the rest of the meal. Dumping the tomatoes into the bowl and beginning to crush them, Hawk called to Ginrai to add the pasta to the water if it seemed to be boiling.

“And…how do I tell it’s boiling?”

“Bubbles,” Hawk responded more quietly, seeming very focused on smashing the tomatoes in his bowl.

“Got it!”

The trucker glanced at the pot and saw a couple bubbles. Two, he counted, probably from when he’d filled the pot with water.

Did he mean a lot of bubbles or a little?

Guess there was only one way to know.

He then looked to the unopened box of pasta lying near the edge of the counter. Quickly, Ginrai opened it and plopped it into the water, jumping back as it splashed out a little.

From where he was standing, Hawk called out to him.

“Could you grab the two bowls near the window? The water will need some salt, and this paste will need some flavoring.”

“Roger!”

Hawk thought about going to check the bowls, but his present task seemed to have all his concentration. He only hoped Ginrai knew the difference between the two ingredients.

And once again, Ginrai proved he could not be left to do anything alone in the kitchen.

He played a short game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe to decide on which bowl was going to the pasta, and which was going to Hawk. Then, feeling satisfied with his decision, he flipped one of the small bowls upside down, dumping the entirety of its contents into the pasta.

No, he had no idea which was salt, and which was the flavoring. He'd instead opted to hope it was salt he’d just added to the pasta.

As the water started to bubble more vigorously, the trucker stood and stared at it, thinking.

Huh. I didn’t know you put that much salt in pasta. Maybe that’s why they say it’s bad for your cholesterol or…something.

“Hey, before you bring the flavoring here, you might want to make sure the pasta fits the pot! It’ll be easier to work with if its been cut down to fit.” Hawk called over again, seeming to still be working on the tomato paste.

Ohh…well, that makes sense. How do I get that out of the pot to cut it, though?

Ginrai tapped his chin in thought, still staring at the murky, white water as it bubbled—viciously, now—and the pasta as it started to bounce and move.

I wonder if—

He reached in to pick up the pasta with his bare hands, then snapped back, hissing in quiet pain.

Obviously, it was hot by this point, and so it had burned him. But what really hurt was when the heat felt like it had seared through his band-aid and touched his cut from earlier.

Was cooking supposed to be this painful?

Calm down, you're just resizing it.

He exhaled slowly and carefully putting the pasta back in the pot so he could contemplate plan B.

Which was…well........those scissors near the knives looked pretty good.

Because maybe, he didn’t even need to take the pasta out of the pot?

Shaking out a hand to get rid of the burning sensation, he reached over with the other to take the scissors, and without a second thought, began to cut the tops of the noodles so they didn’t stick out so much.

“When you’re ready, I need that flavoring!”

Ginrai nodded and dropped the scissors on the counter, grabbing the unused bowl and heading to where Hawk was working.

He didn’t quite notice all the extra pieces of cut pasta had rolled all over the floor, the counter, and…into the grates below the pot. Right next to the fire.

“Here you are,” Ginrai said, grinning, brandishing the bowl and getting ready to pour it in. Hawk looked up to thank him, and was glad he did.

“Oh, that’s the salt, what I need for this should be in the blue one. Though, you can add some salt if we need it.”

Ginrai felt the heat rise to his face.

Oh no.

Hawk tilted his head at him, looking a little concerned.

“Did you put the flavoring in the pasta?”

Meekly, Ginrai nodded. He was sure his face was red by now. But Hawk just smiled.

“That’s alright. Pasta can have flavoring of its own,” he resumed stirring the tomatoes as he continued. “But I’ll need both for this, then. Just add as much of the salt in here as what you put in the pot over there, okay? Hold on, I need something from the fridge.”

It’s…okay. Alright. Ok.

As Hawk put the bowl down and headed for the fridge, Ginrai swallowed, staring at the salt sitting on the counter.

He was no cook, but…he wasn’t sure there should be that much salt added to tomato sauce?

But Hawk is a cook, maybe he has his own reasons. He said same as with the pot.

So, Ginrai lifted the bowl, and turned it upside down, same as before. Then, seeing nothing else to do, he started to mix.

Meanwhile, Hawk returned, but didn’t say anything for a moment as he noticed the empty bowl of salt. For a moment, he stood there, visibly piecing together a couple things.

Then it seemed to hit him all at once as he slowly looked from the bowl to Ginrai, eyes wide.

“Um. When I said 'the same as the pot'…”

“…yes?” Ginrai slowly stopped mixing and put the bowl down. He heard the slight uneasiness in Hawk's voice.

“Exactly...how much did you put in the pot?”

“Er….all of it?” He answered slowly.

“I see…so, I assume…there’s no more of the flavoring?”

“Um...and…no more salt, either,” Ginrai finished his train of thought for him.

"I...see...."

Ginrai touched the back of his head awkwardly, feeling the heat return to his cheeks.

Hawk stared at the bowl again, trying to figure out how to salvage this.

Perhaps if we start over, and I handle the pasta. He could crush up the tomatoes.

“Um, Hawk.”

But first there would have to be—

"Hawk."

Ginrai poked him timidly. Finally, he looked up, then followed his gaze to the other side of the kitchen. And promptly regretted taking those extra seconds of thought.

Oh, Primus, please tell me I’m hallucinating.

The deity seemed to answer through the pasta itself.

From under the grate, there was a violent crackling noise and a pop of light. And just as suddenly, smoke started to rise from the floor, the counter, under the grate.

All the while, the milky-white water in the pot seethed with bubbly rage, beginning to overflow and spill over, jostling the uneven pieces of pasta sticking out with such force that a few fell to the floor.

“It's burning!” Ginrai exclaimed, audibly starting to panic. Hawk blinked at it, somewhat amazed at the spectacle.

Yes, it was. It was definitely burning.

“Is—is it supposed to do that?”

No, it wasn’t.

Without responding, Hawk darted towards the stove and reached out to turn it off, but pulled back sharply with an utterance of pain.

The fire had burned him.

Judging by the pieces of pasta everywhere, he must have…literally cut the pasta off to resize it.

After a second try, he was able to switch the stove's fire off, and the two of them quickly stamped out the little flames started on all the pieces of burning pasta.

Then, Hawk ran over to the pantry to get the oven mitts, so he could get the pot into the sink.

But the smoke hazing their visions wasn’t hanging around for decoration. And Hawk realized that a little too late.

He looked over from the sink to see Ginrai carrying the bowl of tomato paste to the garbage and called to him.

“Um—Ginrai, my hands are full, could you open the window so the smoke doesn’t set off the—”

Before he could finish, the piercing, high-pitched sound of their fire alarm went off, startling Ginrai enough that he dropped the bowl he was holding. With yet another loud noise, the ceramic shattered, and the tomato paste went all over the floor.

But, rather than worry about that, he knew Hawk had been trying to ask him for something.

“The what?!”

“The window! Please!” He repeated, his voice rising.

"Open it?"

"Yes!!!"

The window was opened. And thankfully, the noise stopped after a couple beats.

Quietly, the two watched as smoke drifted out of the kitchen and into the night air. Then, they began to clean in silence.

Hawk began to think.

Pasta had been, in his opinion, the easiest option for a guided intro to cooking next to a literal salad, but at this point, he wasn’t even sure if that salad would have been a good idea.

“Hey, um…"

Ginrai’s tentative tone caused Hawk to stop what he was doing and he turned to see the 19-year-old fiddling with the cleaning rag, standing by the counter.

“I feel like an apology isn’t gonna cut it here, but…I wanted to apologize anyway…” he continued, looking to the floor, ashamed.

He was still wearing the apron with words that created such irony to the whole situation that Hawk couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I’m really, really—”

“It’s alright, Ginrai,” Hawk responded, setting the clumps of rubbery pasta back down in the pot and walking over to him.

He looked quite surprised, so Hawk elaborated. “We’re good at different things, and you tried here tonight. Plus, with practice, you’ll get it right someday.”

He then placed a hand on Ginrai’s arm, and squeezed lightly.

The young commander gave a flustered smile and blushed again.

"Well....at the very least, I'm glad we got to spend some time together, you know?" he murmured, still smiling.

“Absolutely. I’ve got a long night of paperwork ahead of me, which I’m dreading, so this was nice. As chaotic as it was, you know I’m glad for the time we spend like this…not fighting battles with Decepticons, not sitting through conferences for battle plans and upgrades…I’m...really happy right now, Ginrai…”

He hugged Ginrai suddenly, trailing off. And after a moment, Ginrai smiled and hugged him back.

“I’ll ask more questions next time,” he murmured.

“I’ll be clearer as well. I was at fault here, too.”

"No way..."

"I was. So don't be too harsh on yourself for it."

“I love you,” Ginrai whispered finally, squeezing Hawk lightly.

“I love you, too…”

And I’m glad both of us come away with only mild cuts and burns, nothing more.

After a period of silent affection, Hawk drew back gently and gave a slight smirk.

“I’ll always love you,” he repeated, “even if you can’t cook to save your life.”

And they started laughing again.

Standing in a messy kitchen with the window open and wearing aprons that read silly things in English. Hawk, with a small burn on his hand, and Ginrai with bandages on his.

The pair laughed about the whole fiasco.

Sure, they’d go into something like $200 over their “ordering food” spending limit after tonight. If there was nothing left to eat from their cooking attempt, then ordering was their only Plan B.

But…tonight was a night to remember, like many others.

And, Hawk would be going into yet another paperwork session feeling less stressed than before.

For that, he was also glad.

Who knew the good that could be accomplished by, well, setting pasta on fire?

///

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