Alistair laughed.
“I could be dangerous. You don’t know!” Noah yelped as Alistair suddenly whisked him right off the floor and pulled him into his lap.
“Oh, so very dangerous,” Alistair taunted. He slid his arms beneath Noah’s legs and behind his back, standing up with a grunt. “I’m in constant fear for my life.”
“Oof! Where are we going?” Noah hugged Alistair’s neck.
“To finish dinner, of course.” Alistair kissed his cheek. “I seem to recall someone saying they cussed out a lack of pasta. We should remedy that.”
“Don’t throw your back out carrying me.”
“Mm, don’t give me a reason to drop you.”
“Fair.” Noah chuckled. “Ah, do you think Mickey and Roger are done in there?”
“I should think so. If not, I’ll advise them there’s a freshly cleaned swimming pool that they can pollute.”
Noah cackled all the way into the—thankfully vacant—kitchen. He didn’t see any sign of what had gone on in there except for a lopsided stack of paper towels and a spatula on the floor. After Alistair set him down, Noah fixed the paper towels and went to return the spatula to the counter.
Alistair shook his head and wordlessly pointed to the sink.
“Oh, they’rethatkinda freaky.” Noah grinned.
“Quite.” Alistair laughed under his breath and checked the pot of sauce that was still simmering away.
“Good?” Noah asked hopefully, though his input had been minimal.
“Excellent. Frida is truly very talented.” Alistair went to the fridge to retrieve a carton of eggs.”Tell me. What did you learn?”
“Uh. Well. I learned to be quiet and do what she told me to?” Noah scratched the back of his hand.
“A worthy skill.”
“Perv.” Noah rolled his eyes. “I mean, you know, she didn’t really explain what she was doing. She just pointed at stuff.”
Alistair frowned.
“Okay, in her defense, Roger was in here.”
“Ah.” Alistair accepted that as a valid explanation, now setting a bag of flour on the counter next to the eggs. “I expect Crybaby was a more adequate instructor?”
“Yeah. She was.” Noah boldly took the flour to pour some out and begin shaping the pile. “She taught me how to make a damn volcano.”
“Very good.”
Noah cracked eggs into the center of the volcano, proud he had remembered how to…
Wait, shit. He was missing something.
Alistair held out a fork.
“Damn. Thanks.” Noah took it and whipped the eggs around in the middle of his flour volcano. “Ha, there we go.”
“Perhaps a future in the culinary arts, hmm?”
“As long as you’ll be there to hand me stuff.” Noah wagged his brows. “I thought we were gonna do this naked?”
“Another time, perhaps.” Alistair put his hand on the small of Noah’s back.
