Parker watched Eliot whip the cream by hand with a wire whisk. She loved watching him cook. It was fascinating to watch his hands- hands that were so proficient in the art of violence and destruction- create such delicious culinary masterpieces. The look of peace on Eliot’s face was something she’d never get tired of seeing either. He truly loved to cook.
“Have you ever killed anyone with a whisk,” she asked out of the blue, surprising herself as much as Eliot. She hadn’t meant to ask that.
Eliot’s hand barely paused as he turned his head to give her what she thought of as his ‘There’s-something-wrong-with-you-Parker look, number 6.’ She was a little proud that she could tell the differences in all those looks now.
“No, Parker, I haven’t,” he replied mildly. “It’s more of a defensive weapon; doesn’t work so well for offense.”
She nodded and gave him a crooked smile.
“Have you ever killed anyone with a kitchen utensil, aside from a knife?” Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want to make him think about stuff like that when he was so happy. Hell, she didn’t want to make him think about stuff like that at all. “I’m sorry,” she said from behind her hand, “don’t answer that.”
Eliot scowled at her, the whisk stuttering against the side of the bowl. He turned his attention back to his task, but said gruffly, “Metal spatula. It wasn’t pretty.”
Trying not to think about just how he would go about doing that, Parker just nodded, afraid to open her mouth again in case more inappropriate things came popping out. That was another thing she loved about him, though. He always answered her questions as honestly as possible, even when it irritated him or he thought she wouldn’t like the answers.
Silence reigned except for the scrape of the whisk against the bowl until Eliot grunted in satisfaction. He tapped the whisk against the side of the bowl to remove the excess from the paddle and Parker watched avidly as he folded most of the whipped cream into a larger bowl filled with what looked like dark chocolate pudding. Or, well, she guessed it was chocolate mousse now. Oh, she could hardly wait for dinner tonight. Eliot transferred the mousse to smaller, single serving dishes before he put them in the refrigerator to firm up.
When he came back to the counter he had a small plate of strawberries. He ran one through the whipped cream he’d left in the bowl and held it out to her. She took it with a tremulous smile, figuring the offering meant she was forgiven for her earlier gaff. “Fankoo,” she said as she chewed.
Eliot rolled his eyes and shook his head as he loaded up his own strawberry. “You’re welcome, Parker,” he drawled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in the way she knew meant he was trying not to laugh at her.
That was okay, though. He could laugh at her if he wanted to. She asked awkward questions and he got cranky with her, but they both knew the other didn’t really mean any harm. They were family and that’s what families did.
Prompt: Eliot Spencer- whisk
Authorís Note: Written for the wonderful dragonydreams in honor of my 9th Writing Anniversary. I know you just asked for Eliot, but Parker demanded some attention, too. I hope you like it, honey!
Written: February 4, 2013
Word Count: 546