[prp] american pie (kostya, america, otto)

[its me debz]

He'd texted America the room number, and had started making preparations in Otto's room. His kitchenette's counter was Laden with organized supplies, as well as a sheet of printer paper with a photocopied recipe for pizza on it. He'd copied nearly two entire cookbooks at the library during his second half of leave, and had spent hours calculating the most efficient groceries to purchase, enough to last the month.

And now, he was using a selection up before schedule. When America arrived, Kostya would have flour on his cheeks, glasses, and his "do NOT kiss the chef" apron.

Until then, he looked at Otto with an unsuspecting eye. "Is good of you to be sharing. Am sure she vill appreciate."

lizbot

bittiface

 

[Bittiface]

"I'm a generous dude." Otto stated non chalantly, having been watching Kostya work while lazing about on either the couch, and then hovering around the kitchen's island counter. Back and forth to what suited his interest at the time. He himself couldn't cook. Kostya was the only reason Otto got any nourishment besides dinners of skittles or MREs. Or crackers and peanut butter. That was a staple for the boy most days.

Now, he spun around on the bar stool, eagerly awaiting the time to eat.

lizbot

astrazilla

 

[its me debz]

Kostya offered an appreciative head nod, and busied himself with preheating the oven, sliding in the ceramic tile he'd use as a makeshift pizza stone.

"Going to run out of ingredient before end of month," he warned, shaking a finger at Otto like some sort of old babushka. He was just missing the headscarf to complete the perfect imitation of his grandmother. "Vill try to find somevun to get some on leave. Vill keep deal, no vorries."

That, and he'd be eyeballing America for a bit of a presidential tithe.

"America get to pick them one pizza, not all, so, vhat kind of topping you vant? "

bittiface

lizbot

 

[Bittiface]

Otto stared at the man as he shook his finger at him, unfazed yet curious like a disinterested feline. Kostya was amusing to watch, when he wasn't touching forbidden artifacts. It was nice having him as a slave. Blackmail was the best thing ever!

"Portals are open, right?" Otto asked, stretching his arms over the island counter. "I haven't been on leave in like... half a year?" He was due for vacation. Over-due.

His eyes lit up, wondering and hoping Kostya even had what Otto wanted for his pizza. "Pineapple and ham."

astrazilla

lizbot

 

[lizbot]

"And I put my hands up! They're playin' my song..." A long red pony tail swung and flipped along the stairs and corridor as America made her way to Otto's. She was in a fine mood, despite an earlier incident with trying to find toilet paper in the nightmare bathrooms, and it showed right down to her feet which were just shy of dancing.

Pizza could do things to a girl. Especially one who had gone without for far too long. Grinning, she knocked and held up a bag full of cold soda cans, recently liberated from a vending machine.  

[its me debz]

Kostya hummed under his breath, and promptly began rifling around in Otto's pantry before answering. A can of diced pineapple was in there, somewhere-- ah, behind the hash browns. He set it on the counter, opening it with a nearby can opener. If Otto had lacked various cooking utensils before, he did not any longer: the Russian had stocked it with the basics.

"Da, portals are being open now. Use days, are precious." He gave Otto a curious look. "Is inefficient, if vaste. Days go poof at end of month, da?"

Next, he pursued the fridge, and pulled out the ham. As they talked, he continued to prepare the toppings: the sauce was already in a bowl next to the dough, which was rising. Just as he was about to text America, she appeared. Kostya offered her a nod.

"Do tell: vhat you vant on your pizza? Otto choose ham and pineapple."

bittiface

lizbot

 

[Bittiface]

"I guess..." Kostya was right! He'd waste a day off if he didn't get his in. But where to go? The world was at his finger tips. Maybe a mall, or arcade, or just lay on a non-mutated beach for a whole day, basking in the notion that he didn't have to do anything.

He wondered if his mind could allow such relaxation.

"Door's open!" Otto hollered, much too lazy to open it for her. Despite his better judgement, he often kept it unlocked. Some people he knew picked locks anyway. What was the point?

lizbot

astrazilla

 

[lizbot]

The girl sauntered through the door, music still in her step. "Supreme for me, Red." Obviously. There was a brief, stifled impulse to tell Kostya he looked all sorts of darling at the moment, but she didn't want to risk the pizza. She set the cans in a neat stack at the counter and then allowed herself a good look-see at Otto's living room.

"Daaaaaang, ain't you just living the life!" America proceeded to be hella nosy, making small sounds of approval as various bits caught her eye. "Miles away from...well, pretty much every other room I've seen in this place. What's up with that?"  

[its me debz]

The look he gave America was that of a sad dog's. "Am not sure vhat is on supreme."

He knew some of it; and returned to the fridge to pull out the pepperoni and some ground beef, and half of an onion from leftover onion rings from the night before, as well as a bell pepper. Kostya, in all honesty, didn't mind this obligation he'd brought upon himself. Otto, as it turned out, was not picky about most foods: he'd try anything once, and sometimes asked for something to be more or less spicy, or to bring back a certain food he'd enjoyed from a past week.

"Otto is full hunter," the Russian said, starting to brown the beef, and smacking America's hand with a spatula if she tried to grab any toppings from where he'd divvied them up, "and has been hunter for very long time. Vhen you arrive at Deus again?"  

[Bittiface]

And Otto was never too shy to say when he didn't like something. Which when it came to food, wasn't too often.

"What he said." Otto agreed, kicking his feet against the bar of the bar stool. He watched as American snooped about, feeling a tinge of pride behind his grouchy mask. "I guess we get rewarded for not dying."  

[lizbot]

"Supreme is everything good," she reached out to grab a piece of bell pepper only to snatch it back, stinging from Kostya's impressive defensive technique. "Jesus, okay okay. Just make sure it's the best. That's why they call it a supreme. Because it rules over all the rest." She gave him an intense look before sitting down next to Otto.

America gave him a once over that was more impressed than when they first encountered each other in the Sahara but thankfully less than the time he'd gotten whatever bad juju that had everyone dropping their panties and raising their fists over him. "Well that's something to look forward to," she popped the top of a root beer, "...they must've picked you up young then, huh? Good to know you don't have to be old to move up."

She did her best not to think of what that might say about general life expectancy.

bittiface

astrazilla

 

[its me debz]

"Surviving is important," Kostya agreed, draining the ground beef and setting it aside, paying no mind to America's justification for liking extreme things that were of extreme importance. Kostya hummed to himself, lightly, and began the process of shredding mozzarella cheese. Blocks were the most efficient, after all.

"Did not ask vhile on leave," he said, nodding his head at the girl, "vhat is age? Am twenty two soon, last year and half go by quick."

He was still a trainee, too. But soon. Soon, he'd be in Death's arms. (It was there: waiting. A darkness watching, a darkness patient. A darkness thoroughly ignored.)

bittiface

lizbot

 

[Bittiface]

Unaware quite yet of the quiet leering, Otto opened up one of the cans of root beer for himself. Since he was going to be fed, Otto felt a little more friendly, a little more willingly to engage in conversation.

"Yeah, I was sixteen when I was recruited. Nineteen now." Did that give him an edge in the game, or was it just that much harder to rank up because of it? Regardless, he'd managed to climb the ladder despite a lot of teasing from a certain male red head giving him a hard time about his age.

b*****d.

lizbot

astrazilla

 

[its me debz]

All the toppings were neatly assembled into piles on the counter, prepared for utilization. With a quiet huhm, he began shaping the crust of the first pizza. Otto's, of course: it was his kitchen, and this was Kostya's contractual obligation. That was important. Adding its toppings, Kostya alternated between pineapple and ham in equal amounts and intervals. Finally, he set the oven timer for twenty minutes, and slid the pizza into it, on top of the pizza stone.

"So young," Kostya said, clicking his tongue. "Not as slight to you. Have apologise for ...that, already, am only meaning, they pick you very early."

As relaxed as he could get, he then reclined into a stool at the breakfast bar. A dash of flour was still on his cheek, as well as a small drop of pizza sauce on his glasses.

"Am fond of cooking," he concluded, "not as art, but as efficient."

bittiface

lizbot

 

[lizbot]

America gave Otto a smile full of commiseration, "Were there a bunch of others the same, or did you end up the baby for awhile?" She tried again to sneak an onion ring, "M'eighteen. Got recruited right after graduation and right before I woulda left for basic training. Pretty good timing, all said."

astrazilla

bittiface