He frowned, looking down for a moment. "A little," he admitted. "But that's okay." * * * "It's not bad," she said, surprised.
She went to the kitchen, getting out some food. "I can make some lunch." *** He pursed his lips. 'Did you think it was going to be?"
"No, you're sick," he interjected, frowning worriedly. * * * "According to you, I was drunk," she replied, looking over. "So, yes. I'm not even a good cook."
She laughed slightly. "I'm not sick. I'm fine." *** He grinned. "I was there when you made it. It went well."
"And I don't like just sitting around waiting on people to do things for me," she said, her eyes on him. *** "Right," he teased.
"Yeah, well, you got attacked by a cat," he said flatly. * * * She rolled her eyes, sitting up and stretching. "I'm gonna go shower."
He raised an eyebrow. "Let's try working together here." * * * She stood up and headed into the other room, closing the door behind her.
She nodded, getting out some ingredients. *** He got up, grabbing some of her clothes and handing them to her.
He pulled out a pot, putting it on the fire. "Okay. What first?" * * * She took them, ruffling his hair. "Thanks, Cy. What would I do without you?"
