Chapter Text
Home.
The word has started to feel less awkward on Elliot's tongue. A word they couldn't have given a meaning to, months ago; now it's something they can't live without.
This particular morning, the little grunt is the first one awake, and they sift through the fridge with a yawn. The plan for the day is a lazy one - after they make breakfast with Sanford, the rest of the day is free. No missions, nor training. Elliot's not sure how they'll spend their free time, but they'll probably just hang out, maybe take a nap or two. It's been several days since the… incident, and while their wounds are pretty much healed, Elliot's still tired. The entire experience was draining enough without the added bonus of their fast healing sapping their energy, and it seemed like all they'd done lately was sleep. Hopefully their energy will return soon.
"Ok, uh… eggs, bacon.." Elliot mumbles to themselves as they take things out of the fridge, "milk, what else.. Oh yeah, pancake mix." they set the ingredients on the counter and close the refrigerator, then open the cabinet, searching for the box.
Of course it's on the top shelf.
With a sigh, Elliot climbs up onto the counter, carefully balancing on their knees as they reach up to grab the pancake mix. The motion makes their sore shoulder pop, drawing a hiss of pain from their lips, but Elliot brushes it off and hops back down, box in hand. No time for whining if they want to have everything ready before Sanford is awake. They close the cabinet door quietly, making sure they don't wake anybody else up prematurely.
Elliot gets to work on the pancake mix first, since it'll take the longest. Rolling up the sleeves of their baggy sweater, they pull out a mixing bowl. They measure out the ingredients by the instruction, mixing everything together in the bowl, tapping their foot rhythmically while they stir. Once that's mixed, they set the bowl aside - they'll wait a bit before they start on the pancakes. Elliot's stomach is already growling, even more so when their eyes land on the pack of bacon. Nobody will mind if they steal a piece early, right?
Setting a skillet onto the stove, Elliot drops a little butter in it and opens the package of bacon. After they lay a couple strips in the pan, the grunt pops one in their mouth with a hum. A door opens in the hallway, and Elliot turns to greet Sanford with the strip of raw bacon hanging out of their mouth.
"Is that.. Raw? Don't eat that!" Sanford sounds alarmed as he sleepily shuffles over, pulling it out of their mouth. "You'll get sick, bozo!"
"Wha? No I won't, give it back!" Elliot pouts, barely managing to win back their snack. This time, they swallow it before Sanford can wrangle it out of their hands, but Elliot can't avoid getting grabbed as the brawny mercenary scoops them up in his arms playfully. "What, you've never snuck a piece of bacon or two while ya cook?" Elliot huffs as Sanford holds them up by their armpits, their toes dangling at least two feet off the floor.
Sanford laughs a little as he holds the smaller grunt up, greatly amused by their defensive puffed up cheeks. "'Course I have, but I at least cook it first!"
Elliot sticks out their tongue at him. "Raw meat has the superior texture!" they insist, kicking their legs in an attempt to get down - as if they dislike being held like a baby. Sanford just shakes his head, and sets Elliot down, but not before he plants a kiss square on their forehead. "You surprise me every day, bud. You sure you won't get sick?" he questions with one eyebrow lifted, and Elliot nods convincingly.
"Never made me sick before!" they say proudly, turning back to face the stove so they can flip the bacon over and let the other side cook. Sanford watches over their shoulder, setting his hands on their hips. It makes Elliot blush a little, but they try to focus on the food. "Well, you're a doll for gettin' breakfast going early. Remind me to thank you later, huh?" Sanford hums, ruffling their hair one last time before he quits harassing them and gets started on the eggs. Elliot can't help but give a little purr as they turn their attention back to the pancakes. They wouldn't dare let him forget.
Though they have to switch to the other side of the kitchen in order to have room to put the pancake griddle on the other counter, Elliot's still close enough to Sanford that their sides brush occasionally. The kitchen is pretty small, and judging by the sound of an opening door and shuffling feet, it's about to get smaller. After they finish pouring the batter out into a couple circles on the pan, Elliot lifts their head to greet the next person awake, Doc.
The medic heads straight for the coffee pot, like usual, but he seems rather well-rested - at least, by Doc's standards. It's not until after his first sip of brew that he actually greets them, taking a seat at the table a few feet away. "Smells good.. You two look good as little servants." he teases lightly, leaning back in his chair.
"Pfft. Is that what they mean when they say mercenaries are good for everything?" Elliot posits, amused. They carefully flip the pancakes over and lean their hip against the counter, waiting for the other side to brown. Another voice from the other end of the kitchen joined the conversation, and this time Elliot only jumped a little at his sudden presence.
"Be a lot better with maid outfits or something." Hank chuckles with a voice that's particularly raspy given that they've just woken up. The depth of his voice always makes Elliot shiver a little, especially since Hank seems to just appear out of thin air every time they enter a room. It still eludes them how a person that large makes zero noise as he walks.
Sanford barks out a laugh himself. "Yeah right. I ain't wearing that shit. Eli maybe, not me. Y'all lucky we even cooking for ya when we get comments like that from the peanut gallery." Elliot's face grows a little red again at the remark, and they look over their shoulder to shoot a glare at Hank. His stupid smirk, barely visible with his fucked up lips, makes Elliot quickly turn back around before they get even more flustered.. or burn the pancakes. I would say I wouldn't wear that shit either, but… I'd do it for a measly head-pat.
Laying the finished pancakes in a stack on a plate, Elliot poured some more batter onto the griddle. It wasn't long before all the cooking was finished, and typical of his character, it was only then that Deimos arose from his grave. The sleepy hacker trudged out of the bedroom, seemingly only roused by the smell of breakfast. "Ah, so he is alive." Doc hummed with his hands wrapped around the warm coffee cup, watching Deimos plop down beside him with a tired groan. For being the last to wake up, he sure seems exhausted.
"Lay off, dude, I was up until almost 4 writing that damn code." Deimos grumbles, explaining his lack of enthusiasm. "Hah… s'it ready yet? I'm wasting away here!"
Sanford waltzes over with a plate, chuckling, and sets it in front of Deimos. "Chrissakes, boy. Plenty of meat on you yet. Here, promised ya I'd make you a plate." he hums as he bends over to kiss Deimos, which greatly appeases him. He quits complaining for the time being, and stuffs his face full of scrambled eggs. "Thanks, Sandy." Hank joins them, bringing a plate for 2B, and once Elliot's got their plate they take a seat too. The breakfast is every bit as good as they'd hoped - the smallest of the bunch swings their legs in their chair happily while they munch on a couple strips of bacon.
"At least this time it's not raw, huh?" Sanford pokes them with his fork, drawing a confused look from the other three. Elliot sits there with an awkward expression and kicks him under the table gently, refusing to elaborate. Sanford explains for them, thankfully.
"I truly hoped you had some brain cells in you, Elliot. Seriously? Raw meat? Of course it'll make you sick." Doc sighs. The medic pinches his brow in frustration, but his scarred lip is curled in a way that shows he finds it humorous. Elliot puffs up their cheeks defensively once again, letting out a sigh. "It doesn't make me sick, I swear! I'm just.. Weird, okay?" they sigh, propping their elbow on the table.
Even Hank casts his doubt. "Even I get sick from raw meat, squirt.. But I will agree the texture is great. Not worth the stomach ache."
"Well, I believe ya, Eli. Shit, if you can purr, I wouldn't put it past you to have a stomach of steel." Deimos defends them, swallowing a mouthful of food. Elliot smiles, satisfied. "My point exactly. Thanks."
Banter aside, it's not long before everyone's plates are clean. Elliot's next task is to determine what they'll do today. "Sooo.. What's the plan for today?" they ask, handing their plate to Doc while he takes the dishes to the sink.
Standing up, Hank stretches and cracks his neck loudly. "Deimos and I gotta job today. Dunno about the other two." he responds simply, and heads back to his room to get ready, Elliot assumes.
"I shouldn't have to say this, but please be careful? Try to keep the idiocy to a minimum." their medic requests over his shoulder, to which Deimos pats his back. "Don't worry about us, old man. This shit's easy."
"Yes, that's why I'm letting the two of you handle it." 2B chuckles. Turning to Elliot, he finally answers their question. "Sanford and I are gonna work out together if you want to join us. It would be good for you to get some exercise in now that you're healed up."
Elliot bounces a little in their seat, excited. They try not to drool at the thought of the two men lifting heavy weights, sweating and showing off their muscles.
"Hmm.. Sounds good to me. You're on."