Pairing: Lester / Becker
Word Count: 475
Summary: For Eriah211’s primeval denial fandom stocking, using the prompt “Who said anything about giving up?”
Lester watched from the doorway as Becker uttered yet another string of creative insults. The kitchen looked as though something had exploded, every surface was filled with spoons, bowls, and assorted debris. And everything was covered in a thin film of flour. How he’d managed to make that much mess, Lester had no idea. It was smudged across his t-shirt and even his usually neat, perfect hair had a white streak in it.
At least the smell of smoke was gone now that he’d opened the windows.
The rest of the kitchen, however was a disaster zone.
It was all Connor’s fault, as most things usually were, Lester had learned from experience. He was the one who had decided that everyone should bring something to the team party at the ARC, and somehow Becker had been nominated to bring Christmas cookies. He had rejected Lester’s suggestion to simply buy some, arguing that the whole point was to make them himself.
Lester had been forced to try batch number two and wasn’t sure that was a good idea, at least not without some additional health and safety waivers being signed beforehand. He nearly broke a tooth.
Batch number one would never be spoken of again; he still wasn’t sure how Becker had managed to create something that was simultaneously raw in the middle yet charcoaled on the outside.
Compared to that, batch two hadn’t been that bad. If you enjoyed trying to eat a hockey puck, that was. A rather sour-tasting hockey puck.
Batch three didn’t appear to be going much better, much to the frustrations of his flour-covered partner. The language was getting worse as Becker frowned at whatever he’d managed to create this time. He lifted the spoon and watched as the mixture dribbled off and splashed back into the bowl.
That was it. Lester couldn’t take it any longer. He had kept out of it, knowing that Becker hated accepting help, especially if it meant admitting that he couldn’t do something, but enough was enough.
“Hils, at the risk of being snapped at again,” he began, going into the kitchen, carefully stepping over a stray piece of dough on the kitchen floor, “Can I make a suggestion?”
Becker turned to him. “I’m not giving up.”
“Did I say anything about giving up? I was going to suggest some help,” Lester told him.
Lester rolled his eyes. “I do know how to bake, you know. Besides, I really do not need the extra paperwork if you give everyone food poisoning,” he added.
Becker smiled. “Well, if it means less paperwork, I suppose you can help.”
It was worth the two hours it had taken to clean the kitchen when Becker burst into his office the following afternoon, pressing a kiss to his lips and beaming.
“They like the cookies! Thank you, James.”
And yes, the title is stolen from Galaxy Quest…