(no subject)

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ slumps down on the ground and sighs, gently nudging his laptop to the side. looks around his room, finding himself a little bored despite having so much he could do. it leads him into thinking, though for once it's nothing bad even if his nose crinkles up at this sudden urge in his chest.

ruffles his own hair with both of his hands, letting out an "augh" to himself. finally caves in after mulling it over in his mind, sighing as he pulls himself up. he's still in his daytime clothing, not really feeling the need to get into his pajamas just yet. it makes it easier for him to drag along his ipod, as usual. into a pocket it goes, out of the room nathan goes, and saying goodbye to his safe haven for now comes & goes.

wanders about the mansion, peering behind corners and doors (checked the study but passed by his room) to find a certain somebody. tries to push back that negative side that makes him want to turn around and forget it, nearly giving up until he passes by the glass doors that lead to the spacious backyard. hesitates when he notices albert there, shaking his head before opening it quietly. raises a hand up to rap his knuckles against the door frame gently, as if attempting to draw his attention and nothing more, nothing less. ]

Comments

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

[ a smile breaks through at last as he chuckles. ]

My apologies. I have a bad habit of siding with the voice of logic.

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ squawks in surprise, kind of like a bird. ]

WHAT?! Your logic is flawed! Flawed, I say-!

1/2

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

The lady doth protest too much.

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

[ chuckles again & turns to the glass door, walking a step towards it before turning to nathan. ]

Though I believe I've also missed dinner. To the kitchen, then?

1/3

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ looks ready to retaliate, so upset that he was called a lady and-- ]

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

...

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ oh, food! completely forgets his rage and stands up, dusting himself off. ]

Only if you make something good.

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

I promise you my best.

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ hands go on his hips, heaving a sigh. ]

Less talk, more food!

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

[ chuckles but dutifully makes his way in & through the glass doors. quick, long steps take him to the kitchen; begins locating the various cooking tools required to make pancakes (chocolate chip, if he remembered correctly) while putting in a slice of bread in the toaster for himself. ]

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ looks as satisfied as nathan can get, sort of falling behind since uh, his legs aren't exactly as long as albert's. he gets there quickly enough though, content in leaning on the counter to watch. ]

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

[ is a little rusty from the years of neglecting his culinary skills, but the recipe is simple enough & there is a shadow of body memory that he can follow, engraved into his muscles from their time together years ago. soon the batter is ready & poured into the frying pan.

ignores his toast, seeming rather glad to be focused on a task. ]

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ has his chin settled in his palms, still content in silently watching. looks at the batter with a skeptic eye, not even thinking when he blurts out what he's thinking. ]

So how the hell do you make chocolate chip pancakes without the chocolate melting? Wouldn't it turn into chocolaty goo? Doesn't seem natural to me.

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

. . . [ ignores the question until the pancake is just about done, only speaking when it's time to slide it onto the plate. picks off a fork as he places the plate onto the table & beckons nathan to sit. ]

I have my suspicions as to why. But Damon would be better suited in explaining the specifics.

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ looks momentarily surprised, grumbling a mock-response underneath his breath (perhaps making a face, too, as if trying to do a lame copy of albert's expression). sits anyway, nabbing the fork to begin eating. ]

1/2

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

[ doesn't seem to mind, more amused than offended. an expression of fondness overtakes his features against his will when nathan concentrates on his meal. ]

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

[ but (thankfully, in his opinion) he manages to smooth out into something less revealing within the next moment. steps back away from the table, leaning against the counter, easing back into his thoughts while waiting for nathan to finish his meal. ]

1/2

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ gets half-way through before he pauses. swallows the piece in his mouth as he gets lost in his own thoughts, staring down at the plate a little sadly. purses his lips between a frown, thinking about the stuff that he doesn't like thinking about, feeling something tighten hard in his chest. hasn't felt like this in a while, but barely recognizes it until the last minute. ]

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ frowns deeper and whirls to look at albert, fork still in hand. suddenly changes expressions (& feelings, even if they're private), waving said fork at him. ]

Hey, you! Why aren't you eating?

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

Lack of hunger.

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ narrows his eyes at him, unimpressed. ]

Oh yeah? Well you're gonna get sick if you don't eat, you know.

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

Ah? Worried for me?

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

PSH. No way!

[ stabs the rest of his pancake, shoving it into his mouth. makes a show out of chewing it up, trying too hard to show that he didn't just say that. ]

[prideofcontrol.livejournal.com]

My mistake, then.

[ does not pursue the topic, but the affection & laughter is apparent enough in his voice. ]

[prideofmusic.livejournal.com]

[ grumbles something incoherent. picks up his plate and moves to the sink, washing and drying the dish and fork before putting them away. leans on the counter beside albert (a good amount of space between them) and tilts his head upward to stare at the ceiling.

raps his fingers on the edge, thinking on how to say what he wants to say. it ends up being a little differently than planned, but it works for him. ]

... it was good.