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“It’s just chicken, Qrow, not a turkey. You’ll be fine.”
Qrow poked the chicken breasts sitting on the sink divider, still covered in their protective wrap. “Maybe I should just order in Chinese.”
Tai groaned from his spot on the couch. “Qrow, you can’t just order Chinese for your anniversary. That’s lame.”
Qrow turned and scowled at Tai. “You ordered Thai for yours,” he accused.
“That was different,” Tai protested. “And it was more like catering than plain delivery food. You can’t order cheap take-out, Qrow.”
“Whatever,” Qrow grumbled. He glanced back at the chicken. “Why did I let you convince me this would be a good idea?”
“Because it’s your first anniversary together and you wanted to do something special and unique and less cliché than taking James out to dinner at the fanciest restaurant and hotel in the city,” Tai said promptly. He laughed when Qrow groaned and hid his face in his hands. “Relax, Qrow. I make this dish all the time; it’ll be a piece of cake.”
“Why can’t you just make it instead?” Qrow whined. “You know how bad I am at cooking. Why do you think I never cooked anything other than instant noodles during our missions?”
“You’re only bad at it because you get impatient and turn the heat up too high.” Tai pushed himself off the couch and headed to the sink. “Come on,” he said firmly, “wash up. It’s time to get cooking.”
“Well, you did better than me when I first tried this recipe,” Tai said cheerfully. He surveyed the mess on the counter tops and the steaming plates of chicken and veggies. He took a bit of their test plate and hurriedly took a swig of his beer. “Maybe go a little bit lighter on the cayenne next time, though,” he said, coughing.
“How was I supposed to know half a tablespoon was too much?” Qrow argued. He tried some of the creamed veggies and smiled. “At least these taste good.”
“I didn’t say the chicken was bad,” Tai protested. He sniffled and took another swallow his beer. “I just didn’t tell you to put half a tablespoon of cayenne in.”
“You told me to put in a few dashes. Dashes aren't measurable, Tai,” Qrow said haughtily. He stabbed a broccoli floret with his fork and munched it loudly. “I decided I should measure.”
“But a half tablespoon?” Tai asked. When Qrow just shrugged and ate another floret Tai sighed. “Measurements are important in baking, Qrow. Cooking’s more an art than it is a science.” He plopped down on one of the bar stools next to Qrow and stole his fork. “Let me try.”
“Nope.” Qrow slid the plate away, blocking Tai’s arm with his own when he tried to reach over. “My veggies.”
Tai gaped at him. “What? Since when don’t you share food? You don’t even like vegetables.”
“I like certain types of vegetables,” Qrow said, “like these.” He elbowed Tai in the side. “Go get your own.”
“I can’t believe it,” Tai said, shaking his head mournfully. “After all we’ve been through together and you won’t even let a poor, starving man have a bite to eat. That’s just cold, Qrow.”
“Can the pity act,” Qrow said. He stole his fork back from Tai and hurriedly ate a forkful of veggies. “You’ve been drinking my beer and eating cheez-its all day. You’re hardly starving.”
Tai wrinkled his nose. “Gross….can’t you wait to talk until after you’ve finished chewing?”
Qrow swallowed and smirked at Tai. “Nope.”
Tai sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a brat.”
Qrow elbowed him again, harder this time. “Yeah, well this brat is the one giving you free beer, so watch it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Tai turned around on his stool and leaned back against the counter, propping himself up on his elbows as he stretched his legs out. “Seriously, though, you did a good job, Qrow. The chicken’s pretty spicy but you did a good job browning it and it has a lot of juice in it. Besides, James likes spicy foods, right?”
Qrow nodded and ate another bite of veggies.
“So he’ll like it,” Taid said. He reached over and ruffled Qrow’s hair, grinning when Qrow squawked in outrage. “You did good lil brother. You have the makings of a fine chef.”
Qrow shoved at Tai. “Would you shut up with this little brother shit? I’m older than you.”
“So?” Tai asked lazily. He stretched and then wrapped an arm around Qrow, yanking him off his stool and pulling him close for a noogie.
“Tai!” Qrow shouted, and struggled to get free. Tai just held him tighter.
“You know, I always wanted a little brother, but I got you instead.” He gave Qrow one last noogie and let him go. Qrow staggered to his feet and patted at his hair frantically. “Your hair’s fine, Qrow,” Tai said with a grin. “I swear, nothing ever seems to mess it up.”
“I don’t know what Raven sees in you,” Qrow muttered.
“Probably the same thing James sees in you,” Tai said easily. He reached out with a leg and tapped Qrow’s foot with his own. “Come on. We need to make the salad and clean up, and I need to show you the cake Summer sent over.”
Qrow’s eyes lit up. “Summer made cake?” he left off messing with his hair and stared at James hopefully. “Where?”
Tai laughed. “Salad and dishes first, Qrow. And the cake’s for James too, so no eating it all by yourself.”
“Spoilsport,” Qrow muttered, and started picking up dishes.
James was supposed to have been home five minutes ago.
Qrow fretted by the sink, washing and rewashing the bowl they had used to make the chicken sauce. All the food was ready, the chicken and veggies staying warm in the oven, the salad in the fridge, along with Summer’s famous ice-cream cake that was slowly thawing. He had set the table, lit candles, even placed a bucket of ice on the hutch with James’ favourite wine. Everything was perfect.
Except James wasn’t home.
Qrow rinsed the bowl, soaped up the sponge, and was halfway through washing the bowl again when he heard the garage rattle open. He hurriedly placed the bowl on the dishrack, ignoring the soap suds still clinging to it and stripped off the apron Tai had insisted he wear while cooking. Qrow hadn’t even known that they’d had an apron.
He ran his fingers through his hair, checked to make sure the candles were still lit, and was waiting at the garage door when James came in.
“Sorry I’m late,” James said, and shut the door with his foot. “There was an accident on 470 and traffic was pretty bad. I had to reroute.”
“Sounds nasty,” Qrow said. He took James’ briefcase and settled it on the small desk James liked to use as James shrugged out of his coat and hung it up on the wall rack; he settled his cap on the shelf above it and turned to face Qrow.
“Something smells really good,’ James said, sniffing the air. “Did you order dinner in?”
Qrow grinned and shook his head. “I need to show you something.” He grabbed James’ hand. “But you have to close your eyes.”
James smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re not going to run me into any walls, are you?”
Qrow poked James and smirked when he started. “I wasn’t planning on it before but now…”
“At least try and keep my face out of it,” James said, sounding amused. “I don’t need to show up at work with oddly shaped bruises.”
“Noted,” Qrow said, and towed James into the dining room, carefully steering him around the hutch where he had placed the bread and wine and pitchers of iced tea and water. “Wait here,” he told James, “and no peeking.”
James saluted lazily. “Duly noted.”
Qrow hurried into the kitchen, throwing on oven mitts and carefully pulling out the chicken and veggies. He served two plates and brought them out to the table, checking to see if James was peeking or not.
“Can I open my eyes yet?” James asked.
“Nope,” Qrow said, and then he scurried back to the kitchen, pulling out the salad and the tray of cheese and peppers he had cut and setting them in the middle of the table. He checked that his outfit was still intact and then shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to keep them still.
“Ok,” he said nervously, “you can open your eyes now.”
James opened his eyes and then stared at the table. Qrow had dimmed the lights earlier and the candles flickered softly in the glass holders Tai had brought over, sending multihued shadows across the table. “Qrow,” James said quietly, “did you do all this?”
“Yeah,” Qrow said. He rocked back on his heels. “Well, Tai helped some too. And Summer. But…yeah,” he trailed off, not knowing what to say. He watched as James looked everything over, lips curled in a smile. “Do you…like it?” he asked hesitantly.
“Qrow.” James took three large steps over to him and then his hands were framing Qrow’s face and he was kissing him. “I love it,” he said when he pulled away and Qrow smiled, relieved.
“I got your favourite wine,” Qrow told him.
“I saw,” James said, and kissed Qrow again. “Thank you,” he said. “I know how much you don’t like cooking.”
“Yeah, well, Tai says that’s just because I have no patience.” Qrow gestured at the food on the table. “You ready?”
James kissed Qrow’s cheek and moved to his seat. “I’m more than ready.”
Qrow smiled and brought the bread and drinks over and, as they settled in for their dinner, Qrow decided that maybe, just maybe, he owed Tai a thank you note.