Under the Weather.
I stood in front of the stove absolutely perplexed on what to do next. I must have overestimated my abilities to concoct the perfect homemade chicken noodle soup because it certainly wasn’t as easy as opening a can and pouring it into a pot to warm. Why in the hell did I volunteer myself for this?
I grabbed my phone and dialed Pierre’s number, hoping that someone could provide me some sort of guidance.
“Hello?” His voice cracked over the receiver.
“I need your help,” I immediately blurted out.
I peered down into the now boiling mixture that was brewing on the stove. “I’m making Y/N and Kourtney chicken noodle soup before they wake up, to help them feel better. One problem though. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“Why don’t you just go buy some already made?”
I scoffed at the suggestion alone. My wife was far too smart and she’d know the difference between a homemade batch of Marco’s chicken noodle soup and a store bought version made by someone who actually knew how to cook. “She’ll know I didn’t make it and I want her to see that I put some effort into this.”
“I think Y/N would much rather eat the store’s soup than yours if she’s gonna end up poisoned by your chicken,” he chuckled. “I have no idea how to make soup. I barely even eat the crap. Call Hummels. He’s house trained.”
I began to break into laughter at his joke as I took a spoon to the concoction. “Alright. I’ll put him on three-way.” I took the phone from my ear and hit Mats contact so he would be connected to our current call.
“Hallo,” he spoke after the first few rings.
“Mats! Man, I need your help. I’m trying to make my wife this soup and Auba is no help so we figured you might actually know what you’re doing in the kitchen.”
“So you assumed that since I’m the older one I’d know how to cook?”
“Yeah. Kinda,” Pierre chimed in. “That’s the case, no?”
“I’m going to tell you now. No direction I give you is going to make Y/N want to eat that soup. I can tell you that much. Put down the spoon and save your wife the trouble. She’s already sick,” Mats commented.
“I told him that too,” Pierre chimed in once more.
“Yeah you two are no help. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
The two broke into laughter, realizing they really had done nothing but distract me for a moments. Not one had given me instructions on exactly what I should use to season this soup and add some form of flavor.
“Goodbye and good luck.”
“Don’t burn the house down.”
And with their comments, I hung up my phone and dropped it to the counter nearby. I grabbed for the carrots I had pulled from the fridge along with a cutting board and a knife so I could begin to slice them. I placed one down and began moving the knife along before being distracted by my phone vibrating.
I briefly looked over to the screen of the device, still cutting until I felt a sharp sting on my finger. “Shit!” I exclaimed as I looked down to my finger which was beginning to show a sign of blood piercing the surface of the skin. My left hand immediately reached out to wrap around the wounded finger while I grimaced between my teeth.
I turned around to be greeted by Kourt who was still wearing her ‘Frozen’ pajamas and was rubbing at her eyes while she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” The small figure neared me curiously and I held out my bleeding finger to show her.
“I just cut my finger, sweetie. I’ll be fine.” Her small green eyes immediately widened in fear. “Oh no! I can help.” She rushed over to the low cabinet and opened it to pull out the first aid kit. I chuckled at her fast action. She had been so used to seeing her mother rush to my aid and nurse my wounds that she was taking over the same role and mimicking her actions.
“Sit,” she instructed as she pointed to the nearby chair. I followed and sat down as she began to open the container. “Can you hand me a napkin?”
I nodded and grabbed one off of the table and passed it towards her. She used it to wrap around the small puncture that was leaking on my finger. Kourt wiped carefully until the red disappeared enough to her liking, then pulling a band aid from the first aid kit that she pulled tightly around the wound to cover it.
“All better!” She exclaimed in satisfaction, smiling brightly up at me.
“Thank you Princess.” I placed a kiss to her forehead and smiled as well. I was quite lucky to have her.
The sound of a new voice caused me to look over my shoulder. “What’s burning in here?” Y/N entered the kitchen much like her daughter had, rubbing her eyes and looking half asleep still.
“Burning?” Oh crap…
I hopped up from my seat and rushed over to the stove, seeing the soup boiling nearly over the brim of the pot. I quickly turned off the stove to settle it down but I worried that I may have messed up this meal even worse than what I started with.
“What are you cooking?” She looked over my shoulder where I stood, covering her mouth as she coughed.
“Chicken noodle soup. Well it was supposed to be but I screwed that up.” I looked pathetically over my shoulder to find her smiling towards me.
“Awww, you’re cooking.”
“Trying,” I corrected. “Trying to cook. You would think it would be easy to follow instructions from the web but I don’t think I did them all too well.” Considering I had almost put in barely cooked pasta noodles I wouldn’t say I had done all that good of a job of reading.
“If I wasn’t sick I would kiss you,” she smirked.
“You owe me plenty when you’re back healthy.”