Wicked Roommates (MxM/MxF) TEMP HIATUS

6. Red Velvet

Bradley

"For fucks sake Nalfain, I'm not buying you more Oreos! That's your fifth pack this week."

Nalfain slides his sunglasses down and glares, "They are delicious, I want them."

"How's it feel to want? Eat an apple when we get home instead, you like those." I snap, putting them back. Nal utters a Drow curse and snatches the pack off the shelf again, throwing it back into the cart defiantly.

"You will acquire them for me Bradley, or you can go hungry tonight." He gives me a cruel smirk, crossing his arms in resolve. I'm starting to wonder how he managed to stay alive this long; how did his family not off him sooner? He's every bit the self-absorbed, conceited, ungrateful bastard. I hate him as much as I need him, and it's becoming quite the predicament.

"Whatever, don't say I never gave you anything" I grumble, tossing four more packs in with defeat. This elf has a major sweet tooth, and a serious rage problem. I can't allow his temper to flare up in public, we can't afford the attention. Almost all of our fights aren't worth the energy, so it's just easier to give the pointy-eared bastard what he wants most days, and that pisses me the fuck off. Sometimes I feel like an irresponsible parent with a spoilt child. Parenting guides would affirm that giving him what he wants when he pouts is wrong, but I'm sure the authors of said guides have never met a Drow. I'm not Nalfain's parent, I'm more like the only responsible, rational, undead guy in the household. I can only imagine what a nightmare it'd be to raise a juvenile of his kind though. Hard pass.

"Bradley, look at these!" Nalfain's deep voice comes from the next aisle over—that elf moves silent and fast, the sneaky little bitch.

"Gimme a second" I mumble, pushing our cart around the corner to find him, and he's actually hovering in the baking aisle. I make a point of sighing audibly, "what, Nal?"

"Is the cake itself in this container? Is it magic?" His slender hand waving a box of Red Velvet cake mix for me to see. I can't help but chuckle—sometimes his limited understanding of the human world is entertaining, and dare I say cute even. I walk to his side, and he hands me the box so I can explain.

"It's not magic, the box just contains the things you need to make a cake. It's sort of like having all of the components for a spell ready-made in a single container instead of having to go acquire them yourself, make sense?"

Nal narrows his eyes in curiosity, eyeing myself and the cake mix. "Fascinating, is it difficult to make?"

"Not really, you add a few basic ingredients to the mix, and then bake it in the oven and frost it yourself. It's like a short-cut to making cake; pretty hard to fuck up."

His dark eyes widen some as he scans the shelves, "I would like to make a cake tonight, Bradley." I try not to cringe visibly, because anytime Nal tries to cook everything goes to shit and something gets destroyed. He's begun to watch the Food Network the past several days which is fine, but he's not exactly patient, and he ended up breaking my Blendtec earlier this week. Baking is a relatively peaceful activity though, so maybe I should humor him. Fostering a non-violent skill in Nalfain may be prudent, but it all comes down to whether or not I can survive the teaching process without offing him.

"Fine. You'll need some frosting, or I can help you make some buttercream from scratch—either works." Nal glances at me, surprise and excitement flash briefly across his stupid pretty face "really?"

"Yeah, baking is probably the least violent thing you could do today, so I'll support it."

He actually smiles in response, sort of like a child who's just been told they get an extra dessert. I think it could've even been a genuine smile, which is almost disturbing in a way because it seems to go against his very nature. I choose to respond with an amiable one in return, but say nothing.