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“No, Batcher,” Omega laughed, hauling the giant lurca hound into her arms.
The hound’s hind legs dangled helplessly as she was awkwardly carried out of the kitchen by the eldest clone. Omega had just barely grown enough that Batcher’s paws weren’t dragging across the floor, but the hound was still much too big, and Omega much too small, to be carried like a baby.
As they left to find Batcher something to do, they passed Shep and Lyana bringing in fresh ingredients.
“Is this all you need?” Shep asked, setting the basket on the counter.
Hunter was quick to start sorting through it, holding out a large jar of coconut cream behind him that Stak snatched up and took over to his station with his brothers. Mox had also snuck over, grabbing the fish from Lyana’s basket and a small jar of salt.
“Can we start?” Stak asked once the last ingredients hit the table. “Our fish has to sit for an hour once we’re done.”
Crosshair clicked his tongue, looming over the younger clones to see the recipe Shep had written out for them. “We told you not to pick anything too long.”
“But it was so good when we had it the other day,” Deke reasoned, earning an eye roll from Crosshair.
“Go ahead.”
“Yes!” The younger clones cheered, turning to start on their vegetables.
The members of the Bad Batch watched quietly as Stak washed the vegetables and handed them off to his brothers for slicing. Shep noticed the way Deke was struggling to cut the tomato, not sure how to stabilize it, so he offered help. All six boys watched as he carefully cut it in half to lay it flat, then curled his fingers so he didn’t slice them off as he diced the tomato. He did one half, then guided Deke through the other, before stepping back to let him try the next one.
Mox, after watching how Shep cut the tomato, started working on the first onion.
“You have to peel it first,” Lyana piped up, coming to stand on the other side of their table.
She picked up the second onion and scraped her nails along it a few times to break the flaky skin and peel it away.
Just as Mox was about to peel his own onion, the door slammed shut loudly. Everyone whipped around, falling into old habits; Mox picked his knife back up, and Deke shifted his grip to a more combat ready one. Hunter had reached for the only knife on their kitchen counter, and Wrecker reached for a nearby chair from the dining table that they’d pushed against a wall to make space.
Omega was braced against the door, breathing heavily. She looked up, seemingly calm, if not out of breath. Certainly not distressed.
“Batcher was chasing me,” she explained with a tired exhale, straightening, and brushing her hair from her face. “Sorry.”
There was a collective sigh of relief from the other clones. Now Batcher-free,Omega went to check out what everyone was up to.
“Not cooking with them?” Lyana asked when Omega came up beside her to watch the youngest clones cut vegetables.
They were a little mangled, and there was nothing uniform about them, but Omega grabbed a few pieces to share with Lyana. The girls agreed that they tasted fine.
“Nah, I’m the judge! We had to keep the teams even.”
“Wrecker, less water! Less water!” Crosshair scolded. “Ugh, that’s way too much.”
“Well I’m sorry. It didn’t say how much to add!”
“Because you’re supposed to test it as you go.”
“It’s fine, Crosshair, we’ll just improvise,” Hunter interjected, stepping in before things could escalate. “We’re good at that. Shep?” The island elder turned at Hunter’s call, tilting his head to ask, Yes? Hunter clarified, “We can just add more flour to fix it, right?”
The three observers joined the Batchers and peered down at their efforts – in a bowl with flour and too much water. Shep seemed to be considering it very seriously before he nodded.
“It might not puff up the same, but you can definitely make it work.”
“This time, I’m adding it.”
Crosshair grabbed the scoop from the jar of flour and carefully added a bit in, then let Wrecker mix everything together. When the dough still looked a bit too wet they added a little more before Wrecker tested it once more.
After double checking with Shep, they dumped it onto the counter-
“Isn’t it going to stick?” Omega asked.
“Blast.”
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch Scratch. Thump.
Crosshair quickly began scraping the knife under the dough, grimacing as pieces were left stuck to the counter, while Shep and Lyana laughed. Omega grabbed the flour scoop and tried to sprinkle some under the place Crosshair had lifted, while Hunter tried lifting it from the other side. They only succeeded in folding it over itself, which was not something they needed to do.
The other table had stopped what they were doing, which at this point was just combining ingredients, to laugh.
When they finally got the dough to stop sticking to everything, they cut it into smaller pieces, then they fried it. Which is where Omega finally stepped in to help – with help from Lyana – while the boys cleaned everything up.
Testing a piece, Omega quickly discovered the degree of their success.
“Hot! Hot!” Omega’s muffled cries startled everyone again. She took a few quick and shallow breaths while fanning her hand in front of her mouth.
Lyana laughed. “Of course it’s hot, I told you to let it cool.”
She finished frying up the last of the dough while Omega tried to eat her scalding mouthful and nurse her burnt tongue. Then Lyana set the plate on the table with a stern warning that it was hot, pointedly looking at Omega which made everyone else laugh.
They would definitely have to make more fried bread before the fish was done, but for now they would just enjoy the fruits of their labor.
“Batcher, get your paws off the table!”
The lurca hound’s tongue was hanging out as she tried to steal one of the pieces of fried bread. She must have snuck in during the commotion Omega had caused by burning her tongue, and now she was making eye contact as she continued to reach for the food.
“Noo,” Hunter warned, “Batcher.”
“Paws, off, the table,” Omega reminded, waiting for Batcher to correct herself.
She didn’t, instead only freezing briefly before inching ever closer to the plate and an overhanging piece of food.
“Alright, that’s enough.”
Crosshair pulled the hound from the table, leading her into a corner where he set down a plate of fish scraps.
“That’s your food.”