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Your friendly neighborhood Xander-shaped friend. (xander_shaped) wrote in wariscoming,

Ah, the complex kitchen. He and it had so many wonderful memories of mornings, afternoons, and evenings spent together. Between the peanut butter and jelly, the ice cream sandwiches, and the macaroni and cheese souffles, he and the kitchen were tight. Traditionally, Xander spent more time in the complex kitchen than his own. Mostly because it came equipped with a microwave, had more food than his own apartment, and was easier to access on his way in and out of the building. Tiredly, Xander trudged into the downstairs kitchen. He was already dressed up for work - plaid shirt, jeans, work boots, and a hard hat tucked under his arm all ready to go - but he had a little time to kill with his usual morning routine before he left. A cup of coffee, maybe a bowl of cereal, and a glimpse at the morning paper if someone happened to leave a copy on the kitchen table. Someone usually did too; it was always right there, sitting at the center of the table usually with little things like produce ads and vigilante articles open, looking very much like the things that the person in charge of the newspaper had been reading before their departure. Whoever it was happened to be a definite early bird, of which Xander was thankful for. He didn't have to bother asking for the newspaper when he needed it. Mostly.

Yet when Xander got into the kitchen, it wasn't the newspaper that he found waiting for him at the table. It was Dick. He walked over to one of the empty spots and sat his hard hat down, then turned to the fridge somewhat tiredly. The work day was going to be long and things were going to be all the more worse when he got back and had to deal with other things. Seeing Dick reminded him of those other things too. Babs. Hellhounds. A whole lotta dangerous, time consuming work that would possibly end up in them all being eaten alive. Oh joy of joys. Xander pulled out a carton of milk from the refrigerator and glanced over at Dick curiously.

"Pizza, huh? Not a bad breakfast. Plenty of nutrition." Xander set the carton onto the table and went in search of a box of cereal. He could remember plenty of times where he himself had dished out for strange meals in the morning. Ice cream on pancakes, pizza with a side of scrambled eggs...what? He was a grown man! He could eat whatever he wanted and no one could tell him different.