13y, 8m, 3w
Operator’s Barracks, HMS Sharman, Folctha, Cimbrean
Daar, Champion and Stud-Prime of Stoneback
Daar drifted out of sleep on a lazy Saturday morning, the very last such day before the JETS team deployed on their first reconnaissance mission. Tensions were high, needless to say, and Daar in particular was a bouncy, nervous menace before his first combat mission with the Humans.
Still, lazy Saturdays were the BEST and Daar would take full advantage before he consigned himself to the high gravity, mud, cold weather, rain, and possible infections of the class-11 world they were heading to.
None of which was on Daar’s mind at that moment. He and Vandenberg slept in luxuriantly late, waking to the smell of sizzling bacon, warm syrup, eggs…Daar’s eyes snapped open as the glorious scent caressed his nose, tickling his brain in all the right ways. Bacon!
“Rebar! C’mon, wake up!” Daar snuffled at Rebar, who did not respond; unsurprising, since the big man was a very heavy sleeper. No matter, Daar knew just the trick. He gently nosed Vandenberg on the cheek, a thing the Gaoian discovered long ago would instantly awaken the big Human. This was risky, it must be said; Rebar’s wrath could be legendary. But fortunately for Daar, Vandenberg was already beginning to stir.
Daar could hardly contain himself. He was very much a morning being and this morning had bacon, which was the best thing EVER. “FOOD! BREAKFAST! C’MON, GIT UP, GIT TO THE KITCHEN!” Vandenberg looked at the massively bouncy Gaoian and puzzled; something in his tone and word choice stirred an old memory. Rebar swore he’d seen this movie before.
But Rebar, apparently, did not appreciate Daar’s courteous wake-up assistance. He grumbled and shoved the massive beast off. “Mmmpf, fuck, gerrof Tigger!” Rebar rubbed at his eyes blearily and roll-fell out of bed, then shambled off to the latrine to relieve himself. Daar pounced out of bed and did the same.
Rebar was a man who took a while to regain full function, like a huge, heaving engine of doom. All the humans seemed that way to Daar, except maybe Murray.
Murray was scary. Perfectly friendly. Kind, even. But scary.
Rebar veered towards his shop—his usual Saturday morning routine—when he finally caught scent of the cooking bacon. “Fuck. Too early for this shit. I need coffee. And breakfast.”
“They’re making pancakes!”
“Yeah, I can smell it. C’mon,” he chuckled, “Let’s get some before ‘Horse eats it all.” They both thumped happily to the kitchen, Daar with his usual bouncy, whirl-around-the-friend motion, and Vandenberg with his plodding, heavy steps.
Regaari and Warhorse were hard at work in the kitchen while Righteous, fresh from his workout, was already shoveling food into his face, a huge mug of steaming black coffee in hand. And down the hall, Daar could hear the other men stirring, too. The men were, as usual, boisterous, happy, and conversing about important things. Like food.
The Duo walked in right as The Giant was making a point. Firth paused while everyone greeted each other, then waved his coffee cup around dangerously and resumed the conversation. “Anyway, like I was tellin’ you boys, waffles are better, and Horse can back me up, even if he has crap taste in ‘em. Fuckin’ Eggos man.”
“HEY. Eggos are amazing. Do I need to beat ‘yer ass silly?” He waved his spatula in a mock-threatening gesture. “Maybe some wrasslin’ time?”
“Pff, bring it, beefcube. I’ll kick ‘yer ass all over the gym!” The two men chuckled and returned to their tasks: Arés to his eggs, Firth his bacon and waffles.
“I see you two are uncivilized brutes,” chittered Regaari with a friendly tone, “Who cannot appreciate the magnificence of a perfectly cooked, lightly seasoned griddle cake. Layer it in butter and this excellent ‘maple’ syrup of yours…”
Daar had to admit that sounded pretty good. He began to drool as he listened. Meanwhile, Vandenberg wobbled his way toward the coffee. How the horribly bitter brew worked, Daar did not know, but its powers seemed almost magical. Within a few sips he knew Rebar would be back to his friendly, bemused self.
“Hey,” smirked Firth, “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with pancakes. Sometimes I like somethin’ sweet an’ simple. But waffles are just better an’ you can’t convince me otherwise.”
Daar snuck over to ‘Horse and begged off some bacon, eggs, and a nice stack of warm pancakes. He headed to the table with his treasures and began applying butter and syrup. And strawberry jam. Pancakes always got strawberry jam.
Regaari looked at Daar. He had just begun shoveling pancakes into his face obliviously and was eating with the aggressive determination only the Humans could match. “What say you, Cousin? Pancakes are superior, yes?”
Daar paused, fork halfway to his mouth. He looked down at his food, then back at Regaari, then back at his food. He whined, very slightly. “Um…I guess I like waffles more. Nooks and crannies! You can stuff more flavor onto them.”
Regaari regarded him with a measured gaze and a half-grin. “But pancakes are smooth and fluffy! Nice and easy on the digestion, while waffles are just too uncivilized for any proper Gaoian.”
“Ha! Since when was I ever proper?” He paused and scritched at his left ear with his rear foot-paw. An impressive feat, considering he was seated on the corner of the bench.
Regaari’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly.
Daar continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “Besides, I’d rather be uncivilized and live like a Gaoian is meant to live. I mean, you won’t even run on all fours ‘less Horse over there makes ‘ya! Also, waffles are tougher. They can take lots more butter, an’ more butter is better!” Daar tilted his head and looked at Arés, “Which do you prefer, Warhorse?”
Arés turned around and smiled somewhat strangely at Firth. “Oh, I’m not picky, pancakes or waffles is fine by me. Just, y’know, s’long as I get a lot of breakfast.”
Firth grinned just as strangely. “Mhmm. Can’t go wrong with all-day breakfast!”
The tone was…different. Daar suspected there was a joke at play.
“Hell, several times a day! Just bacon and waffles, over and over…”
“See, I knew I liked you for a reason.” Firth giggled into his waffles and resumed his ravenous bacon-feeding.
Regaari looked at Daar. He was just as confused.
At that point, Murray padded in like a whisper and joined the conversation. “What about crepes?”
Firth chuckled darkly. “You take that communist surrender-monkey bullshit outta here. Real men eat real breakfast.” He wore what the humans called a ‘shit-eating’ grin. Quite how the humans came up with such a concept was beyond Daar’s ken, but the mere thought of it made him chitter deeply. Maybe that was the point?
“Pff,” scoffed Warhorse. “Crepes are lame, all thin and flaccid. How could anyone be satisfied by that?”
Murray grinned, “It’s no’ the crepe that’s important, it’s what ye’ do with it.”
“Baloney! Ain’t much you can do with something so…tiny.”
Firth snorted into his coffee while Vandenberg pressed the point. “See, this is the problem. You’re so used to a big…breakfast…that you don’t see the possibilities. Different, uh, flavors…” He broke out giggling.
“No finesse,” agreed Murray with a grin, “That’s your trouble. Just slam it down, as much and as hard as you can.”
“Hey, I’m a big boy with big appetites. And I don’t hear anyone complain about my…breakfast.” He laughed, “Also! None of you here are exactly known for their petite habits. Well, except Murray—” there was a good-natured scoff from the Scot, and cat-calls from the other men, “But he’s not a ‘Murrican so it ain’t his fault.”
Murray retorted with a grin. “Better skilled than oversized an’ overfed.” In the meanwhile, Arés had produced an enormous stack for Murray. The Scot looked at the breakfast tower and raised his eyebrow incredulously.
Firth jumped back into the fray. “Hey, leave the poor man alone. He’s a growin’ boy an’ he needs nice, hearty portions! As much and as often as he can get ‘em, too. Is it any wonder he likes to offer such large…servings?” Again with the enormous grin.
Rebar had a retort at the ready. “Oh, sure. Some like it. Others go staggering home holding their belly and saying ‘never again’ because you stuffed them too full.”
Warhorse glared at Rebar in a not-unfriendly manner, who along with Righteous, could barely hold back their laughter.
“See, that’s the thing, ‘yer doin’ it wrong,” commented Firth between mouthfuls of bacon. “A big stack of waffles, y’need as much grease as you can get. Makes it go down easier.” He smirked at Regaari and Murray, “Sounds like waffles are too challenging for ‘yer delicate mouths to take. Heh.”
Horse chuckled over by the stove while Murray smiled and shook his head, knowing better. But Regaari took the bait. “My mouth can handle waffles just fine, you great brute. I simply have more refined tastes.”
It took considerable restraint on everyone’s part not to comment. Firth, on the other hand…
“Gotta make sure you fill all the holes with lots of cream, though.”
Daar jumped in obliviously. “Oh, yeah! Fill every single little square with as much butter as it can take! Then smear jam all over the top!” Daar eyed the waffle iron with a growing hunger.
“Mmm,” grumbled Firth. “Kinky.”
Adam burst out laughing over by the stove. Daar and Regaari looked at each other in silence, then sighed.
Humans.