Work Text
“Hey Eli, you want to come over?” Steve said into his phone before Eli could answer. “I have food.”“Sure, give me a couple minutes to ask my mom and grab my stuff.” There was a faint smell of burnt starch wafting through Steve’s house, and when Eli poked his head into the kitchen he saw a pot overflowing with spaghetti. “Steve, I think that’s too much.”Steve shrugged. “Did I overestimate the amount of pasta? Yes! Am I sad about it? Absolutely not!”“Uh-huh.” Eli walked over to assess the damage. “Steve, how many boxes did you make?”“Only one.”“And how many servings were there in the box?”“Why does that matter? We’re constantly having to fight random creepers all the time, we need the calories!”Eli’s gaze crept from the pot to Steve. Right. As much as he just wanted to hang out with his friend as two regular dudes, they were the Creepslayerz and had to deal with threats. For now, however, the threat was just too much spaghetti.
“Steve.”
“I don’t know it’s on the box,” Steve huffed, even as he walked over to the trash and pulled out the instructions. “Oh.”“How bad?”“Apparently this box had over thirty servings in it.”Eli’s jaw dropped. “Thirty servings! How did you not know that?”“I don’t know, I only started cooking - like, actual cooking, not just the microwave - around the time we helped evacuate Trollmarket!” He lowered his voice significantly. “My dad wanted me to focus on other stuff.”“Well, I guess you’ve made dinner for the next week.”The pictures of the extraterrestrials remained untouched as the two boys talked.