Creative Writing : Percival

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Percival stood hunched over the granite kitchen counter, using the mandolin to shave zucchini into paper-thin slices. With his eyes narrowed in determination, he stood before a mountain of vegetables, cheese, and a pot of homemade tomato sauce. However, the tension was obvious in his posture, and Gwaine worried if he tapped his fiancé’s shoulder, Percival would jump, lose focus, and a culinary disaster would ensue. “Um, babe?” Gwaine leaned against the kitchen doorframe and smiled at Percival. “What can I help you with?” “Can you grab more paper towels from the garage? Oh, and more dish soap.” “Sure, but what else can I help with? You look like you might snap.” Percival wiped off his hands on his apron and sighed. “Nothing. I’ll handle it.” “You’re clenching your jaw, and those shoulders of yours?” Gwaine strolled over and massaged Percival’s back. “They’re so tight, you’ll have muscle spasms at any moment. You need to calm down and let me help.” “I love you, I truly do, and you have many fine talents, but cooking is not one of them. Remember that salmon last week, and that sweet potato mash?” He shuddered. “What?” Gwaine couldn’t help but laugh. “They weren’t that terrible.” “Gwaine, the salmon was so tough that it bounced off the plate when I tried to cut it. And you accidentally dumped a tablespoon full of cayenne pepper into the mash. We almost died.” “That’s a little dramatic…” Percival shook his head. “Well, you did throw up,” Gwaine conceded. “Anyway,

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