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Mael was a little bothered by something lately.
When he thought back on the fake memories he had been given to try to keep the Estarossa act going, there seemed to be a detail that didn't really made sense for him:
Where did the terrible cooking-Meliodas came from?
It was not a memory replacing Ludociel with Meliodas, that he could tell, and it was surely not one of Zeldris memory's repackaged for him, right? Ludociel was not that bad whenever he did try to cook something.
Granted, in the few times him and Meliodas could relax (in a way) around each other during the war, neither had ever brought up the topic of cooking, so it was not like Mael had first hand experience with his lover's culinary skill...
But cooking could not be that hard, and the fake memories made Meliodas look like anything he touched would become straight up poisonous, was that an internal joke he was failing to get due to not actually living with them? Had there ever been an incident where the eldest prince had failed atrosciously at a plate to the point it became a running gag to pretend everything he ever cooked would be like that??
Mael did his best to ignore the doubt for some months, deciding it wasn't worth bothering Meliodas or the others over.
Until one day when he was laying on the blonde's bed, early on the morning, and his mouth acted faster than his mind.
— Hey, Meliodas, can I try your food? —
Meliodas, who was getting dressed for the day, made a full body pause, as if the mere question was the more shocking thing anyone had ever asked him in his three thousand years alive. The demon turned around, incredulous, and looked at him for a long minute. Was he trying to read his face searching for a joke?
When he noticed his lover was being serious, the prince laughed. Not a polite or dismissive laugh, those he had perfected after millenia walking around humans, no, a genuine laugh.
— sate sate sate...and why would you want to do that to yourself hm? — he finally answered, out of breath.
Mael blinked twice, not understanding at all why would his question ever been taken as a joke, had he accidentally been sarcastic? No, he was pretty sure his tone had been leveled.
— Well, I...You know how I got a lot of fake memories that were mostly you edited on top of Ludociel or Zeldris's memories re packaged, right? —
— Yep —
— There was, quite a few where you cooked something and it turned to be terrible —
— So you saw everyone suffering due to my brilliantly horrible plates and still want a try? —
The archangel rolled his eyes, though a small smile betrayed the annoyance he felt.
— I want to verify if its truly that bad or I am just being pranked by my memories, Mel —
Meliodas seemed to think about it for a minute, hand on chin, his beautiful emerald eyes closed. Oh come on, it couldn't be that terrible, why is he being so dramatic?.
After what felt like an eternity, Meliodas clasped his hands.
— Fine then, but I dont accept complaints! —
Why would he ever complain about the food of the man he loved? Little dramatic demon..
.
.
.
.
Mael sat obediently in one of the tavern's tables as Meliodas worked in the kitchen.
Now, he is no expert in the matters of cooking, but he is pretty sure he heard the sound of a sword slash, a tone he was pretty familiar with, and he is quite sure those don't belong on that space.
Maybe Meliodas just swung a knife a little too hard?
. . .Did he just heard a jump? Why is he jumping on the kitchen?
"—dammit, where did I left the damn spice?—" coming from behind the bar made him chuckle a little.
After waiting for a while simply listening in to his lover do. . .something, in the kitchen, Meliodas finally returned to him.
The plate looked....delicious.
He wasn't exactly sure which plate it was, having been out of the loop for quite a few millenia, but the presentation made it look like it had just been cooked by the royal chef's for princess Elizabeth's birthday. His stomach growled a little at the sight, anxious to take a bite.
This was the culinary skills Meliodas described as horrible? He was expecting a burnt plate, or something clearly raw when it shouldn't be, but the dish seemed perfectly well cook!
Yeah, he was definitely being the victim of a prank here.
— Here it is, enjoy your meal and good luck sunshine —
He wanted to roll his eyes again, but was a little too focused on the plate infront of him.
So he cut a bit, blowed to make sure it wasn't too hot, and...
Oh
For
The
Supreme
Deity
And
Her
Grandma.
Mael had always prided himself on not being a picky eater, and being able to stomach a lot of food others don't really like (he had mastered that in an attempt to get Ludociel's praise), but that gorgeous plate was....too much. He had to throw himself to the nearest window to not vomit in the floor of the tavern.
It can't be physically possible for a plate to taste this bad.
— So, how was it? — His precious little shit of a lover asked, probably really smug.
— h...hopital....—
.
.
.
.
Luckily for Mael, Elizabeth arrived like three minutes later, and the last archangel did not die to his not-boyfriend terrible, poisonous-on-contact, abomination of culinary skills.