Title: Stupid Pizza
Author: Manda
Rating: PG for some strong language and a ducky apron
Pairing: Racetrack/Crutchy
--->FEEDBACK:<--- Yes, please!^_^ You can eiher leave a review, email me at
koibito@moonman.com, or IM me on AIM at ThrusterJnD, FairyNympho or SpotDConlon. My yahooID is snapekoibito. This is my first newsies story, so please be nice to me, k?
Archive: Anywhere and everywhere, so long as you tell me.
Summary: Racetrack attempts to master the art of cooking a pizza. AU. Based on a real event.*coughcough*Lastnight'sdinner*coughcough*
Disclaimer: Oh, hot damn, I wish..... the pizza's mine though, since I bought, cooked, fought with and ate it.
A/N: This is all Ann's fault. If she hadn't been giggling like mad while I fought with the stupid pizza none of this would have happened. But it's okay. ^_^ It's about time I was finally able to write SOMETHING. Looks like my muse is finally awake. *bounces in happiness* But can you blame him? Even I'D wake up for pizza.

Stupid Pizza

Racetrack was ready to scream. He'd tried everything. He'd tried, cursing, screaming, crying, begging and even a very polite "Please?", but nothing seemed to be working. The black-boy sighed and determinedly picked up the spatula. Time to attempt to threaten and persuade. "Alright, let's get one thing straight. You are going to behave.
You WILL come off!" he glared determinedly at the pizza in front of him. It had gotten stuck somehow on a non-stick cookie sheet and refused to come off. At all. "Now," he warned it, "I'm going to poke this underneath you, and you will not resist! I will conquer!" And with that, he carefully attempted to slide the spatula under it. Nothing happened. Biting his lip, he tried it again, but with a little more this time. "Look, is this too much to ask! All I want is for you to come off the freaking sheet thingy so that I can feed my boyfriend!"

Racetrack attacked it again, curses flying from his mouth. "Goddamn it, you little fuck! I've been at this for over 15 minutes! What did I ever do to you? Yeah, so I put you in a very hot oven... big deal! It's what you were made to do, and it's what I had to do! Why are you holding my duty against me? This isn't fair! You're making me look bad!
Stupid piece of shi-" he paused when he heard muffled laughter from behind him. Racetrack turned to find his lover standing there in his "Kiss the cook, he's Irish" apron, giggling like crazy at him.

"What the Hell is so funny?!" he nearly screeched.

"Oh... nothing, nothing..." Crutchy giggled and looked away again as Racetrack glared back and forth between Crutchy and the pizza.

"Is this some kind of plot between you and our dinner?! This isn't funny!" he pouted, once again sending curses toward the pizza, his ducky apron flaring nicely as he turned, nearly covering the "KISS THIS" on the back of his boxers before settling back down in front to keep his bare chest warm. "Do YOU want to do this?!" Crutchy shook his head. "Then stop-- ah-HA! Got one side, you lousy bastard! I WILL conquer!" he
twisted the spatula, managing to get another part off, then another, until he skillfully had the whole thing balanced on his trusty spatula. The process took a good five minutes. He put it on a plate and turned back to glare at the second pizza.

"You will behave. You saw what I did to your friend over there. Don't make me mutilate you too! I don't think either of us would enjoy it very much, do you?" He pointedly ignored the snickering behind him. "Okay, now let's give this a try." Racetrack picked up the spatula, attempted to slide it under, and nearly burst into tears.

Cameron looked on, completely amused. His lover was talking your food?"

Racetrack turned slowly to look at him, counting to ten under his breath. "I--" he was about to reply with a witty, scathing remark, when his hand slipped off of the spatula and onto the hot cookie sheet. He hissed and pulled back his hand and Crutchy fell to the floor in a laughing fit. "SHIT! That hurts! Owieowieowieowieowieowieowie!!!" He dashed to the fridge and shoved his hand in the ice box, sighing in relief. "That feels so good."

Crutchy giggled in reply. "I imagine so," he replied, getting up from off the floor and walking over to the stove. The Irish boy picked up the spatula and deftly removed the pizza. He put it on the other plate and smiled at his lover. It was a damn good thing he was so loved by Racetrack, otherwise it would have been bye-bye, Crutchy. So he simply smiled his heart-meltingly angelic smile to assure that Racetrack wouldn't
attempt murder with the pizza cutter. "Thanks for loosening it for me, love! I appreciate it!" He kissed his cheek and left to sit in the dining room.

Racetrack glared. "Stupid pizza," he growled, stalking into the dining room after his boyfriend.