( Hell yeah he did. It’s not everyday the youngest son of Sparda slaps an apron on and lets loose in the kitchen and while not a special occasion for his reason doing this, still isn’t everyday one catches him like this. Hell, he can’t even really remember the last time he did something like this for himself…. probably never. Unless heating up pre-packaged food counts.

He waits for his brother to get himself comfortable — hands clasped behind his back then with blue eyes sparkling with both curiosity and a certain sort of anxiety over whether or not he’ll like any of this. He knows the suspicion is there — that he’s probably wondering what led to his wanting to suddenly do this out of the blue, but. He just stands there and waits, smiling like when they were kids and he was waiting for Vergil to give into his wanting to play with him.

Chuckle on his lips, he leans across the table some, bracing himself on a hand as he plucks a knife up and starts to cut into the lasagna there. )

Can’t a guy just wanna do something for his brother and not want something out of it? We’re not eight anymore.

( Debatable with how they get sometimes, but.

Cutting into the lasagna, tongue sticking out a little with his concentration, he shovels a good sized portion out of the glass dish and plops it down on the plate there in front of Vergil, splashing some of the tomato sauce as he does. A chuckle, he cringes. )

Whoops. Heh.

( With the pad of his thumb, he brushes away the splash of sauce that got him on the cheek and licks it off, making a pleased little noise as he does before he eagerly points to the dish. )

That right there is culinary art.

( Another chuckle, he straightens himself up and stands there, lips pressed together as he anxiously waits… for his brother to give it a try. )