-1Matt was up late that night, pouring over files and pictures. Mohinder had just come home from yet another foreign country, and was blearily fixing himself a cup of tea when he noticed the pile of dishes stacked haphazardly in the sink.

"Did anyone do the dishes while I was out?" he cried.

The blank look Matt shot him was more than answer enough.

The dry one Mohinder sent back (along with some truly vicious thoughts) was likewise a better retort than the situation really warranted.

"We really need a dishwasher," Matt protested.

"We really need to wash the dishes," Mohinder replied.

"Which a dishwasher could do."

"Where would we even put a dishwasher?"

That was a fair point. The apartment was designed for the stereotypical starving artist; one who could not hold a steady relationship, and therefore did not need room for two, let alone three people, and who choose paint and varnish over meals, and therefore needed negligible counter surface.

"You know what I saw on TV the other day?"

"Hannah Montana?"

"No," Matt said, in the voice he used when Molly was being difficult about going to sleep or brushing her teeth. "A dishwasher that fit in your sink. We could get one of those."

"Wouldn't one of those necessitate the sink being empty?"

"Only while we were installing it. We could probably find somewhere to stick those things temporarily."

"And leave the dishes out overnight?"

"Yeah, why not? It's what Molly and I did all week."

"We'll get cockroaches."

"We have cockroaches. And they aren't falling for the motel anymore."

"Great. Now they'll start breeding."

"Mohinder, one more night isn't going to kill anything. I'll run over to Lowe's tomorrow during my lunch break, and we'll deal with it then."

Matt rose up stiffly from his seat at the table and placed his empty coffee mug on top of the plates in the sink. Almost immediately, the entire conglomerate became to screech, and lean precariously over the side.

"Whoa!" Matt cried, pushing the plates back into a semi-stable position. Mohinder sent him an unimpressed look.

"So, uh…I'll wash, and you'll dry?" he said sheepishly.

Half an hour later found the pair quietly scrubbing away at the dishes. This was not an easy task; Matt had tried and actually succeeded in making spaghetti several nights hence, and by now the noodles had dried and plastered themselves to anything and everything they had come in contact with. Matt had broken out the Brillo pad, and was now diligently scrubbing away at a bowl. Mohinder tried his best to ignore the spasm-inducing sound of steel wool on china.

"So, did anything happen while I was out?" he asked finally.

"Molly won the spelling bee."

"Good for her!" Mohinder said approvingly, taking the newly cleaned bowl and wiping it with the towel.

"She didn't do so well on her science test, though. Only a 78. Don't be too hard on her though; she convinced that you'll be furious."

"Did she study?"

"From dinner until bedtime. And even then, she snuck her textbook into bed with her and studied with a flashlight until she fell asleep."

"Hm…"

Matt put down the Brillo pad and turned so he was facing Mohinder. "She's really, really afraid you'll be disappointed with her."

"Okay."

"Like, there were tears when she came out of school."

"Matt, I get it! If she really worked that hard at it-"

"She did," Matt assured him, tapping his forehead. "Believe me, she did."

"Then there isn't a problem." Mohinder finished. "What, did you think I would do, ground her from not getting the material?"

"Well, she certainly got that impression," Matt huffed. "And I've been listening to her freak out about it for three days now, so excuse me."

"You're excused."

Matt glowered, and splashed some water from the sink at him.

"Hey!" Mohinder cried, thwapping him with the towel.

Matt grabbed the towel and snapped it back at him. Thinking quickly, Mohinder grabbed the faucet, pointing it at the other man and turning on the water.

"Ack!" Matt yelled as the lukewarm water hit him.

"Ha!" Mohinder said triumphantly. Matt's glower intensified, until he noticed the pot on the edge of the sink. He'd found it impossible to get to noodles out of it, so he'd filled it to the brim with water and decided to let it soak. Then his eyes took on another sort of gleam entirely.

"Don't you dare!" Mohinder warned, holding the spray nozzle in front of him. "I'm warning you…"

Matt didn't seem to mind much about his warnings, however. He picked up the pot and quickly through it's entire contents at Mohinder, who was not quite quick enough to get out of the way.

"Oh, that's it!" Mohinder spluttered, blowing a limp strand of spaghetti out of his face. "Prepare to get soaked!"

But, before he could carry out his promise, the two of them were interrupted.

"What are you two, six?" Molly demanded, hand on her hip. There was a pool of water on the floor by now, soaking into her pink socks. "It's three in the morning!"

The two men looked at each other, embarrassed. Sheepishly, Matt put down the pot; Mohinder replaced the faucet.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Matt offered after a while. "We can all sleep in late…"

"Which is good, because now we're going to have to clean this up on top of doing the dishes," Mohinder said pointedly.

"Why are you thinking at me like that?" Matt asked, offended. "You started it!"

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did-"

"Right," Molly drawled. "Well, Matt left the towels in the dryer downstairs…"

Mohinder sent him another one of his dry looks.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Matt huffed, squishing his way past the counter and out of the door.

Mohinder and Molly looked at each other.

"You have a…" Molly indicated her ear. Mohinder reached up on the side of his head, and came away with one extremely slimy noodle.

"Ew…" he moaned, dropping it into the garbage with a disgusted look.

Molly grinned.

"Welcome home, Mohinder."