The room smelled like an odd mixture of vanilla, cinnamon sugar, and of the misplaced smell of basil all at the same time. Although, he supposed that fact in itself may very well have been chalked up to the fact he had spent the better part of the evening hard at work. Topaz hues shifted towards the clear, boiling water. Thin strands of noodles coming to life from their original state, only the slightest of smiles curving upon his lips before he turned to turn off the food processor. Tumultuous waves of forest green settled down, flecks of dark green left behind to dot the pesto sauce. Silently, Camille could only pray that the sauce was a decent consistency. Not too thick, but not too thin either. Wouldn't have quite done the rest of the food any justice. His gaze turned towards the plate of parmesan encrusted chicken cooling on the counter before towards the red, green, and yellow bell peppers that had been de-seeded and sliced into slivers. Elliot liked peppers, right? At least, he hoped he did. It would be a few moments longer before hands went to turn off the stove, handles taken and the pasta was drained out into the colander waiting in the sink. 

It was night now, he thought. Late at night, in fact. Perhaps it was his fault for having kept the other waiting. He had neglected to make a phone call and tell the other that he was going to come home late. Class had ran a little longer than he had thought it would have and to make matters worse, his professor had insisted on having a very, very in depth conversation with him after it had. Something about his grades, something about his concern with the tattoo that had made itself present on his collarbone. He wasn't proud of it himself. How could he be proud of something like that, after all? It wasn't the kind of life that he would have chosen if he had a choice. But it seemed like the fates had chosen a different path for him, binding him to the slumbering redhead resting soundlessly on the couch. Elliot, he thought. He picked such a reckless and dangerous life for the both of them, he thought. Was he always so reckless? But maybe, he thought. Just maybe that this was to protect them both from the most dangerous people there were on the island. They could only protect themselves by becoming them. Maybe that was why he had chosen this life. A small sigh as he looked over his shoulder, lips tipping into a small smile.

Even if this wasn't what he wanted, he supposed he couldn't deny that he was happy being with Elliot the way that they were now. It was only, really, times like this when he was most comfortable with the way things were.

Turning to the stove, he waited for the pan to heat before tossing in the peppers and the pasta. Drizzling the pesto sauce over and tossing the pasta until he was at last content with it and certain that everything had been evenly cooked before dishing it up and setting several pieces of chicken on each plate. The strawberry marscarpone cupcakes were still baking in the oven, he thought. Elliot had some fondness for sweets, so hopefully it'd make up for making the other wait for him to come home. Wiping off his hands on a dish towel before heading over to the couch, Camille knelt down beside it before leaning down. Gently brushing his lips against the other's, nose gently nudging against his. "Wake up, Ellie. I'm home." Yes, it was time like this when he was happiest because whenever he was with Elliot. It felt like he was home.