A/N: For Kainora Week day 2: "Wonder."
Kai has never baked before.
Jinora learns this five minutes in as she begins to mix the batter for the cookies they intend to present to Korra.
"Kai, could you bring me the vanilla extract?"
"Hmm?" responds Kai, voice muffled; he vanished into the cupboard immediately and hasn't emerged since.
"It's the little brown bottle with the flowers on the front," guides Jinora, squinting at the cookbook while she traces her fingers down the other ingredients she needs.
As she begins to cream together the butter and sugar, Kai deposits a collection of items on the table with a ceremonious clatter. Shakers roll on their side; Jinora manages to save them from hitting the ground with a well-directed air swipe.
She raises an eyebrow, fingers searching for the proper item. "Kai, what is all this?"
His green eyes spark eagerly. "There's just so much," he gestures, grabbing the cinnamon powder and waving it in her face. "I mean, sea prune extract? I've always wanted to try that." He unscrews the cap and tilts his head back, letting a drop fall on his tongue.
Jinora bursts out laughing as his expression contorts in shock. Sheepishly, Kai rubs the back of his neck, grimacing as he sets the bottle back down. "Okay, well, that wasn't what I expected."
"You can keep experimenting, just hand me the chocolate chips while you're at it," smiles Jinora.
"Oh, fire flakes!"
"Not so many, Kai—"
Her warning arrives too late. Kai's face balloons—he gasps, coughing and spluttering, face going red, and rushes to the sink.
Sighing, Jinora sets the bowl of batter down and walks to the sink, where she turns on the water for Kai, who fumbles blindly as his eyes stream with tears. He gives her a deep look of gratitude before splashing as much water as he can into his mouth, gargling.
"Lot—hotter—than—I thought—"
Jinora whaps him with the towel. "That's what you get, silly. Now why don't you actually help me with the cookies?"
Kai dries his hands and the front of his tunic as best he can before joining her, elbows bumping hers as she pushes the ingredients aside to clear more space on the table. Jinora passes the bowl to him, handing him the spoon as she adds the vanilla, each dark drop soaking into the creamy yellow mix.
They work in companionable silence; Jinora sets out the trays, covering them in foil, while Kai mixes, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.
After a while, he speaks up. "Sorry about getting carried away earlier. It's just, I've never done this before…" Kai trails off, but there is wonder in his voice as he looks around the kitchen—the sparkling tabletops, the polished floors, the dark wood of the cupboards stocked plentifully, open and inviting.
Meanwhile, Jinora looks wonderingly at him, because she forgets, sometimes. Forgets that he isn't all soft edges and sheepish smiles—that he had a life before laughter and baking and airbending, a life of meager scraps and crooked, dirty streets.
So when Kai suggests they throw in cinnamon and mint and sprinkles and coconut shavings and raisins and all manners of things not called for in the recipe, Jinora goes along. Later, they'll make a second batch for Korra, but this mix belongs to them: a hodgepodge of items, scattered and random but well-intentioned. Sweet.
Somehow, the two of them end up with flour in their hair and, emboldened, Jinora reaches into the bowl and smears some of the cookie dough across Kai's face before swooping in and kissing him quickly on the cheek.
If she could bottle the shade of red his face turns, she'd add it to their cookies.