The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending
Day#18: s p i c.e

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Korra had never been one to back down from a challenge. And this, if anything, was a challenge. A self-imposed duty. A trial by fire. An inevitable face-off. An Agni Kai against a formidable foe: the kitchen.

At the moment, the kitchen was winning.

And she couldn't be totally sure it was playing fair.

"Spirits! Not again!" she moaned, frantically bending soup back into an overflowing pot, its edges blackened by layers of crusty, burnt liquid. The whole simmering thing wasn't working out so well; Korra's impatience with the whole process meant the stovetop flames were always too strong, and they only blazed hotter with every passing minute, frustrated as she was. On her left her pork chops hissed and spat in their pan, browning far too quickly. A moment later she wrinkled her nose in disgust, belatedly dousing the flame with a sweep of her hand as those burned to an inedible crisp as well.

A thick, smoky odor permeated the small room and Korra shot an angry blast of air towards the closed window on the opposite wall. The shutters flew open with a satisfying bang, but the relief was short-lived when several eggs decided that was their cue to roll off the counter, cracking open and spilling their gooey yellow guts all over her boots.

"Monkey feathers!" she cursed loudly. She'd been saving those for the egg custard. Now it seemed she wouldn't even make it to the dining table, much less dessert. She snatched a ratty dishrag dangling from the edge of the sink and bent down, hurriedly scrubbing at the mess on her shoes and the floor.

A concerned pair of green eyes peeked cautiously out from around the corner, the rest of the burly earthbender edging carefully into her line of vision as if he were approaching a wild animal. "Um, is everything okay?" ventured Bolin, his voice unnaturally squeaky.

"Of course it is! I've got it all under control!" The glare she shot him could cut steel.

He took the hint and quickly backed away with a nervous grin, retreating to the living room.

"Just leave her be," came Mako's unconcerned murmur. It sounded cool and calm to her ears, which, for whatever reason, only served to irk her further. "She said she could do it herself."

"That's right, and I am!" she hollered back, bristling at his completely unhelpful attitude. All because she didn't have his homemaking prowess didn't mean he had to mock her ineptitude with that aggravatingly self-assured tone. She just needed more practice, more experience. And this was good experience!

The hiss of cooking oil called for her attention. She made a strangled growl in the back of her throat and gave the wok a sloppy stir. That might have been a bad idea. Chunks of partially-cooked vegetable and pig-chicken flew out and landed on the floor ten feet away.

"Monkey feathers on top of monkey feathers!" This was the worst experience ever.

This time Mako answered her cry, his approaching footsteps sure and steady on the hardwood floor. He crossed the threshold of the kitchen and leaned casually against the wooden frame of the doorway. Amber eyes swept silently over the scene before him. It was, quite frankly, a battlezone. He had the decency not to gloat—that wasn't his style, anyway—but no one could mistake the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up," she said bitterly, wiping unidentified goo out of her hair.

"I didn't say anything," he replied evenly, cocking his head at her.

She tossed her spatula unceremoniously at the wall; it fell to the counter below with a clatter. "But you were thinking it."

"I wasn't thinking anything," he shrugged.

"You weren't thinking anything very loudly," muttered Korra. A furrow formed between her brows as she placed her sticky hands on her hips, pouting. "It may look like a disaster, but I'm sure it'll all taste fine!" She hesitated. "Well, maybe if you scrape off all the black stuff..."

Mako smiled at her, raising an eyebrow. "Only one way to find out." He stepped over to the stove, lowered all the flames and scooped up a bit of soup with the ladle, raising it to his lips. Korra watched him as he sipped, observing the thoughtful expression on his face.

"Well? It's fine, right? I can take care of this mys—"

"It's kind of bland. It needs more of a kick. Some spice." He reached into the overhead cabinet and pulled out two unmarked bottles, sprinkling their contents into her soup with a practiced flick of his wrist.

"Wait! What are you doing? This was my meal, you said you wouldn't interfere," she protested as she clutched at his arm. Too late, though. "What is that stuff?"

"It's my dinner, too. I have to eat this later. I think that warrants a little interfering." He then dipped the ladle back into the pot and stirred vigorously before tasting again. Smacking his lips, he nodded in approval. "That's better."

"What'd you add?" She pulled the ladle towards herself and took a careful sip. Her eyes widened. "Hey, that's pretty good."

"Just a bit of pepper and dried parsley," replied Mako, amused.

"Hm. Nice trick. I didn't know I had to add spices." She leaned her head against his shoulder as she tasted the soup again, savoring the flavors on her tongue. "I was kind of caught up in, um, trying not to burn the kitchen down."

He laughed. "Maybe I should take care of the cooking from now on?"

"No way! If you can do it, so can I. You can teach me."

"And just a few minutes ago you said you didn't want any help." He took the ladle from her hands, replacing it on the counter.

"I changed my mind. New challenge," she replied adamantly, sticking out her tongue. She squinted up at the firebender. "So are you going to teach me or not, Cool Guy?"

He held out his hand, smirking. "Only if you promise to clean up."

She winced slightly and shook it, smiling sheepishly. "Deal."