"skimmons + "i'm 75% sure this won't explode on us""
disclaimed
the one with disastrous cooking
...
"Oh, relax," Skye huffs. "I'm, like, seventy five percent sure this won't explode on us."
Jemma snorts. "You say as you shield yourself."
"It's just a souffle."
"But you used alien ingredients. Why did you use alien ingredients?"
The creation bubbles—roils and whistles, and Skye jumps back, almost hiding behind Jemma when she reaches her. "I thought they were normal," she whispers. "Until it started to whistle."
"You were going to feed me that?" Jemma laughs, twisting to give Skye an incredulous look.
"Oh, like you can cook any better!"
"Well at least I don't mix up alien ingredients and regular ingredients!"
The souffle swells. Moves over the edges of the ramekin, crawling across the counter.
"Should—ah—?" Jemma stumbles back, shoving Skye back with her, towards the doorway of the kitchen. "Should we call May?"
That's when the souffle explodes, scattering pieces of itself across the room. Each smaller piece begins to move of its own accord, crawling along walls, the floor, chairs—one piece crawls sluggishly along Jemma shoulder.
"Shit!" Skye shrieks, flicking the souffle baby off of her girlfriend's shoulder. She grabs her hand, tugs her out the door. The souffle creatures roar behind them.
"MAY!"