"Ridiculous."
"Regina…"
"This is ridiculous."
"Well, I can't hold a grand ball in my newly restored castle and not feed my guests, now, can I?" Maleficent throws back with an amused smile.
"You're being ridiculous."
"You're quite fond of that word today."
"I know how to cook, Mal. I don't need a class."
"Humor me, dear," the she-dragon insists, and Regina huffs out a frustrated breath, but grabs the ugly apron hanging by the fireplace and puts it on, walking towards the kitchen table, where a scared-looking young man waits for them, ingredients laid out for them to use.
"Your majesty," he greets respectfully, then looks at Mal and bows, "mistress."
They greet him in turn, wait for him to start the lesson, and Mal steps back for a moment, watching Regina as she measures and sifts and mixes and stirs, forming a symphony of sorts as she follows the kitchen boy's instructions and adds a little flavor of her own by playing around with a few spices.
It's hard to believe that only six months ago she'd been so lifeless, thrown over her chaise by the fire, cold and alone and unwilling to put herself back together… and then this girl -no, this woman, this queen- had shown up and turned her world on its axis. She'd helped her get back her fire, helped her reclaim her lands, restore her power. She'd found something to live for again, and while Maleficent would insist out loud that that something was revenge, deep in her heart she knew that was not it. In fact, it wasn't even a something at all, but a someone. The someone currently whisking some delicious concoction in a bowl and dipping a finger in it, bringing it to her lips to taste the fruits of her labor.
She seems satisfied with the sample, and then she turns and looks at her with a raised eyebrow.
"So are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and watch?" she asks pointedly, long braid falling past her shoulder and against her back when she tilts her head up defiantly, a smirk on her face as she watches her.
Mal grins, pushes herself away from the counter and to Regina, one hand ghosting over her jaw, tilting her chin down so she can land a kiss on the young woman's forehead.
"So impatient," she taunts, moving towards the table and rucking up the sleeves of her dark purple gown, the kitchen boy now standing there, forgotten as the two women stare at each other with naughty smirks on their faces.
"That will be all, Chef," Mal says without even bothering to look his way.
"But I have yet to show you how to roast the chicken," he stammers.
"I said, that will be all," Mal says again, waving her hand carelessly to gesture him out of the room, and out of the corner of her eye she sees him scramble out as fast as his scrawny legs will carry him.
"What are you up to?" Regina asks, and her smile is devious, yet trusting and somewhat childlike, still retaining some of her innocence, a spark of her young charisma that king Leopold has not yet snuffed out, and it's a trait she only exhibits when she's here, in Mal's castle, in Mal's care, because here is where Regina feels safe, with her and no one else, and the knowledge has a thrilling little shiver running through her body.
That shiver is what pushes her following actions, what makes her dip a finger into Regina's sauce and dot the tip of the brunette's nose with it.
"Mal, we have to roast the chicken," she insists sternly with a roll of her eyes, but the corner of her mouth is tipping up in a smile, and Maleficent knows she has her.
"I know, and we will, I just want to try the sauce first," she says as she leans in and kisses off the mixture, moaning at the taste.
"Good?" Regina asks.
"Delicious," she replies, enjoying the way her young friend's eyes shine with pride at having pleased her. "It's missing a little heat, though."
Regina's smile dims, "It is?"
"Mhmm," Maleficent tells her, moving just behind her, her arms encasing her, her chin on her shoulder, nose skimming her neck, taking in the mouth-watering scent of her, sweet and tempting and wonderful. "Red pepper flakes. Gives it a little kick."
"Oh?" Regina's voice is breathy, her body shaking when Mal presses her front flush to her back, her hands still moving over the table on either side of Regina, grabbing the roasted hot peppers with a cloth and crushing them. She unravels the cloth carefully then, pinching just a tiny bit of the powdered spice between two fingers and adding it to the bowl, all the while remaining pressed against the young queen, who has now gotten comfortable and leaned back against her, face turning just for a moment to ghost lips over her skin before she turns back to the food, her right cheek brushing Mal's left as she watches her stir everything together.
"Here," she says as she moves from behind her after a moment and helps her sit on the table right next to the ingredients they've been using, their faces mere inches apart, "try it now."
She gathers some of the sauce in a spoon and offers it to Regina, who closes her lips around the silver utensil and savors the mixture, licking her lips after she swallows, heat flickering in her eyes as they run over the dragon's face.
"You were right, it's better with a little fire," she says suggestively, and Mal can only grin.
"Everything's better with a little fire," she retorts, her mouth finding hers.
They never get around to roasting that chicken.