Title: No Fly, Waiter, But-
Word Count: 605
Summary: [There's an eyeball in his soup; staring him in the face. He tries not to notice. | Mako. Korra. Makorra.]
Rating: K+
Notes: Kind of a sequel-thing to Chapter 22 (So, Uh...)? At least the setting…
-.-
prompt· there's a fly in my soup
-.-
There's an eyeball in his soup.
He tries not to mention it as Korra scurries around the kitchen, tidying it up before she will eventually come to the table to seat, and eat, with him. It's her own creation; straight from the Southern Pole's cookbooks and she's beaming with the face of a joyful child that she has finally gotten all the ingredients to make it. Of course, there are a few modifications Mako told her to make for the sake of a healthy meal, but it's more or less exactly what she remembered. Placing the last wooden spoon into the sink, she sits across from him, her bowl hot and ready as she brushes away the steam rising from it. He glances down at his, taking the spoon with a sweaty palm. The eyeball is still there, covered in broth, sticking out between some carrots and what looks to be tiny seaweed noodles.
It's staring him in the face.
"It's good, isn't it?" Korra smiles, raising a spoonful of soup to her mouth. Mako swallows, still in stalemate with the eyeball, and digs his spoon in. He tries to avoid it, taking a spoon from the outer edges.
When he puts it in his mouth, he's surprised. "It is good!"
"See? Told you I could cook." Korra laughs, pointing at him. Mako nods in agreement, suddenly feeling very hungry as he scoops spoon after spoon of fish meat and noodle and vegetable – he pushes the eye out of his way, sinking the spoon deeper to get at the heavier stuff at the bottom.
"Whoa, slow down there, Cool Guy." Korra leans over the table, brow raised at his enthusiasm. "There's plenty more."
"Sorry," he wipes some dribble off the side of his mouth, taking the next scoop a bit slower than before. "I forgot how hungry I was."
"I'm glad you like it." Korra blows on her bowl and the steam floats and sticks to the lamp above their heads. "I'll have to give some to Bolin sometime; I'm sure he'll love it."
Mako takes another spoonful, chuckling at the thought of his brother getting his hands on this. "I'm sure he would."
He bites down-
-and the eyeball goes squish between his teeth.
He has to ball his hand into a fist to keep himself in control, but Korra notices all the same, and she looks at him with question.
"Something wrong?"
He still has it in his mouth as he mumbles out "No, no-" he swallows and the eyeball, cut in two, slides down his throat. It hits his stomach and he's half-sure that he can physically feel it land among the other contents in its own little 'eyeball-stomach zone'.
He coughs and sets his spoon down. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You look a little sick…"
"I just feel a little bloated, is all." He lifts a hand, patting his stomach lightly. "I'll be done for now, if that's alright."
"It's fine! You should go lie down if you're not well."
"Alright," he stands and heads toward the bedroom. "Call me when you're done. I'll help you clean up."
He can hear her softly agree but he's already walked over the hall and into their bedroom. Flopping onto the bed back-first, he stares at the ceiling, then to his stomach where he can still feel the stare of that eye on his face. He covers it with his hand, feeling the softness of his clothes and looks back to the ceiling. He hopes that won't happen again.
Next time, he's keeping a better watch on what she puts into that soup.
:Fin:
I told myself I wasn't going to write another food-story but then I saw a picture with soup and a particularly large eyeball in the center and I just had to do it. Also gave me an opportunity to try out a new method for writing dialogue. Not sure if you'll notice, but I'm very happy with the results. ^^