21. Burn

Percy squatted in front of the oven, sea green eyes fixed unwaveringly on the contents inside. On the beaten up, scratch covered baking sheet inside, blue chocolate chip cookies rose to blueish-golden heights, chocolate goodness bubbling on their surface. The timer on the stove counted down in electric green block letters: 0:44, 0:43, 0:42, 0:41. Percy rocked back and forth on his heels, not breaking eye contact. His nose itched. He scrunched his nose up, wiggling and shaking his head to try and dispel the irksome sensation because his hands were otherwise engaged, encased in brand new oven mitts (a gift from Paul, Christmas red with sparkling white snowflakes, adorable and functional his mother praised).

The itch grew unbearable and Percy groaned, tearing off an oven mitt to scratch the offending nose.

0:02, 0:01—beep, beep, beep.

"Oh Styx," Percy cursed, scrambling to find the hastily discarded oven mitt, shoving it back on while simultaneously opening the oven door. The heat wafted up to his face but he barely noticed as he grabbed the cookie tray and—

"Oh Styx, Styx, Styx," Percy cursed louder and louder with each iteration as he realized in his haste he hadn't put the oven mitt completely on and the 350-degree metal tray was now pressing against his skin.

"Styx, Styx, Styx," Percy repeated all but dropping the cookie tray onto stove top, shutting the oven door with a kick of his foot and making a dash for the sink.

"Percy? Percy?!"

Percy, half stretched across the apartment's kitchenette, one foot still stretched out from shutting the oven door and hand shoved under the spray of the kitchen sink, looked up with wide eyes as his mother came running into the kitchen. Sally was only half awake, dressing gown ruffled from her abrupt awakening, eyes darting around the kitchen in alarm.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, no monsters," Percy apologized with a chagrined smile. "Just ah, making cookies? To surprise you?" The burn on his hand hadn't completely healed yet so he kept his hand under the water and tried to jerk his head towards the cookie tray. "Happy New Year?"

"Oh," Sally said, hand coming up to cover her heart as her shoulders dropped. She padded a little further into the kitchen, staring at the cookie tray with a budding smile. "Blue chocolate chip?"

"I mean, they're probably not as good as yours but ah, yeah."

"They're perfect," Sally interjected, a full beautiful smiling blooming on her face as she swooped in to kiss his cheek.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"You're safe and baking me cookies, how could I be upset?" Sally asked, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. She pulled away a moment later frowning at his hand.

"Did you burn yourself?"

"Ah, yeah a little, but it's fine now. That's where the ah—"

"All the cursing came from yes," Sally guessed with a laugh, reaching out to pull his hand from the sink's spray and inspected the skin. She put his hand back under the water. "Keep it there for another half a minute. Here, let these cool for a few minutes then we can put the rest in. Want anything for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes? I think we have pancake batter around here somewhere."

"Hey, I was the one making breakfast—!"

"No, you were making cookies, honey. Cookies are not breakfast—no, it doesn't matter how many times you've saved the world, cookies for breakfast are still not acceptable. Go wake up Paul and I'll get this started."

A/n Not what you were expecting was it? Well, I've finally delivered actual fluff! Not just angsty fluff but real full fluff. I have it in me, I swear. Now I want to go make cookies but Christmas almost cookie me out. We'll see.

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