M'gann thought she would enjoy cooking. It was a strangely, wholly unique skill she had never acquired on Mars. On the red planet they ate food raw. Her people's bodies had evolved the skills to ingest many products just as they were and to morph their insides to break them down. Humans, however, had evolved in the opposite direction. Much of their foods required preparations by heating, freezing, and mixing to make a million different concoctions. It was hard but fun work. She could shape-shift her tastebuds to make raw food taste like anything she wanted but there was a certain pride in having to follow a recipe to get a certain flavor and having to stick with it, well, for others at least.
The smell of fresh baked sugar cookies, rice pilaf, and pan-seared cod wafted from the oven and stove, filling Mount Justice's leisure space with their delicious aroma.
It all smelled fantastic but in the moment, M'gann didn't notice. Worry radiated from her as she looked at the boiling pots and the sizzling cast iron skillet all steaming and bubbling and hissing, each one demanding her attention. A red cook book floated to her right and she had crafted for herself six arms but even then it didn't seem enough to handle the whole oven.
"Uh, let's see, page 45 for the white sauce, combine three cups of cream, stir until…." She was cut off as the water in the pot of rice began to boil over causing the fire under it to sputter and hiss. "On no the rice! Don't panic, Megan, cut that down to medium-high… was I supposed to add anything else in there?" She mentally flipped the pages of the book to page 89 where she hastily read the instructions. "Butter?! Did I add that? I thought I did! Oh… by the Rings of Saturn!"
"Shouldn't that be by the Rings of Mars?" someone asked behind her.
M'gann's eyes glowed fully green in frustration. She whirled around angrily, ready to fling the floating book at the speaker. "Mars doesn't have rings you… you…"
Superboy stood before her. He didn't look friendly but certainly not hostile. He arched a brow at her, not mockingly, just curious.
M'gann's eyes went back to their normal hue. Her throat suddenly felt dry. She hadn't seen him so… so neutral since they had been confined to Mount Justice two weeks ago. "Superboy, what are you doing here?"
"I live here too?" he said with mild bemusement.
M'gann mentally brushed back a loose lock of hair from her forehead. "I meant here in the leisure area. You haven't really well… you sort of just stay in your room when not training."
That was more than true. He was like a ghost in Mount Justice. If he wasn't punching training dummies to smithereens he was locked away in his own room. She never heard music or television noises coming from within. Was he reading or just captive to his own thoughts?
"You were making a lot of noise. All the pots and pans clanging around." He leaned to his left, a questioning look on his face as he stared at the stove behind her. "Which, by the way….?"
M'gann smelled it then. The delicious aroma was gone replaced by something far less tantalizing – the smell of burning sugar.
"Oh Great H'ronmeer the cookies!" M'gann whirled around and mentally opened the oven door. Her thoughts were scattered and instead of just lowering the door she ripped it off its hinges. Black smoke billowed from within the dark space of the oven. M'gann and Superboy coughed as M'gann mentally lifted the cookie sheet out of the oven.
The cookies looked like they had gotten in a one-on-one fight with Firestorm and lost. At some point in the baking the cookies had all spread out and melted together. The one giant cookie was fully flat and was burnt to a crisp. The top had become all cracked and she had no doubt when it cooled it would be rock solid and only Superman would be able to separate cookie from sheet pan.
It was a disaster.
"I… I don't understand. I followed the recipe."
Superboy stepped forward, eyeing the cookie sheet with scrutiny. "Looks like you used too much butter, they all sort of melted."
M'gann slapped her forehead. "Hello Megan! That's where all that butter went."
From the corner of her eye she almost thought she saw Superboy smirk. There was no cruelty in it. He looked almost amused. "Looks like you might have doubled the amount."
"It must've gotten the pilaf and the cookie recipes all jumbled," M'gann groaned. Tears brimmed her eyes. "I can give myself as many arms as I need, can make things float, and can stir things with my mind. How can cooking be this hard?"
"Hey you did way better than me," Superboy snorted. He crossed his arms, looking intently at the mess of overflowing rice and burning cod. "When I tried my hand at cooking I burned those noodles that come in the Styrofoam cup. Well, noodles and cup. There wasn't much of a distinction to either after I pulled it from the microwave."
"Wait, really?" M'gann laughed, amused by his own experience. It didn't make her feel so bad about her own mess. She didn't think Superboy ever cooked or had ever tried it. Maybe that's why he stuck to sandwiches.
"Yeah the whole place stank of burnt noodles for a week." He didn't smile as he said it and she thought perhaps he was regretting telling her. His brow furrowed, jet black eyebrows meeting as his blue gaze stared thoughtfully at the ruined stove. "What is all this anyway? Seems like a lot for one Martian."
M'gann's cheeks burned. She didn't know how her shape-shifted body did it. Martain's didn't blush but in a semi-human guise it seemed unavoidable, at least for her. "I was sort of making it for us. I noticed that you usually just eat some sandwiches or cereal. I thought a nice, hot homecooked meal might be a change of pace." His frown devolved into a deep scowl and she added quickly, "You know to… to say I'm sorry for ruining the test."
The scowl remained etched upon his face but his eyes became unreadable. M'gann's hearts froze. Was he angry? Did he hate her even more now for bringing it back up?
"You didn't ruin it," Superboy admitted gruffly. His eyes remained glued to the stove. "I could have seriously hurt Aqualad and Robin. It was my screw up."
He wasn't saying sorry in so many words, but M'gann understood what it was. Roughly, in his own way, he was admitting fault. She had never seen him do that before, even with the other members of the team. Normally if he messed up he didn't acknowledge it, only corrected the error silently in training or acted as if it hadn't happened.
M'gann gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not the only one to blame."
"Who else is?" Superboy huffed. "The Mistake making mistakes. Seems like it all stems from me."
"That's not true," M'gann cut in sternly. Her eyes glowed full green then drifted back into their normal state. "I did too," she replied softly. "With the cargo crate, I mean. I could have communicated or waited for you to land."
"I should have been on the lookout for your help."
"Are you trying to take all the blame for this?"
He huffed again. "I'm just thinking what everyone else is thinking. A half-cooked abomination from a lab, a thing trying to be Superman and can't quite get it right. I'm too angry, I let it cloud my judgement. I make too many mistakes."
M'gann's hearts panged for him. The look on his face was one of anger and regret and sorrow all mixed into one. "No you're not," M'gann refuted earnestly. "And we all make mistakes." She gestured to the smoking, beeping mess of an oven. As if to back up her words the lid atop the rice's saucepan blew off, landing with a clank on top of the ruined stove. "RT is going to kill me when he sees what I've done to the oven, for all I know it might have been his long-lost cousin."
Superboy huffed again but this time it sounded like he was choking back a laugh. A soft smile ghosted the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed but if he was acknowledging her words about mistakes or was going along with her joke she couldn't tell.
Deciding not to ask for clarity, M'gann sighed and drifted towards the stove. "I guess it's not too late to start over. The fridge is fully stocked."
She lifted her hands and began to telekinetically move the dirty cutlery, canisters of herbs, dripping bowls, and other cooking paraphernalia to the sink. In her eagerness to start anew she didn't see the bottle with oil in it had melted partially from the heat, slowly dripping its bright yellow fluid right over the stove's open flame.
"M'gann watch out!" Superboy shouted from behind her.
Fire shot up as the oil hit the open flames. A woosh of heat blared from the oven, casting the nearby surfaces in a bright glow of orange. M'gann screamed and lost concentration, causing everything floating in the air to fall. The entire bottle of oil hit the burning eye. Thick tongues of flame jetted upwards, sparking and lashing in the air, singing her. The pain seared against her skin nearly robbing her of her mental faculties. All she could see in her eyes was the fire. It burned and she feared it.
She couldn't take her eyes away from the spewing flames but in a heartbeat, less than a heartbeat, the flames vanished leaving her surrounding vision black with just a bit of red at the very center. She thought for a moment she had gone blind, that the dreaded fire had somehow burned out her retinas and left the last vestige of its deadly red tongue in the center of her eye sockets, then she realized the darkness she saw was from a black shirt with an S symbol in the middle. Strong arms surrounded her, protecting her. A rush of air hit her back and she realized she was being carried away. It lasted only a moment and she found herself standing on the rug next to the couch.
"It's alright, I got you," Superboy assured her.
He looked down at her and a heat that M'gann knew was not from the fire burned at her cheeks again. "Superboy, I–
He seemed to realize how close they were and awkwardly pushed himself at arm's length, holding her shoulders. Blue eyes scanned her as if trying to locate roasted green skin or burning pieces of clothing. "You alright?"
"Yeah…," she replied breathlessly. "Yeah, I'm alright."
"Good. Stay here." Before she could say another word he dashed off back to the fire-spitting, smoke-choked stove. She squeaked with fear as he got closer to the flames, but they didn't affect him at all. He grabbed the stove by its sides, fingers digging into the metal and ripped it from the ground. While it blazed he dashed it off to the training room where the floors and walls were made of metal, nothing would catch fire there and it was a long way away.
Not wishing to look at where the flaming stove had been, M'gann rounded the couch and sank down. Sighing, she placed her head against her knees, trying to banish the last of her panic and get a hold of herself. She couldn't help but fear fire, Martian that she was. What would J'onn say if he found out? No she hadn't nearly been taken down in the line of duty but by a grease fire! And what was worse, Superboy had seen it, seen her shrink into quivering helplessness and wilt. He was sure to tell the other members of the team, especially when they saw the stove was missing and Red Tornado would be back from his rounds of patrolling Happy Harbor at any minute.
The kitchen was a destroyed mess, there was no dinner and Superboy….
"Great job Megan, just great!" she lamented aloud, her head still against her knees.
"Hey, everyone makes mistakes," Superboy said. "Didn't you just teach me that?"
M'gann looked up, though she wished she could have shifted and fell through the floor. She was sure Superboy would have been laughing, his tone had not been one of commiseration, but there was no humor on his face or aggravation, only understanding. He stood before her and in his hand was a single paper plate with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches both cut down the middle.
She hadn't heard him come back, hadn't even heard him slap the sandwiches together at lightning speed but in her post-fire fear state she was almost helpless until the panic abated and her strength returned.
He sat down on the opposite side of the couch and placed the paper plate between them. He sat tensely, ill at ease, and she guessed he felt… nervous. This was more than he had done for anybody since arriving. He was frowning again and didn't look at her, just the plate and then the blank TV screen against the leisure room's wall.
"Eat up, with our track record for cooking, I think we'll be exiled from touching most of the stuff in the kitchen."
M'gann should have felt embarrassed or at least discouraged but neither emotion reared their ugly heads. Instead warm laughter sang from her throat. "Aqualad is not going to be happy when he has to train in a room that smells like burned fish."
Superboy coughed hard and this time M'gann was sure it was a desperate attempt to cover up laughter, and it had almost failed.
He looked over at her and she saw the humor twinkling in his blue eyes. He couldn't cover that up.
He thinks I'm funny.
She hadn't meant to read his mind and for a moment she feared she had, as if she had unwittingly plundered through his brain, then realized a moment later she had done no such thing. She could see it in his eyes, like reading his soul.
She stared into his blue eyes, a color not naturally found on the red, red Mars and realized he too was staring. The room was suddenly very quiet, very still. She could hear a thudding in her ears, the culprit her three hearts.
In an instant they both understood they were staring and both looked away. Superboy grabbed half of a sandwich and began to eat determinedly, his eyes set firmly upon two sticky pieces of bread in his hands.
M'gann didn't feel hungry anymore, her belly felt like it was full of butterflies, but she grabbed a half of a sandwich as well. She nibbled, tasting the strange sandwich. It was a well know food in Happy Harbor but one she had yet to sample. The bread was grainy, there was too much peanut-butter and the sticky grape jelly was dripping out onto her fingers. It was a mess, all of it, and yet she found herself smiling, found herself taking another bite then another.
Had she not been on house-arrest she could have gone anywhere in the world and gotten the finest meal, but this sticky, drippy sandwich cheered her up. It made her feel warm inside knowing he had made it, as strange as it was.
"Superboy?" M'gann looked at him.
He didn't look at her, his gaze still steely-fixed on the remnants of his sandwich. "I know, it sucks but–
"Thanks for making dinner tonight."
The Boy of Steel stopped midchew. His brows once more knit together as if he were replaying her last words in his head. "Sure," he said finally, coldly.
Quiet once more enshrouded them as the picked around their sandwiches. M'gann's thoughts were a jumble, rioting recklessly through her head, trying to build just who Superboy was in her mind, but failing. She had never met anyone like him, someone with so little but seemed to carry something impossibly heavy inside of him. For an instant she thought she spotted another side of him, then he had just drifted back into his normally distant self.
She felt stupid, maybe she had dreamt it. Maybe him making the sandwiches was just his way of taking pity on her, maybe–
"You make the sandwiches tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, grinding her thoughts to a halt.
Her attention focused on him once more. He stared at the last bite of sandwich as if the grape jelly held the answer as to why he had just said that.
M'gann's hearts rapped again. A smile came unbidden to her lips and she found that no matter what she tried to do she couldn't fight it down. "Sure."