The kitchen is officially firing up the burners for the remaining slots on our menu! We are starting with a House Special for Day 3, featuring the Master of Flavors himself, Monsieur Jamil Viper.
There is no one better suited for the theme of "Spices." To Jamil, spice is not just flavor; it is chemistry, it is medicine, and it is a precise art form. Watching him work to warm you up from the inside out is a treat for all the senses.
The kitchen has prepared this Manager's Specialty Pasta with a side of cardamom and cinnamon. We do hope this "House Special" is to your satisfaction!
Serving: Spices
The wind outside Scarabia was usually a dry, sandy heat. But winter had freakishly touched the desert, turning the night air sharp, biting, and relentlessly cold.
You stumbled into the Scarabia kitchen, your teeth chattering, your hands shoved deep into your pockets. You felt like an ice cube that had been dropped into a sand dune.
Jamil Viper was standing at the main counter, bathed in the warm, yellow light of the stove hood. He looked up as you entered, his brow furrowing slightly at your shivering form.
"You look pathetic," he stated, though his tone lacked its usual venom. It was merely an observation of fact. "Did you forget your coat?"
"It's... c-colder... than I thought," you managed to stutter, leaning against the counter near the stove, trying to leech some warmth from the appliance.
Jamil sighed, setting down his knife. "honestly. If I leave you like that, you'll catch a cold, and then Kalim will worry, and then I'll have to deal with a frantic Housewarden. Sit down."
You sat on a stool. You expected him to toss you a blanket or maybe pour some hot water.
Instead, Jamil reached for his spice rack.
"External heat is temporary," Jamil lectured, his voice sliding into that smooth, instructive cadence he used when he actually cared about the subject. "If you want to survive the cold, you need to generate heat from within. You need to wake up your blood."
He pulled out a heavy mortar and pestle. Into it went green pods, dark sticks, and small, hard seeds.
"Cardamom for circulation," he murmured, tossing in the pods. "Cinnamon for the blood sugar. Cloves for the throat. And ginger..." He sliced a knob of fresh root with terrifying precision. "...for the fire."
He began to crush them. The sound was rhythmic—grind, twist, crunch.
"Come here," he commanded.
You leaned in.
"Smell," he said, holding the mortar under your nose.
You inhaled. It wasn't just a smell; it was a physical sensation. The aroma was sharp, rich, and instantly warming. It tickled your nose and seemed to clear the fog in your brain immediately.
"It smells... strong," you said, already feeling a bit more awake.
"It's supposed to," Jamil smirked, satisfied. He dumped the mixture into a pot of simmering milk and black tea leaves on the stove.
For the next few minutes, the kitchen was silent save for the bubbling of the pot. The scent filled the room, replacing the cold, sterile air with something thick, sweet, and spicy. Jamil watched the pot like a hawk, adjusting the flame, stirring with a deliberate, hypnotic motion.
"Cooking," Jamil said softly, not looking at you, "is about balance. The cold tries to slow you down. The spice fights back. It forces your body to react."
He turned off the heat. He strained the liquid into two ceramic mugs. He added a precise amount of sugar to each—he knew exactly how you liked it without asking.
He walked over and placed the mug in your frozen hands.
"Drink," he ordered. "Slowly. It's hot."
You lifted the mug. The steam hit your face, smelling of ginger and comfort. You took a sip.
It was like swallowing liquid gold. The heat didn't just sit in your stomach; it radiated outward, chasing the chill from your fingertips and toes. The spice tin-gled on your tongue, a pleasant, low-level burn that made you feel alive again.
"Wow," you breathed, lowering the mug. "Jamil, this is amazing."
Jamil leaned against the counter opposite you, sipping his own cup, his dark eyes watching you over the rim. He saw the color returning to your cheeks. He saw your shoulders relax.
"It's just Masala Chai," he deflected, though he looked pleased. "Basic chemistry."
"It feels like magic."
"It's better than magic," Jamil corrected, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "Magic fades. A good spice blend... that stays with you."
He reached out, his hand brushing against your now-warm knuckles.
"Now," he said, his voice quiet and warm. "Drink up. I'm not having you freeze on my watch."
A "dish" served with aromatic precision and a hidden warmth! The kitchen is pleased to present this House Special.
jamil is sure this is the thing that will kill him. he's gotten used to working with other people in the kitchen, especially for feasts for Kalim's massive parties. but with you, his partner, he just might get a permanent migraine.
it's not that he dislikes your company. he just wishes you were more careful. like. seriously more careful. you seem to have no sense that your hand is too close to the knife you're currently chopping with at great speed in an attempt to impress him. or the multiple times you've tried putting your hand on the stove to lean. he doesn't want to babysit TWO people.
but all of it is worth it when you scribble down his recipes in a little piece of paper like you're ever going to cook instead of him. when you look so proud when you manage to NOT burn the steak into ashes for the first time. he loves your smile just as much as he loves you.
This was such an amazing project to be a part of - make sure you check out the rest of the amazing work done on these photo albums here!!!!
I’ll be posting my works from this project, so please enjoy -
Cole and Zane cooking together
Okay okay. This was it. He was finally going to prove to everyone that he was not a terrible cook. So he had a couple of bung dishes - several being the result of a couple of pranks (looking at you, Lloyd and Jay). Sure - he wasn’t Zane level, but he managed. Of course, the first time he cooked for everyone, he tried something new and now he was forever labelled with the title of ‘worst cook’. Honestly, this was so unfair. Jay was one to complain when he always used the frozen meals from the supermarket on his night to cook. Cole made something handmade, with love, his family recipe, and they had the nerve to say it was awful.
Even if it glued their mouths shut. So what? A nice peaceful dinner for once! It was better than when there was a food fight!
Cole needed to get out of his head. When he snapped back to reality he suddenly realised he had added lemon juice instead of lime. It would be fine right? It would just change the flavour a little right?
Wait, was it meant to be this watery? How do you thicken something? Flour?
Cole went to the cupboard, to find… an empty bag of flour… Why was it always right before stock up day that it was his night to cook? Every single time.
What else was there? Beef stock?
Eh, that’ll do.
Cole added plenty of beef stock, before transferring the… mixture to a pot.
Cole began stirring the pot, before placing the lid and letting the mixture simmer.
Wait, did I add onions?
Cole left to chop onions, however, a startling yell from the outside training session distracted him, leading to him cutting his finger with the knife.
“First Spinjitzu Master…” Cole muttered under his breath, wondering if it was offensive to use Lloyd’s grandfather’s name in vain. As he put a bandage on his finger, he heard a gentle tap at the kitchen door.
Zane nodded, only to begin taking in the disarray that the kitchen was in. “How is dinner going?”
“Ummmmm - good!” Cole stammered.
Zane raised his eyebrows, indicating his concern - but he humoured Cole. “What are you making?”
“Crispy mayonnaise shrimp!”
Zane simply picked up the box of beef stock, now nearly empty, with a concerned look on his face.
“What?” Cole asked innocently.
Zane couldn’t help but sigh. He was trying. “Do you want some help?”
“What? No, I'm fine!”
As if on cue, there was a crash as the lid of the pot fell off the pot, revealing the bubbling mixture to be boiling over.
Cole muttered some quiet swears under his breath as he ran over to the stove, desperately wanting to save the dish. He glanced over, seeing Zane leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.
He had that look on his face.
I’m right and you know it.
“Fine!” Cole conceded. He needed help.
Zane only smiled kindly. Even when it wasn’t his night to cook, he almost always offered to help. If nothing else, he enjoyed spending time with the others one on one, and Cole was no exception.
They slipped into easy conversation as the dish was restarted. Each time, Zane paused to explain why something was done a certain way. Cole nodded in understanding, smiling fondly and the anxiety from earlier dripping away. Everyone who has ever tried to teach Cole how to cook, they only told him what not to do. When he asked why they never gave him a straight answer. Zane had endless patience and understood that this was how Cole learned. He had to understand. Zane knew how to help him.
Despite having lost an hour to Cole’s solo attempt, dinner was ready on time; Cole turned off the stove just as the door into the dining room rolled open, as the pair heard the chatter on the other side of the screen.
“Thank you, Zane,” Cole said, halting him before they served dinner.
“Of course, Cole. You know you can always ask for help.” Zane paused as if taking a moment to think. “I know you prefer to be independent, and I support you in that, just… do not feel like you cannot ask when you need it.”
Cole only smiled. “As long as I can help you cook tomorrow,” he teased, earning a roll of Zane’s eyes. “Come on, they’re going to say it’s cold if we keep it much longer.
The night passed by in a haze of warmth. As he settled into bed he thought back to his parents tucking him into bed. “If today was a colour, which one would it be Cole?”
It wasn’t just one today - it was a collage.
Warm colours - the red of the bounty walls, oranges, golds. Vibrant.
But then there are streaks of white, silver and pale pinks.
The point of this exercise was to not label a day as ‘good’ or ‘bad’.
Summary: Klaus and Y/N have had to deal with a lot of things recently and are taking a date night to themselves
Warnings: Lots of fluff :)
Walking into the living room of the Mikaelson manor, you looked around, one hand resting on your hip. Your y/c hair was tossed into a haphazard ponytail and strands stuck out all over your head.
“Nik?” Taking a step forward, your slippered feet slid out from under you, causing your body to fall backwards and a shocked yelp to escape you. Right before crashing to the floor, there was a whoosh of air and you were suddenly held aloft in the arms of none other than the Hybrid himself.
Klaus Mikaelson looked down at you, his blue eyes narrowed in slight frustration, but mostly pure adoration. “Y/N, love, what’re you doing here? In slippers?” His gaze darted to your feet that hung over his arm. You felt self-conscious in the blue dress you wore, and in his arms it was hiked up to your hips.
“Um, just here to, you know, see you. Why else would I be here?” Kicking your legs a bit to try and get out of his arms, he eventually put you down and your dress fell back around your knees. “You seem busy, I’ll just, uh, go. I have, um, things to do? Yep, that’s it. My laundry needs washing and-”
Before you could finish, Klaus placed his hands on your cheeks and shot you an easy smile. “Wait. Let’s have a date night, alright? The family’s gone off, just you and I. What do you say?”
His strangely innocent smile and pleading blue eyes immediately caused you to agree, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. “Fine, fine. Your puppy dog eyes don’t fool anyone, mister.”
Klaus chuckled easily, pressing his lips to your forehead and directing you to the couch. “I’ll make dinner, pick out a movie, my love. Nothing too bad, please. Last time you chose the Notebook and-”
“Don’t say anything bad about the Notebook, it’s amazing! Don’t even start, your movie choices suck ass.”
He laughed loudly and shook his head, heading into the kitchen as you grabbed the remote and flicked through the movie choices. Unsurprisingly, the Mikaelsons had every site subscription one could get. You decided on Brooklyn Nine-Nine and waited for him to return with the food.
After an agonizingly long time, you stood and headed into the kitchen to figure out what was taking him so long. He was standing at the oven, juggling multiple foods and was struggling with making the pasta sauce. “Nik? Are you alright?” You were trying not to laugh at the sight of him not being the greatest cook. “Do you need help?”
He raised his index in her direction, stirring the sauce before flashing to the pasta as it began bubbling over. “I’m fine! A woman doesn’t deserve to be in the kitchen, you have no need to help me.”
“Niklaus, for the love of God, you’re so stubborn. Stop that, let me help.” You headed to the sauce, tasting it before adding some more salt. He didn’t bother flashing you out of the kitchen, you only would’ve returned. That was the problem with you, you both were equally as stubborn as the other. It created multiple headbutts in the relationship, but the arguments were a good stress relief in your opinion.
Pouring the sauce into its own bowl, you taste-tested it again and then looked over at Klaus as he doused the pasta in an unhealthy amount of butter. “Oh, Nik.” He looked up, guilt plastered on his face.
“Is it too much? I didn’t mean to ruin it-”
Oh, darn those puppy dog eyes.
“No! It’s fine, it’s fine. You did amazing, it tastes great. Delicious.”
In truth, it tasted less than great but you weren’t going to tell him that. He wasn’t used to cooking, having survived on blood and you needing actual human sustenance was a new concept for him to figure out. “Niklaus . . . when was the last time you cooked?”
He blinked and closed his eyes, counting on his fingers for a moment. “It’s . . . been a minute. A good century or two, human food isn’t exactly a regular in my life, love.” He moved across the kitchen, brushing your hair back from your face. “But, I’m happy to make the disgusting food for you.”
You laughed at his joking manner and pressed your lips easily against his, hands resting on his neck. He was warm, which you had never expected from a vampire. His skin was warm under your palms, and you loved the moles on his neck. “Dork.”
He rolled his pale blue eyes and kissed your forehead, tugging you into an embrace. “Y/N, I do believe you’re the only person on this planet who thinks that.”
Resting your nose against the crook of his shoulder, you smiled. “Good.”
An hour and a messy dinner later, the two of you were sat on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. “You know,” you started, resting your back against his chest, “Holt reminds me a lot of Elijah.”
Klaus laughed loudly, his chest rumbling with the sound. “I was just thinking that. They are quite similar, maybe the writers interviewed Elijah beforehand or met him.” Klaus twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “I fell bad for them if they did, he’s such a bore.”
Snorting, you slapped his knee. “You’re such a jerk to him. Be nicer, maybe then you two won’t argue quite so much.”
Niklaus pulled your hair slightly, causing you to yelp in pain. He shot you a sly smile. “Mm, he’s just so easy to get into fights with, though.”
You released a drawn out sigh and shook your head, holding in a chortle. “You’re such a dick.” Twisting, you curled against his chest and closed your eyes, signalling you were tired. Klaus wrapped his arms around your back, too entranced in the show at this point to get to bed.
At some point, you fell asleep in his arms, and when you awoke, you were still in the same position. It was hours later and the TV was off, Klaus was passed out under you. His arms were wrapped tightly around your torso, and his nose rested in your hair. You smiled slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw.
He mumbled in his sleep, shaking off your kiss with a sleepy sigh. “Nuh-uh, mate, go away. Taken.” He rolled, practically squishing you under his weight as he fell back asleep. You bit back a laugh and wrapped you arms around his neck, falling back to sleep yourself.
Jake is an amazing cook. Amy didn't find this out about him until after they started dating.
Over all the years she had known him as her partner, she assumed he was a horrible cook, because why else would he choose to eat mayo nut spoonsies if he could make something actually edible.
Amy was the worst cook she knew, but even she wouldn't sink that low. She’d rather eat tree bark than the nasty concoctions that he came up with.
Then, one night, Jake decided to “spontaneously” make dinner from scratch. She thought they’d order in pizza and continue their movie night, but he said he had a better idea, and told her to sit back and relax on the couch while he fixed something up.
She only waited a few minutes before checking on him, because she was genuinely worried about Jake making something she was expected to eat.
AO3 Link
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Cooking fluff
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Jake is an amazing cook. Amy didn't find this out about him until after they started dating. In fact, it was a few month into their romantic relationship before she got even a hint of how good her boyfriend was at making meals.
Over all the years she had known him as her partner, she assumed he was a horrible cook, because why else would he choose to eat mayo nut spoonsies if he could make something actually edible.
Amy was the worst cook she knew, but even she wouldn't sink that low. She’d rather eat tree bark than the nasty concoctions that he came up with.
Then, one night, Jake decided to “spontaneously” make dinner from scratch. She thought they’d order in pizza and continue their movie night, but he said he had a better idea, and told her to sit back and relax on the couch while he fixed something up.
She only waited a few minutes before checking on him, because she was genuinely worried about Jake making something she was expected to eat.
She found him in the kitchen, his back towards her, facing the stove and sprinkling spices over something.
The scent wafting over to her nostrils was mouthwatering, though.
Over his shoulder she could see some sort of vegetables covered and being steamed, a pot of water filled with potatoes, and a skillet that's sizzling chicken covered in some intoxicating spices that she could almost taste on her tongue.
“How in the world did you manage this?” She near gasped, and Jake looked back over his shoulder, noticing her standing there for the first time.
“I know it seems like a miracle compared to you, but most people have at least some ability to cook.”
“I know I suck in the kitchen, but I’ve watched plenty of other people mix and bake. This is not just ‘some ability,’ Jake,” she told him. “It's not even finished yet, and it's already the best thing I've ever smelled. When did you start cooking? How could you not tell me you started cooking?” Amy knew this had to be a recent development, and she couldn't believe that Jake didn't tell her when he started learning how to cook.
“I've always had a bit of master chef in me,” Jake answered. “But I've been a great cook for forever. Learned when I was a kid, so pretty much my whole life”.
“There is no way you've been great at cooking since before I met you,” Amy scoffed, immediately dismissing such an unbelievable claim. “This would be the best secret talent anyone's ever hidden and you're the last person to hide even your worst talents. No way. If you could always cook this well, why would you reduce yourself to eating gummy bears dipped in chocolate milk when you had the skill to make something that wasn't disgusting? No way you've kept this secret talent hidden the whole time I've known you. You didn't always have this. I would've known.”
“First off, gummy bears and chocolate milk are delicious,” he corrected her vehemently. “I eat them because they're delicious. Second off, is it really that hard to believe? Single mom, remember. Had to cook for myself a lot. Though my nana was the one who taught me how to actually do it well. I had years of practice before I even got to high school. Whole life. Well, I wasn't allowed to touch the stove until I was ten, but even before that I did all the mixing and spices with the rest of the ingredients when Nana did the hot stuff so I wouldn't burn myself.”
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Amy narrowed her eyes. She wanted to believe him, she really did. But this was Jake.
“Okay, where did you get the ingredients? No way you ran down to the store and back in 180 seconds without me hearing the door even if you had superhuman speed. I would've heard from the couch if some sweet old neighbor of yours brought over some fresh ingredients when you texted them cooking 911. You couldn't have gotten these in the time I was just in the other room without me noticing. How do you explain that then, mister?” She jabbed his shoulder with her finger, and Jake chuckled at her accusatory tone.
“I got them from my fridge, Amy. Hate to disappoint when you think I have some power to make food appear out of nowhere, cause that would be the best power in the history of ever, and I would so not use that power for good. But no dice. We were talking in the other room, I walked in here, pulled everything out of my fridge, then started cooking. I'm not that sneaky to have covert ingredient deliveries. Hate to burst your bubble.”
“Jake, I've seen the inside of your fridge many times before. I've seen the horrors you keep stocked in there. You don't keep fresh things that any human can stomach other than you. I don't even open your fridge anymore when I'm looking for a snack, because I know the exact kind of ‘food’ you keep in there. You never have anything like this handy. Fresh ingredients are the kinds of things you have to buy in advance. Maybe if you were actually a healthy eater it wouldn't be suspicious if you just pulled stuff like this out of your fridge without warning.”
She thought she had him there.
“Maybe this meal is a little less spontaneous than I initially led you to believe,” Jake said casually as he lifted the lid off the vegetables and stirred them, when she knew it was anything but.
That he had actually been planning this, even though he was too embarrassed to let her know that. And it was probably the most adorable thing ever all the effort he put into it, and all the effort he put into hiding all that effort. Jake trying to pretend that not ordering in tonight was one of those Jake Peralta whims when he had actually been planning this at least a day or two in advance.
Instead of replying to his confession, Amy just hugged him from behind.
He stiffened for a millisecond after her surprise embrace and his not at all casual meaningfulness, but he relaxed into her two milliseconds later.
“Thank you,” she murmured, kissing the back of his neck sweetly. Without even looking, she knew he was smiling.
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“Oh my god, that was amazing. You should cook like this more often,” Amy said, actually pushing away her empty plate with a groan after she finished off her seconds. She’d been singing him praises the whole time they ate, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Jake smile at her so happily and shyly as he did with every compliment. She swore he actually blushed a couple times. “We could do it together, you know,” she suggested.
Jake raised a curious eyebrow, leaning forward, like he was subconsciously trying to get closer to her sitting across from him.
“Cooking, I mean,” Amy clarified. “If you wanted to do something like this again. We could do it together. Or I could try and help. Cause you know I’m no good at cooking myself-”
“You can say that again,” Jake muttered under his breath with a teasing smile. Everyone at the nine nine’s got their fair share of close calls when it came to food prepared by Amy Santiago.
Amy just rolled her eyes. “As I was saying, if you- if you wanted to. If you wanted to pull out your secret cooking talent again, I could try and help out or something, and maybe we could make dinner together sometime.”
“Yeah,” Jake nodded, smiling, without a hint of teasing in it. Just a genuine smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
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Then it becomes a thing that they do.
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The thing about Jake Peralta cooking is that the end result is always amazing, and he can make things in record time, but he always leaves the kitchen in a disaster area in his wake. It’s really the only way to describe it- he’s just a tornado in the kitchen. He leaves out every single ingredient, and always makes a mess.
The thing about Amy Santiago cooking is that she can’t. Even with someone as good as Jake guiding her. Her last major screw up came when Jake gave her a measuring cup and asked her to fill it with baking powder and dump it in the bowl while he was doing this weird thing called basting to some turkey. They didn’t find out until after they sat down to eat that Amy didn’t fill the measuring cup with baking powder, but baking soda (“What? I thought they were the same thing!” “They’re not! They’re so not! People clean with this stuff, Amy! You use like a teaspoon of baking soda if you’re making bread, and any more than that is the amount you use to scour a bathtub! Why didn’t you just ask? You know I know your kitchen skill level. I wouldn’t have called something anything other than what the label says when I’m cooking with you. There is a very big difference between baking soda and baking powder. Huge difference.”)
So yeah, she’d pretty much lost her ingredient-contribution privileges.
But that turned out to be for the best. Because while Amy was not a chef, she could admit she was a bit of a neat freak. She liked keeping things orderly and clean. And after she was absolved from actually trying to help Jake make amazing meals for the two of them, that’s when their actual kitchen partnership began to shine.
Every time he was making meals she followed his tornado wreckage that he made over the counters and picked up what he left out, the spills and messes he made, and just cleaned up a bit while he continued tearing through the kitchen.
They made great kitchen partners.
Jake liked cooking, he was good at it, and he was incredibly messy. Amy liked cleaning, she was good at it, and she couldn’t cook to save anyone’s life. They were a good match.
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~FIN~
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Author’s note: this was lowkey inspired by a comment in a jennamarbles video from two years ago about Julien being a great cook but a tornado around the kitchen leaving a mess, and Jenna following around and picking up the disaster zone cause boy doesn’t know how to throw away a paper towel
I thought that sounded like how Jake and Amy’s partnership in a kitchen would be like
So yeah, this fic was conceived of back in 2016, published now because all the peraltiago stuff looked so sad this morning on AO3
In which there are jello molds and a dick joke (they’re related) and visits to politically relevant locations, Steve is a bit of a yenta, Bucky is metaphorically chased by a frozen chicken, Natasha goes to extreme measures to apologize, and everyone’s okay in the end.
A lil’ Throwback Thursday fun with Sinn and Torian
GROWL!
What in the galaxy is that? Sinn thought as she stirred awake, sounded like a rancor was loose in her room. The noise sounded again and she realized with chagrin that it was her stomach. Chuckling at her overactive imagination she wondered what'd prompted such a gut-check reaction.
Then she smelled it, the rich scent redolent of spices wafting through the ship. Throwing one of her Da's oversized shirts on over her cropped tank top and shorts she padded barefoot down to the galley to investigate, following the scent to a large pot on the stove. Lifting the lid revealed a cloud of fragrant steam and a thick stew. She closed her eyes to breathe in the heavy unfamiliar scent and her mouth started watering.
"Oh!"
The sudden exclamation startled her and she dropped the lid with a loud clatter. Her cheeks burned bright red at being caught in her nosiness as she turned around and she was surprised to see Torian - oddly enough blushing equally as red - holding an empty pot.
"Where'd this come from?" She managed to ask, trying hard to swallow her embarrassment, "Don't smell like something the ship's droid whipped up."
"Was craving a taste of home," he admitted as he set the empty pot down and ran his hand through his unruly blonde hair. "I'm used to a campfire, already had to throw out one batch because it burned."
She bent down and sniffed again, enjoying the complex scent. "You made this?" she asked with a smile, feeling less embarrassed and slightly amazed. "Smells divine, what is it?" He looked surer of himself as he walked over, picking up the lid she dropped then stirring the pot.
"Red gourd stew."
He scooped a small bite into a spoon and offered it to her. She leaned in noting that he watched her face intently as she blew on the bite then tasted it. The heavy spices added depth to the stew as she rolled it over her tongue thoughtfully and nodded her approval.
"It's..." She started saying but as soon as air hit her tongue, BOOM! The flavor went thermal detonator in her mouth causing her to gasp. Her second breath caused the heat to run down her throat and she clambered to the cooling unit for some water. She managed to swig enough that she could breathe normally and stared at Torian. His laser-bright, blue eyes shone brighter with amusement as he pressed his lips shut, returning to stir the pot.
"You planned that," she accused, her voice raspy but full of humor as she saw Torian's shoulders shake.
"Did not," he said. "Just used the usual spices. Heturam, mouth burn, a sign of good Mando food."
He took a bite, looking pleased as his own cheeks flushed slightly. Taking another long drink she looked him over. He looked completely as home in the galley, relaxed in one of the undershirts he usually wore under his beskar and a pair of fatigue pants. This is nice, she thought smiling, she liked that he looked so comfy; something felt natural about having him around.
"Can you keep a secret?" she asked.
He looked questioningly at her as she put a finger to her lip in a shushing gesture, then walked over to one of the side panels and opened a door to a hidden compartment she'd found when they'd stolen Glory. Reaching in she pulled out the last piece of ryshcate she'd stashed away from Mako. Normally the rich, brown Corellian whiskey cake could give her a buzz just from the aroma but her senses were still so shell-shocked from Torian's stew she could barely smell it. Breaking off a bite she offered it to him but he looked at it warily.
"Just 'cause you seared half my taste buds to the roof of my mouth don't mean I'm getting back at you," she chuckled. "Here's my taste of home." He took a bite and she was thrilled to see his eyes widen in enjoyment.
"Whoa," he said, "What is that?"
"Ryshcate," she said proudly. "Corellian whiskey cake, with extra vweilu nuts. A favorite of my Da's so I learned the recipe for him. Just don't tell Mako. She finds out I made a batch and hid it from her I'll never hear the end of it."
This time he looked surprised. "You made this?" He echoed her earlier disbelief, "Didn't peg you for the baking type."
"This body's built for comfort Baby, not speed," she asserted as she patted her ass. "Curves like these don't come from ration bars."
His eyes travelled up and down her form, reminding her that though her over-shirt was baggy, it hung open revealing the skimpy clothes she'd gone to bed in and she resisted the urge to fidget. Suddenly she was painfully aware of how she must look in her night clothes with her brown hair mussed from bed. But there was appreciation in his gaze as it slowly trailed up her long sleek legs, and hesitated a moment on her generous chest before he flushed again.
"Well, they're in all the right spots," he said quietly, and she blushed a little herself at the rare compliment. He popped the last of his piece into his mouth, grinning again."Any way I can get more?"
Sinn shook her head. "After what you pulled, you're lucky you got that," she said then took a bite with an exaggerated moan. She figured he'd shrug her off and go back to his stew but instead he came closer to her, his eyes warming up.
"I'll share mine with you," he wheedled. "Got lots of stew and I'm just asking for another little bite."
His eyes were sparkling now and he made a quick snatch at her hands. Grinning at the playful gleam in his eyes, she put her hands behind her back as she shook her head again.
"Back off grabby," she laughingly scolded. "It's hard enough to get enough vweilu nuts to make a proper batch."
His hand darted out again and she backed up until her ass hit the counter. Looking up at him quickly she knew he could tell that she was trapped. There was a sharp flare in his eyes that the hunter in her recognized, the thrill of having your prey cornered. A knowing smile appeared on his face as he took another step towards her and she gave him a quick wink, then made a break for it.
Lunging to the side with a laugh she managed to avoid his first grab at her, but her escape options were limited since she was forced to follow the length of the counter. She paused, then faked a lunge to the left before heading to the right. He seemed to have anticipated her move however, following her feint but taking a long stride in the direction she headed.
His eyes were bright with laughter as he grabbed at her again and she tried jumping away but his reach was longer than she calculated. She only made it a step before he caught her, his hand grasping at her waist and pulling her to him. Laughing even louder, she turned her back to him still keeping the piece of cake away even when she collided to his chest.
He wrapped one arm around her midsection reaching his other out trying to grab the cake from her hands, but thanks to her height her arms were just long enough to keep it out of reach. Pulling her more secure to him she heard him chuckling through playful growls as she flailed, swaying her outstretched arms hold onto her prize.
She wiggled against his chest trying to squirm away, still laughing as he held her snug to him. Then something in her shifted, like her body realized all at once where she was. Arched against Torian she was suddenly aware of his firm chest, the strength of his arm against her bare midriff and the scruff of his stubble on the skin of her neck. She was still keeping the treat away from him, but part of her wanted to slide against him and savor his touch the way she'd savored the cake not moments before.
With a sigh she relaxed against him, soaking in his warmth and it felt like he responded instantly to her body's signal. A quiet 'oh' caressed her throat and his arm tightened while his fingers stroked at her waist. He continued reaching for the cake in her hands but there was less effort in it, like it was no longer the prize he was after. She swallowed hard as she heard a shuddering breath and felt the heat of it as his mouth drew closer to her skin. They paused like that, prolonging the charged moment, neither pushing it further.
"What is that smell?"
Mako's voice carried loudly to them before her footsteps indicated how close she was the galley. Torian's arm dropped and she turned to face him, seeing he wore a guilty look that she probably mirrored.
Breaking the piece of cake apart she nudged half to his mouth. "Here," she whispered loudly, "Destroy the evidence." Popping the other half in hers they shared the last bit of ryshcate and a conspiratorial look.
Sinn had just finished chewing and managed to swallow as Mako came into the galley still rubbing sleep from her eyes. The slicer looked from Sinn to Torian and started smirking. "And what are you two up to?" she asked and the pair exchanged another look.
"Not a thing," Sinn said, shrugging innocently. "Just cooking."
Mako looked back at Torian who was busying himself stirring his stew and huffed. "If you're so bent on cooking," she said, "You need to make up another batch of that ryshcate. Seems like forever since the last one." Sinn had to force back her smile but caught Torian's eye again and saw he was doing the same, his blue eyes still sparkling at her.
"Well Lil' bit, if you're hungry you might try that stew Torian whipped up," she volunteered, still fighting her laughter, "What do you think Torian?"
"You got it," he said as he ladled up a bowl and handed it to Mako while giving Sinn a wink, and she made a mental note to find more vweilu nuts.
