Soup Shenanigans (Actually soup, not smut)
Summary: Feyre asks Cassian to teach her how to cook. The rest of the inner circle decides they need to help (but they’re not actually helping).
Word count: 2117
I’m pretty proud of this, please let me know what you think!
“You can cook, right?” I asked, grunting as I blocked a punch from the Illyrian war general. I made to catch Cassian’s open right side with my own fist, but he stepped out of the way, putting me off balance.
“Oh, Feyre,” the male grinned, barely catching my shoulder with a fist, “You are looking at the best cook in the entire Illyrian army.”
I started to make a jab at his shoulder then ducked under his arm. “Will you–”
A breath whooshed out of me as Cassian caught me with an arm around my middle, allowing him to toss me to the ground. “Ouch. Teach me to cook?” I winced as I sat back up.
“Good warm up, but you didn’t twist fast enough to get behind me.” The general offered his hand and pulled me to my feet. “What makes you want to learn how to cook?”
“Why do you know how to cook?” I countered.
“Well, you already know how I grew up,'' he started, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher nearby, “Living off whatever I could find. Once I got to a point where I had access to ingredients and a kitchen, I decided I wanted to learn to make the most out of my improved situation.” He shrugged. “I think I just appreciate the art of cooking since I spent the first part of my life with little to no cooked food.”
I nodded my head. I hadn’t met many in Prythian who knew the true mark starvation left even years later, but Cassian understood. Truly. “My family went years living off of whatever I could find in the woods.” I took a sip of the water he handed me. “But it’s different now. There are all sorts of spices and meats and vegetables in Velaris. Food no longer just has to be for survival–so why not find some enjoyment in it?” I met his eyes. “Especially with immortality ahead of me.”
Cassian clapped his hand on my shoulder, heading back towards the sparring ring. “Mor’s had over five centuries and still can’t even boil an egg. But she didn’t have me as a teacher.” I chuckled and he shot me a cocky grin.
“So you’ll teach me?”
“Of course I’ll teach you. You are one of my finest pupils, afterall,” he added, gesturing to the training area around us. I raised my hands into a fighting position, ready for another round.
...
I couldn’t help but giggle a little at the infamous war general of the Night Court’s Illyrian army, standing before me in an apron. I had just tied a similar one around my own waist, and now stood in the small kitchen in the cabin where I had accepted the mating bond. I’d asked Cassian if we could have our first cooking lesson here–away from the others. Afterall, I’d only picked up a spatula a handful of times in my life before.
“Today we are starting with soup!” Cassian announced, already pulling pots and utensils out of the cupboards.
I snickered at that, remembering the last time I’d made soup in this cabin. I couldn’t help it–I shot down the bond at Rhys, Cassian and I are making soup at the cabin, and added on a wink at the end. Had to keep my mate on his toes somehow.
I began pulling the ingredients I’d brought with us out of the bag. Among them were chicken, several types of vegetables, and several liquids, along with a few jars of spices. I inhaled the lovely scent of the spices as Cassian began explaining how to cut chicken for soup.
“Once it’s cut up, we’ll put it in the pan to cook. Then we’ll start cutting up the onion and cook that in the p–”
The door crashed open, Cassian and I both scrambling for a weapon, only for a dark form to stomp through the threshold. “Rhys? I thought you were in a meeting!” I willed my heartbeat to slow back down.
“I was, but then I found out my mate is making soup for my brother, alone, at–”
“Rhys, calm–” Cassian sputtered.
“Cassian’s teaching me to cook!” I interrupted them both. I winced.
Rhys blinked. I’m sorry, I shot down the bond, I didn’t mean to upset you.
In an instant, my mate visibly relaxed, closing the door behind him. He smirked at me. Feyre darling, you can’t tease me like that. But I’ll forgive you if you let me try your soup. And maybe eat a little something else afterwards.
Cassian’s eyes darted between us, no doubt realizing we were having a silent conversation. “Rhys, stop flirting with my student or get out.”
My mate just winked at me before crossing the room and sitting at the table. In the same spot he sat last time I made him soup here. I scowled at him before turning back to Cassian.
“As I was saying,” he shot a sideways glare towards the male at the table, “We’ll cook the onion in the pan with the chicken.” He passed me a knife and began setting things on the cutting board for me.
I tried to concentrate on his directions, but I could feel Rhys’s gaze on my back. Stop staring at my ass, I’m trying to concentrate.
But it looks so delicious, as I’m sure your soup will be. My skin heated. Of course he would take this as an opportunity to flirt.
I was half listening to Cassian’s directions to add the onion to the large pot when my hand bumped the side of the pot. I hissed and pulled it back.
“And that’s why I told you to be careful,” Cassian chastised, “And to pay attention.”
I summoned a layer of frost to that part of my skin as I glared at Rhys. He just gave me an innocent look back, so I slammed my mental shields down, blocking him out.
“Next we’ll add the vegetables and saute them with the chicken until they’re cooked.” Cassian motioned for me to add the carrots and celery I’d just finished cutting. I dumped them into the pot, making sure to keep my hands well away from the side. “I’ll start measuring out the spices while you stir.”
I began stirring. And stirring. And stirring some more. “How do I know when they’re done cooking?” The chicken was no longer pink, but the vegetables looked the same.
“The carrots and celery will be softer. They need a while yet.”
“Can’t I just turn the heat up?”
“Impatient much?” he teased.
I stuck my tongue out at him and turned the heat up a little when he turned away from me. I remembered Rhysand was sitting behind us, and I quickly faced him and put my finger to my lips. More heat should mean they cook faster, right? I sent down the bond before slamming my shield again. Rhys’s grin just widened, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Here are the spices we’re going to use today…” Cassian launched into an explanation of which spices he picked out and why. I breathed in their wonderful smell.
A fist pounded on the door and a heavy sigh escaped my lips. Now who was here?
“What smells so–ooh what are you cooking?” Mor’s cheery voice rang out as she entered. Amren followed close behind.
“Soup. Cassian is teaching me to make soup. In private,” I said with just a little bite, which Mor ignored. “Why are you here?”
“We were looking for Rhys, but we can talk about that later. I’m hungry,” her stomach growled, right on queue.
Amren sat at the chair beside my mate. “Is soup any good? If it’s anything like what we had the other night–”
“With me as her teacher, Feyre’s soup will be the greatest, most life-altering soup you’ve consumed in your very, very long existence,” Cassian said proudly. Mor snorted when she noticed his apron.
“You dolt, I’ve only had to eat regular food for a handful of months,” Amren snapped.
“Well, Feyre is very delicious in the kitchen,” Rhys said. “I meant, Feyre’s food.” He winked at me. I rolled my eyes. Horny prick.
Just as I was about to turn back to Cassian for the next step, the door opened once again, and Azriel quietly stepped through. Of course–why wouldn’t he be here too?
The Shadowsinger paused. “Is something burning?”
My eyes widened. I turned to the stove–sure enough, tendrils of smoke were curling from the pan.
“Feyre, what did I say about turning the heat up?!” Cassian quickly shoved the pan off the burner and turned down the temperature. I winced. “It should be salvageable, but–”
“Ha! See, I’m not the only one who’s bad at cooking!” Mor cackled, hovering over my shoulder.
I opened my mouth to defend myself but Cassian spoke first. “This is my kitchen, and you will not insult my student. Now, Mor, you can either sit down and be quiet or leave.”
“It’s my kitchen, actually,” Rhys murmured. Mor just sat at the table across from him and crossed her arms with a pout.
“Well if it’s your kitchen, then why don’t you get up here and start helping?” Cassian shot back. Rhys said nothing, just sprawled back in his chair. “Oh that’s right, you don’t know how to cook either, oh mighty High Lord.”
Azriel snorted from the place he’d taken up against the wall. Rhys opened his mouth to say something, no doubt to his spymaster, but I spoke first. “Rhysand, don’t you dare say whatever was about to come out of your mouth.” His dark brows shot up. “All of you, be quiet until the soup is done.” I glared at each of them for good measure. Nobody said anything else. Good.
Cassian took a deep breath as he slid the pot back onto the burner. “As I was saying, now we’ll add the cream and start making the broth…” I listened carefully to his instructions, doing my best to ignore the shuffling sounds coming from behind me. They were absolutely mouthing words and gesturing to each other.
I followed Cassian’s instructions for the broth, and he patiently answered the questions I asked. The pot was getting much fuller, and it was actually starting to look like soup now. Thank the Cauldron.
Just as we were about to dump the spices Cassian had measured into the pot, Azriel spoke up. “Brother–”
I whirled on him. The Shadowsinger’s eyes widened and he froze. My eyes narrowed. “Do you have something helpful to say?”
“I was just going to ask Cass why he was using so much oregano if–”
Before he could get the rest of his sentence out, the entire cabin broke into argument. Cassian’s hand turned over the rest of the way and the spices fell into the pot.
“At least I know how to boil water on a stove–” Mor shouted at Rhys.
“Why would I need a stove when I can heat it with magic?” Rhys argued.
“Actually,” Azriel cut in, “it’s easier to control the temperature using a stove because–”
“Everyone stop talking right now!” I shouted. The four immortal fae children stopped talking and turned to face me. I was kind of surprised that worked–and proud of how steady my High Lady voice came out. I willed my next sentence to come out at a normal volume. “Cassian and I are finished with the soup. You may all grab a bowl now and try some.”
The five of them took their turns to ladle soup into their bowls. Finally, we all sat ourselves around the cramped table–which Rhys must have summoned two more chairs for.
Amren was the first to take a bite. I held my breath, waiting for her to say something. Everyone watched her. “Girl, this soup…” she closed her eyes for a moment then looked at me. “This soup makes me glad I was turned into a High Fae.”
The five of us stared at her, stunned. Even Azriel’s mouth hung open for a moment, then all at once everyone began shoveling soup into their mouths and murmuring appreciation for it.
“Who’s the best cooking teacher? That’s right, it’s me.” Cassian began boasting.
I felt Rhys’s hand press into my leg beneath the table. Feyre darling, your soup is exquisite. This might even rival the last time I ate your soup at this cabin.
I chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Maybe afterwards we can do some other things we did last time, I shot back at him.
Mor loudly slurped from the side of her bowl, interrupting our silent conversation. “Alright Feyre, Cass, when’s the next lesson going to be? You better let us come along.”
