The One: Maxon

A short: cookin'

a/n
I've been super busy with school lately which is why I haven't updated but here's a short I wrote a while ago for your patience! <3

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"What's all this?" asked America after I uncovered her eyes. We were in the kitchen this Saturday afternoon. It was a little bit after lunch and I had asked the head chef to clear a section of the kitchen for us. We were alone apart from the few people in the back who were still cleaning platters.

"Remember when I told you I as a terrible cook? Well I wanted to try this with you. After you um," I lowered my voice, "got shot at, it put things in perspective. That must have been really scary for you so I wanted to do something that scares me too bad perhaps could offer you some amusement. Even though it's not quite the same," I said smiling. She grinned and poked my cheek.

"The prince of Illéa afraid of cooking? Who would have known," she teased.

"More of a fear that I'll be hopeless since I've never tried. You're going to have to teach me." She turned to grab two aprons off of the hook by the cabinet, giving one to me and putting the other on herself.

"How come I get the pink one?" I said with a fake pout.

"Amateurs can't be choosers," she sang. "What are we making?"

"I thought we could start with something easy and Marl- uh, a friend suggested a boxed cake." I opened the lower cupboard and pulled out three boxes of cake mix, each a different kind. "We have red velvet, vanilla and lemon. Which should we make?"

"Why not all three? We can make a tier cake," she replied. I raised an eyebrow suspiciously. She may have more experience with cooking and I doubted she had made a triple tiered cake before, but I kept silent. All the supplies were already out: the bowls, whisks, and cake trays.

I started mixing dry ingredients together and it seemed simple enough. America suggested we make a competition for two kinds and then make the third together. I protested saying it was unfair because I had never cooked or baked anything but she insisted I would be "like a pro". I was making the vanilla and she took the red velvet cake. I glanced over my shoulder to try to peek at America's station and was met with a wonderful scene. She was humming and moving her body to the sound, her thick ponytail swaying side to side. I took a mental picture as I laughed. She turned around in surprise, flour on her face. I started laughing harder.

"What's so funny?" she said with her hands on her hips.

"Nothing darling," I said turning back around. All I had left to do was add the wet ingredients and mix them. I chose the electric whisker, thinking it must be easier than hand whisking. I pressed the button repeatedly, trying to turn it on before I realized it wasn't even plugged in. I bent down to connect the cord to the wall, not remembering that the whisk was already switched on and sitting in my bowl. The whisk spurred to life and sent half of my batter flying around the room.

"Crap!" I cursed. I stood too abruptly and hit my head on the counter above me. America turned around after getting splattered by the gooey ingredients and ran toward my bowl to turn it off.

"Maxon!" she exclaimed with a laugh. I groaned and rubbed my head as I stood. She looked adorable with flour hanging off her lashes and her apron dirtied with my cake. "The ingredients are supposed to stay inside the bowl." I looked at her unmanned station and saw her perfectly neat area apart from the few spots of flour on the floor.

"Well there goes our vanilla cake," I said.

"We can just turn them into cake pops instead," she said cleaning up my mess. I brushed her hands away.