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The class was less crowded than Dick had expected, though he wasn;t about to complain about that. If he was lucky he could get a whole station to himself, and not need to worry about creating a mess or hazard for whoever was working beside him. He turned, barely taking a step before colliding with someone else.
The carton of eggs in her hands flew up into the air before promptly crashing back down, covering the two of them in egg.
Her hands flew up, covering her mouth before she grabbed the corner of her apron and began attempting to wipe some of the egg off of him, apologies flowing the whole time.
“I am so so so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, I really should have been. I am so sorry you have egg all over your clothes and in your hair. I’m sorry.”
He laughed, batting her hands away gently as he took a step back to assess the damage, and returned the favor of wiping a few eggs off of her.
“Hey, no worries. It happens. Worse mishaps have happened at my house. Do you have a station yet?”
“No.”
“Want to join mine?”
“Are you sure? I can be…. a bit of a klutz.”
“Positive.”
She smiled as she joined him at the station. Disappearing a bit awkwardly to replace the lost eggs before settling down next to him. The two paid attention to the instructor’s words before falling to a silence as they were left to their own devices for a little bit. Dick watched as she moved through the small space effortlessly, and yet seemed to get frustrated when it came to combine the ingredients. Though he couldn’t say he was much better, struggling to use the egg beater to the efficiency his station partner seemed to manage. The silence between the two was broken as she looked over at him with a small smile.
“I’m Marinette, by the way.”
“Dick. So, do you mind if I ask why you’re here? I mean you seem to know your way around a kitchen.”
“I can not cook. I can bake just fine. Baking comes as easy to me as breathing. I have been doing it since I could walk. But cooking . Augh ! Cooking is a whole other beast. That. That I cannot do. Everytime I try it’s just a disaster and you would think I should never step foot into a kitchen again. Then I bake and it's a redemption. But the fact that cooking escapes me frustrates me to no end.”
Dick laughed as she explained, gesturing with her hands as she spoke, almost knocking her eggs over, had it not been for Dick, lunging forwards to push them back to safety, her face flushing as she muttered, “Thank you,” before deflecting his question back at him.
“Most of my family is typically banned from the kitchen, but my grandfather’s birthday is coming up soon so I’m trying to gain cooking rights to surprise him with dinner.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“If I can pull it off with the kitchen looking somewhat intake it will be a success.”
She laughed. “I believe you can do it.”
“You’d be surprised. The last time I attempted anything, we had flour over everything in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure that was a huge fire hazard.”
“Definitely a big one until it settles. It can actually be really explosive if you aren’t careful, especially when it’s hanging in the air as dust. It is very flammable and explosive if you are careless.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“One of my friends, he grew up very sheltered and his boyfriend grew up on a boat. The two of them raided my kitchen to bake a cake for my birthday and well- boom. I found the microwave embedded in the ceiling,” she told him laughing.
“How did they-”
“I, quite frankly, am too scared to ask how they accomplished that. It stayed up there for almost two weeks before falling out. Nearly crushed me.”
The two spent the rest of class, cooking and chatting, telling stories about their own or their friends’ and families’ kitchen mishaps. The worst of the worst and the best of the best.
In the end they had each created a fairly decent frittata. Dick’s was a bit overcooked, nearing the color of burnt egg, looking almost like it had started to rust while Marinette’s had come out just a tad underbaked, with some liquid leaking out when it was cut, flooding the vacant spaces. So both were edible, and they took that as a great success.
Marinette held her hand out for a fist bump. He laughed, beating his own against hers.
“We did it.”
“Yeah we did,” she agreed, grabbing her bag, as she hung her apron up, Dick right behind her. “It was great meeting you, Dick. Will I see you here next week?”
“I’m going to try to, but I’ll be here. Wouldn’t want to miss making lasagna now would I?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” she laughed as she began to pull away from him. “I need to run but I’ll see you next week!”
“Marinette!” he called, hurrying to catch up. “I don’t know if you’d be interested in getting dinner together sometimes? I can’t guarantee a home cooked meal, but we could get take away or go out,” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’d love to,” she said, pulling a pen out of her bag, and holding a hand out, looking pointedly at his arm. She grinned, taking it in her hand and going to work, quickly scribbling down her number. “Feel free to shoot me a text whenever!” she told him before hurrying off, glancing back once to wave as she went on her way.
Dick laughed, waving back as he walked over to his car, glancing down at his arm with a smile as he read what she’d written there.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng
(555) 555-5555 <3