Kiss the Cook ("A Star to Sail Her By")

Did you know that kohanok eggs explode if you heat them over 177C? Not pop, explode, like little blue grenades. I sure as hell didn't.

For a moment, I could hear the news headlines. “Commander Katherine Shepard, bane of Reapers, Geth and Collectors, tragically killed by cooking attempt.”

Thankfully, the oven was unusually structurally sound and the fire extinguisher was handy, sitting right next to the datapad of recipes and the epinephrine pen. The blast popped the oven door open, but did no major damage. Good. Gardner'd kill me if I broke his baby. I picked myself up off the ground, my combat reflexes a little too good. I felt a couple bits of goo in my hair. “Gahhh...” I picked them out and looked at the devastation.

“Well, shit,” I said to no one in particular, thanking my lucky stars that the Normandy was, by and large, completely empty. After everything that happened with the Collectors, everyone needed some shore leave in a very big way. The crew chose the Citadel for some r&r, drinking, dancing, and getting into trouble, all of which I heartily encouraged. The team chose to scatter for a couple weeks. All of us needed a break. Few of them left forwarding addresses for the interim. I knew Mordin was visiting his nephew, and Thane was catching up with his son. Tali was back at the Migrant Fleet. Garrus, Joker and I were the only ones spending any time near the ship, and the two of them were running errands around the Citadel somewhere this afternoon.

At least I hoped they were.

After I cautiously peeked around to make sure no one had heard the bang, I looked back over the datapad. It was a bit disheartening. I'm guessing the English translation of the turian cookbook was a touch faulty. I picked up chunks of mostly-cooked kohanok egg from the surrounding area, wiping blue goo off the cabinet doors. The pot simmering on the stove was bubbling ominously, having turned from a pretty purple vegetable to a strange neon-green glop that I sincerely doubted was the intended end goal of the recipe. With a wince, I sniffed at the pot. Oh, hell no.

It was time to suck up my pride. I headed to a nearby terminal and hailed the Neema. Hopefully Tali could lend a hand.

I lucked out.

“Shepard! It's so good to hear your voice!” Tali sounded relieved. “It's been nothing but politics here... I hope your vacation is going better.”

“Well, sort of...”

“Oh no! Is everyone alright?” She sounded almost panicked. Can't blame her... our lives have been nonstop urgency for so long now.

“Everyone's fine, don't worry. I...” God, I felt dumb. “I had kind of a weird question for you.”

Tali cocked her head. “Oh?”

“Umm...” Spit it out. “Do you know much about... cooking?”

“Cooking? Food?”

“Yeah. I....” OK, now the explanation was going to be...tricky. “I've been trying to hash out a couple dextro recipes, and it's not...going...well...” A smell had wafted my way. I looked back at the pot of goo, which was now trying to escape onto the stovetop. I yelped and dove for it, killing the burner.

“Shepard!” I rerouted the comm channel to a portable terminal, parking it on the counter.

“It's ok... I think I caught it before it could do much damage.”

“What is that?” I could see her peering past me at the stove. The pot gave a sickening belch, then settled.

I looked at the datapad. “B'henna pod?”

“Oh. Oh my.” I could hear her trying desperately to stifle laughter. “Did you... how long did you cook it?”

“Well, the cookbook said sixty minutes...”

“Seconds.” The giggles were slipping out. “If you cook it much longer it...does that.”

“Shit.”

She lost it. “Hot date tonight?” she managed between giggles.

“What? I mean no. I mean...” Oh give it up already. I let out a defeated growl. “I was trying to surprise him.”

“So you two ARE...!”

“Yes.” I sighed.

She clasped her hands, girlish glee in her voice. “How long?”

“Sorta since we picked him up on Omega.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling myself blushing.

“Sorta?”

“Well, we didn't do anything about it until..” The pot blurped again. I eyed it nervously. “God, I think it's trying to communicate...”

She laughed again, then glanced over her shoulder. She gave an exasperated groan. “Keelah... I hear Admiral Zaal'Koris coming. I've got to go.” She poked at her omnitool. “I'll send you a few recipes and cooking vids when I can. Veetor works in the mess on his ship...I'll ask him.”

“Thanks Tali.”

“Good luck, Shepard.” She gave a little wave and a giggle. The screen went blank.

I leaned my hands on the counter and looked into the bowls that remained. The keynar juice had gone black and sticky. Apparently when the recipe said 'fresh keynar juice', it really meant it. “Fuck.” The other bowl was full of a brown mealy substance that was refusing to come together, even though I'd added half again the liquid the recipe called for. It smelled like burnt toast , sulfur and cinnamon. Sadly, it was probably the most successful dish I'd produced. I picked up a pinch of it and tasted it. Crunchy, sandy, and tasted about as good as it smelled. I spat it out in the sink. Maybe it's supposed to taste like that... I felt my throat closing, so I grabbed the epinephrine pen and jammed the point into my thigh. I felt my heart start racing, and my throat settled back down.

“Fuuuuck.” I folded my arms on the counter and rested my head on them. I could command a ship, kill a thresher maw on foot, recruit felons and saints for a suicide mission and bring them back alive. A simple domestic task? “Fuckityfuckfuck.” I kicked the counter without raising my head. I heard the bowls rattle.

Just then, I heard voices. Joker? Or was it... My head whipped towards the elevator. Not in sight yet, but I heard footsteps approaching fast.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Frantically, I chucked the keynar residue and the other dishes of failure into the oven, closing the door with a bang, cringed at the noise, then turned to deal with the b'henna creation.

“See ya, Garrus!” I heard Joker turn back, his footsteps fading back towards the elevator.

Oh...

Garrus rounded the corner as I tried to hide the pot on the stove behind my back. It left an almost phosphorescent trail on the stovetop, like some giant neon slug.

...shit.

I saw him sniff the air and wince before he saw me, trying to look casual, hands behind my back. Nothing to see here. Nope.

His hand covered his mouth for a moment, shoulders shaking slightly. I closed my eyes and wished I'd wound up Collector chow.

“Oh...Shepard...you cooked?” His voice was strained, his eyes bright with mirth. He was doing his best not to laugh. I hung my head. His eyes rested on the discarded epinephrine pen and raised what passed for an eyebrow.

“I'm not sure what I did in here could properly be called 'cooking,'” I replied glumly. Some of the goo leaked onto my hand, slimy and quickly cooling.

He stepped forward and put his hand on my arm, peeking behind me as he did so.

“Was that... I mean, is that b'henna pod?” he asked.

I sighed. “It was...at one point. Then it achieved sentience and tried to escape.”

His shoulders shook. I give him a lot of credit for self-control. His mandibles twitched. “Oh.”

“I think it's going to try to get recognized by the Council.”

He coughed.

“Voting membership. Vegetable rights for all.”

That cinched it. A hearty cackle rang out, loud enough that he winced and covered his mouth again. “I... I'm sorry... I...am so..so sorry...” He tried to rein it in, but was helplessly laughing for a solid minute. I hung my head again, then joined him. It WAS pretty damned funny.

I went to wipe my hand off on my pants. He caught my arm and grabbed a dish towel. “That...that'll never come out...” Still laughing, he wrapped the towel around my hand, gently wiping it off.

Once he could breathe again, he wiped his eyes, then gamely poked at the b'henna creature with a finger.

“You don't have to...” I tried to stop him, but he tasted it anyway. I didn't know his eyes could open that wide.

“It's....” His tongue worked around in his mouth for a moment, a myriad of expressions crossing his face. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Vile?” I offered.

He hooked his arm around my waist and pressed his forehead against mine.

“Thank you. For trying.” His fingers tousled my hair. He chuffed softly, picking something out of my hair and flicking it away.

I sighed. “Kohanok egg.” I made a little exploding gesture with my fingers. “Kaboom.”

He pulled me closer, trying to hide the laugh.

I smiled up at him. “We could order out...” I offered.

His eyes met mine. “Or we could skip to dessert.”

“Race you to the elevator.”

“You're on.”