Simmer
(( A short fic based on this fun test animation of Tamora cooking by Shawn Lee! Hope you enjoy! ))
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Everything was going wrong.
She was trying to pull her weight by cooking a warm meal but faced adversity at every turn. Water boiled over on the stove, and uncooked pasta covered the floor. The instructions made it seem simple, so why did this feel like the most grueling battle she’d faced today? Why couldn’t she just do it?
With a shout, she reached for her firearm, targeting the recipe book with a barrage of plasma bullets. As she just about unloaded her clip, the kitchen door swung open.
“Tammy Jean, cease fire!” a voice commanded, cutting through her rage and ending the bombardment. The sergeant lowered her weapon, tucking it back into her inventory as she turned towards the person she’d effectively been “fighting” for.
His small frame stood in the doorway, breathing heavily as he surveyed the room, the distress deepening on his face as he observed the smoking bullet holes peppering his cabinetry.
“Fix-It…” Tamora whispered as the weight of her actions settled in. As it turned out, adjusting to domestic life was more difficult than any boot camp, and she’d just failed miserably.
And like any other humbled private, she stood awaiting her reprimands.
“Tamora,” the handyman said after quietly drinking in the scene. “Were you…trying to make dinner?”
Eyes cast downward, she gave him a sullen nod in response.
The 8-bit removed his cap to scratch his head, recontextualizing her baffling behavior.
“Well, I can understand how that can be stressful…But Tammy, you can’t just shoot up the place when things don’t go your way.”
Somehow, the calmness of Felix’s reaction stung worse than the anger she’d expect from anyone else in his shoes. Was this that “killing with kindness” business she’d heard about? If so, she had to admit it was an effective tactic.
“Did you take a calming breath?”
“I did…” Tamora swallowed. “Right before pumping the recipe book full of holes.”
Felix looked down, picking up the Swiss-cheese-like silhouette of his cookbook off the floor.
“You probably should have taken a second breath then, honeybadger,” he chuckled.
The boiling pot of water caught his attention, and he stepped over to the burner to shut it off. His boot connected with the pot lid on the floor, and he felt its toasty temperature through his gloves as he picked it up.
“Did you burn yourself?” the handyman looked up at her with concern.
“It’s fine,” Tamora wrote it off, keeping her arms behind her back.
“Tam,” Felix replied with a measure of annoyance. He held out his hand, and she reluctantly offered hers.
His eyes went wide as he inspected her palm and fingers.
“Well it’s no wonder you got so upset,” he said, gesturing to the red blisters on her delicate skin. “This is not fine.”
With a flick of his wrist, he wielded his hammer and lightly tapped it against her wound. A warm glow washed over her, and the stinging ceased.
“Thank you…” this was the first time she’d experienced his reparative magic first-hand. She moved her fingers as a soft tingling sensation lingered; so that’s what it felt like. “But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I’m sorry.”
Wincing at the bits of pasta that crunched under her, Tamora knelt to match the handyman’s height.
“You do so much, and I wanted to contribute. But it all blew up in my face.”
Felix smiled, and stepping over to the far pantry cabinet, pulled out the dustpan and broom.
“Then let's pick up the pieces together,” he said.
While Tamora worked to sweep up the floor, Felix used his hammer to fix the cabinets and erase every bullet hole he could find. Last, but not least, he tapped the cookbook and flipped through its pages.
“Okay; spaghetti…” he hummed, placing the book on its stand atop the kitchen island. He did a double take at the frayed edges of a page still missing. “Honey? Where is the—”
“Hmm?” Tamora moved quickly, standing straight as an arrow in front of the corner by the stove. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tammy…” Felix moved his hands to his hips with an incredulous look.
The sergeant sighed, stepping aside to reveal the book's missing page pinned to the wall with a chef’s knife.
For a moment, the handyman’s mouth hung open, and he closed it in a flat line across his face as he looked up at her. Unfortunately, there was no way around this one. She had very deliberately ripped out a page from his book and stabbed it.
“Sorry,” she said quickly.
The handyman’s brows furrowed a bit, and he bubbled over with laughter. After a few moments, he gathered himself back up, shaking his head. Goodness, he loved her.
“We’re going to need that knife, sweetheart,” he tittered, gesturing for her to hand it over.
With one last guilty look, Tamora grabbed the handle and pulled back roughly. The knife came loose, and she handed it and the page over.
Felix set the knife down and repaired the torn page. Putting his hammer away, he smoothed his fingers over the book’s surface with a contented sigh.
“Alright, let's get started…”
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