[ stepping away for a moment, he opens a drawer and digs around for a whisk. there's not much in his cupboards other than the cutlery he absolutely needs, but once he finds it, he closes the drawer with a nudge of his hip and holds it out for her to take. ]
You need to mix it real well. [ he looks to the batter in the bowl, and knows he could easily give her the electronic whisk to make her experience a little easier. but bellamy's never been particularly kind when he wants to be a pain in the ass. he shrugs and teases, ] That's all I know.
[If only she knew. She takes him at face value this time, and takes the whisk and gets to work. It's not that hard, she's made bombs happen, come on. This is a piece of cake.
[ he shrugs his shoulders, leaning against the counter again. he doesn't reply immediately, opting to watch her as she whisks away. crossing his arms against his chest loosely, he wonders if this is what she looks like when she's making her bombs, or if her expression is pinched more in concentration given how explosive the ingredients she uses tend to be. he's always tried to stay far away from all the powders and containers she uses, giving her space while he remains outside in his area of expertise. ]
Whatever you want. [ he glances toward her whisking movements before he looks up at her again. ] You can make icing, or eat it plain. It's your cake.
[There's always a lot less fast, emphatic hand movements happening when she makes bombs, which she hasn't made in a long time since here. Or more like, never since she got here. It's good; she was never one for making bombs, even if she knows how to make all the things go boom.
Can doesn't always mean I want to.
She looks up at him to find him focused on her whisking, and decides to test the cake mix for taste, at least.] Oh, it's my cake now? I thought the invitation had been 'come let's bake a cake' not 'let me loom while you bake yourself a cake'.
[She dips her pinkie finger inside the batter, scoops some up and licks it clean. It's good.] Local bakeries have all kinds of froofy-looking icing on cake.
[ with the corners of his lips quirked upward, he looks at her with amusement. easily, he says, ] I'm not a local bakery.
[ there's nothing fancy to be found in his kitchen. if he was asked about what he was best at, he's not so sure he'd be able to give anyone an answer — he doesn't have the best view of himself, and he thinks shooting people may not be the best response. but making a cake, no matter how much he wanted to laugh when he'd originally bought the first cake mix, had kept his mind busier than playing a game on his xbox or watching netflix. keeping his hands busy and his mind at work hadn't quite lulled him back to sleep, but it'd pulled him from the mountain. ]
[ he looks back down at the bowl and smiles. ]
And I invited you over to make a cake for yourself. You never asked me who it was for.
[It certainly keeps the hands busy, she knows a lot about that part. She thinks of icing in terms of 'that sweet creamy stuff that goes on top of cake and looks artsy', so of course:] It can't be that hard to make.
[If she ends up eating her own words, well, then so be it! But for now, she lifts the whisk, and while he's busy being a smartass and looking into the bowl like he's grading her performance, she bops him with the whisk on the nose.]
[ he laughs and scrunches up his nose before lifting his hand to wipe at it. he licks away whatever batter's on his fingers before he looks to nike, who's lying on the kitchen floor. when she sees him looking at her, she lifts her head, ears pricking up as though she's about to be given a treat herself. he makes a face at her as she begins to wag her tail, but she rests her head back down onto her paws and the cold floor, resigning herself to not being given another treat. ]
[ looking at her profile, it's then he moves, turning on his foot to reach up to open the cupboard in front of him. standing on the tips of his toes, he pulls out a cake tray, rectangular in shape and medium-sized, and places it down with a clang on the bench. ]
[ then he moves to bend down and turn on his oven, throwing over his shoulder, ] You have to pour it in the tray when it's all smooth. Better be doing a good job at whisking, Raven.
Everything I touch is smooth. [It doesn't happen often, but there are things Raven isn't good at, all the times, and casually attempting to sound flirty seems to be one Achilles heel. Even she flinches at it, and pulls a face.]
[ he looks at the batter and shakes his head, easily seeing there's some clumps in it. for her first try, raven's done pretty well — and he's not surprised by it at all. taking a step closer, he keeps his eyes down when he says, ] You did better than me when I first did this.
[ he doesn't think much of his actions when he reaches out to move the whisk again, tipping the bowl on an angle. if his hand catches hers under it, he only focuses on stirring it round and round in the hopes of the small clumps becoming much smaller. ]
[The joke freezes on the tip of her tongue for a moment, and how sad is she that this little bit of contact is enough to make up for weeks of having not been hugged or cuddled by anyone? It's instructional, she should know better than to focus on it, or get even a hint flustered; Raven Reyes does not.
But she can sort of feel his breath on the side of her neck and it makes her debate between shoving him away and pulling him closer. In the end she chooses neither, just a dry,] I'm good at stuff, so...
[And she takes control of the bowl and whisk again, gaze focused on it, lips in a tight smile for a second.] I've got it.
[ he doesn't think too much of it, letting her hand go. preoccupying himself with sliding the tray closer and straightening it on the counter, he turns himself around again so he can lean the back of his hips against the edge and curl his fingers around it. something's a little off, but then again, raven could be intent to concentrate, determined to show him she's better at making a cake than him on her first go. still, he's an urge away from nudging her arm with his elbow, but forgoes it when he opts to try and see her brighten a little with words. ]
[ looking at her, he smiles and leans forward, ] I thought you were the best at stuff, Raven.
You're not wrong. [She's the best, and that's why she keeps winning at everything. Why her life isn't messy, she's not messy, and everything is splendid.
She pours the mixture into the tray carefully, slowly, and lifts her gaze to meet his,] But you've got no idea how much I can be the best at things.
[ he watches her pour the batter into the tray, finding it amusing how she's displaying her cake making research for him right now. it's cute, and he tries not to think on the reasons why she may have wanted to look up how people made cakes before ever getting the invitation from him to come over and make one. he suspects it's all to do with pride, but there's a niggling in the back of his mind that suggests that isn't the complete story. ]
[ sensing her looking at him, he lifts his head and smiles, brows rising a little in response to her statement. ] Oh, yeah? [ his brows furrow together as his smile widens. ] Think I've already got a good idea of that.
[She even takes care to scoop all of the batter on the edges of the bowl into the tray, diligently, like someone who has maybe watched a few baking videos on youtube at one point and thought 'eh, I could do this'.
It doesn't distract her from raising an eyebrow at his retaliation, nor does it stop her from feeling her pulse suddenly spike up. Chill, Raven, chill.] Sample. You had a sample - that's far from all the things.
[She leans a little too, smile turned purprosefully sharp.] Trust me.
[ holding his hands up, bellamy only smiles, and slides the cake tray off the counter. holding it in one hand, he moves toward his oven, and lowers himself into a squat once he opens the door. it's not necessarily smart to do this without any oven mitts on, but bellamy supposes he likes to live on the edge when it comes to this. he doesn't glance over his shoulder at her when he says, ] That's one thing you don't need to ask me to do. [ she doesn't know all the details, but he'd trusted her with his life inside the mountain, to be his guide when he had no inkling of how to dismantle an acid fog machine. ]
[ he drops it in as lightly as he can on the rack, closes the door, and fiddles with the knobs before he stands up. moving back to stand beside her, he drags his thumb around the thickest part of the leftover batter in the bowl and sucks it off. ] Doesn't taste too bad.
[Of course, he'll deflate her completely with that simple comment, and he probably knows it. He's effective. She lets out a sigh, and doesn't say anything else. Good, she thinks, trusting her is a good bet.
When he joins her up next to the counter again, she swallows down any comment about cleaning up, and licks the batter off the whisk instead. Gets some on her nose, too, accidentally.] Complaints about the taste can be directed to Betty Crocker.
[ smiling, his brows furrow together, ] Who? [ but he doesn't care who betty crocker is. there's names who go with the faces on the shows where they cook things, but bellamy's never been content to pay attention unless they're on real housewives. ]
[ without thinking, he reaches forward to swipe his thumb over the tip of her nose, and licks the batter off the pad of his thumb. ] This is the best part. [ he looks down at the bowl and drags his index finger along it before he sucks that off. ] Only reason to make a cake.
She's on the box. [Did he not notice the box? She rolls her eyes and then freezes again, at the touch of his finger on her nose. And if she looks down at his mouth as he licks it off, and vaguely hears Jem's advice again of you should tell him, well.
[ he laughs, and rests his hips against the counter at an angle so he can continue dragging his fingers along the inside of the bowl and licking the batter off. if they were given the chance to bake cakes on the ark, he knows he would've made mom make one each day just so he could do this. ]
You're weird. [ he glances up at her, smile brightening his face. he licks at his fingers again before he teases her, ] You Googled how to make a cake before you got here. I know it, you know it, [ he taps the box hard. ] Betty even knows it.
You didn't even know who Betty was five seconds ago, don't bring her into it. [As far as defenses go, it's not her best one. It makes her laugh a little, really, and she feels like retaliation is needed so she bops him on the nose with the whisk again.]
[ shaking his head, he smiles. he leaves the batter on his nose, turning away from her to set the box upright. then he flicks it, making it fall down onto the counter. he doesn't pick it up again. ]
Betty agrees. We're good friends.
[ when he drags his fingers along the inside of the bowl, he doesn't lick the batter off again. he swipes his fingers along her cheek — and shrugs his shoulders in mock innocence as he repeats the action inside the bowl with the intention to lick it off. ]
You knocked her down. [Which isn't why she sputters the most, no; that has to do with him actually retaliating with batter to her cheek. It pulls an inexplicable loud, short laugh out of her.]
Oh my god - [She reaches inside the bowl, swipe fingers along the edge to catch some batter, and smears it down in a line from his forehead to his chin.] Your face is weird.
[ scrunching up his face for a moment, bellamy settles on leaving the batter on him as it is. despite the batter feeling cold and odd on his face, he supposes if he wipes at it she'll feel satisfied he's bothered by it. and bellamy's anything but stupidly stubborn when it comes to his refusal of giving anyone what they want. ]
[ so he swipes his fingers and thumb inside the bowl and then takes a step forward, focused on cradling her cheek with his clean hand as he smears batter on her face and above her brow to her forehead like he's some sort of painter. smudging it, he keeps his focus on his fingers, tongue between his teeth for a moment. ] You look better now. Very Zero-G like.
[She has time to take a step back and let out a laugh, a warning laugh that he seems to completely bypass, because that's all her time. Then, there's his hand on her cheek, and so much sticky batter - she was sure she'd cleaned the bowl better than that - going all over her cheek. She lets out a keening sound of protest, standing still with her eyes closed shut and her mouth stretched into a grin.
Does she care that she's dirty? Not really.] You're the worst - [she laughs out, and opens one eye cautiously, then the other.] Here, join the club. [She grabs onto his shoulders, gets up on her toes, and rubs her smudged cheek against his with a delighted laugh.] Revenge.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You need to mix it real well. [ he looks to the batter in the bowl, and knows he could easily give her the electronic whisk to make her experience a little easier. but bellamy's never been particularly kind when he wants to be a pain in the ass. he shrugs and teases, ] That's all I know.
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Or it will be.] So what are we putting on top?
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Whatever you want. [ he glances toward her whisking movements before he looks up at her again. ] You can make icing, or eat it plain. It's your cake.
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Can doesn't always mean I want to.
She looks up at him to find him focused on her whisking, and decides to test the cake mix for taste, at least.] Oh, it's my cake now? I thought the invitation had been 'come let's bake a cake' not 'let me loom while you bake yourself a cake'.
[She dips her pinkie finger inside the batter, scoops some up and licks it clean. It's good.] Local bakeries have all kinds of froofy-looking icing on cake.
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[ there's nothing fancy to be found in his kitchen. if he was asked about what he was best at, he's not so sure he'd be able to give anyone an answer — he doesn't have the best view of himself, and he thinks shooting people may not be the best response. but making a cake, no matter how much he wanted to laugh when he'd originally bought the first cake mix, had kept his mind busier than playing a game on his xbox or watching netflix. keeping his hands busy and his mind at work hadn't quite lulled him back to sleep, but it'd pulled him from the mountain. ]
[ he looks back down at the bowl and smiles. ]
And I invited you over to make a cake for yourself. You never asked me who it was for.
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[If she ends up eating her own words, well, then so be it! But for now, she lifts the whisk, and while he's busy being a smartass and looking into the bowl like he's grading her performance, she bops him with the whisk on the nose.]
Don't come at me with semantics.
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[ looking at her profile, it's then he moves, turning on his foot to reach up to open the cupboard in front of him. standing on the tips of his toes, he pulls out a cake tray, rectangular in shape and medium-sized, and places it down with a clang on the bench. ]
[ then he moves to bend down and turn on his oven, throwing over his shoulder, ] You have to pour it in the tray when it's all smooth. Better be doing a good job at whisking, Raven.
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It's done, look. [It's like 90% smooth.]
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[ he doesn't think much of his actions when he reaches out to move the whisk again, tipping the bowl on an angle. if his hand catches hers under it, he only focuses on stirring it round and round in the hopes of the small clumps becoming much smaller. ]
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But she can sort of feel his breath on the side of her neck and it makes her debate between shoving him away and pulling him closer. In the end she chooses neither, just a dry,] I'm good at stuff, so...
[And she takes control of the bowl and whisk again, gaze focused on it, lips in a tight smile for a second.] I've got it.
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[ looking at her, he smiles and leans forward, ] I thought you were the best at stuff, Raven.
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She pours the mixture into the tray carefully, slowly, and lifts her gaze to meet his,] But you've got no idea how much I can be the best at things.
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[ sensing her looking at him, he lifts his head and smiles, brows rising a little in response to her statement. ] Oh, yeah? [ his brows furrow together as his smile widens. ] Think I've already got a good idea of that.
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It doesn't distract her from raising an eyebrow at his retaliation, nor does it stop her from feeling her pulse suddenly spike up. Chill, Raven, chill.] Sample. You had a sample - that's far from all the things.
[She leans a little too, smile turned purprosefully sharp.] Trust me.
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[ he drops it in as lightly as he can on the rack, closes the door, and fiddles with the knobs before he stands up. moving back to stand beside her, he drags his thumb around the thickest part of the leftover batter in the bowl and sucks it off. ] Doesn't taste too bad.
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When he joins her up next to the counter again, she swallows down any comment about cleaning up, and licks the batter off the whisk instead. Gets some on her nose, too, accidentally.] Complaints about the taste can be directed to Betty Crocker.
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[ without thinking, he reaches forward to swipe his thumb over the tip of her nose, and licks the batter off the pad of his thumb. ] This is the best part. [ he looks down at the bowl and drags his index finger along it before he sucks that off. ] Only reason to make a cake.
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It's because sugar.] You're so weird sometimes.
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[ he laughs, and rests his hips against the counter at an angle so he can continue dragging his fingers along the inside of the bowl and licking the batter off. if they were given the chance to bake cakes on the ark, he knows he would've made mom make one each day just so he could do this. ]
You're weird. [ he glances up at her, smile brightening his face. he licks at his fingers again before he teases her, ] You Googled how to make a cake before you got here. I know it, you know it, [ he taps the box hard. ] Betty even knows it.
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That doesn't make me weird, it makes me prepared.
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[ shaking his head, he smiles. he leaves the batter on his nose, turning away from her to set the box upright. then he flicks it, making it fall down onto the counter. he doesn't pick it up again. ]
Betty agrees. We're good friends.
[ when he drags his fingers along the inside of the bowl, he doesn't lick the batter off again. he swipes his fingers along her cheek — and shrugs his shoulders in mock innocence as he repeats the action inside the bowl with the intention to lick it off. ]
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Oh my god - [She reaches inside the bowl, swipe fingers along the edge to catch some batter, and smears it down in a line from his forehead to his chin.] Your face is weird.
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[ so he swipes his fingers and thumb inside the bowl and then takes a step forward, focused on cradling her cheek with his clean hand as he smears batter on her face and above her brow to her forehead like he's some sort of painter. smudging it, he keeps his focus on his fingers, tongue between his teeth for a moment. ] You look better now. Very Zero-G like.
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Does she care that she's dirty? Not really.] You're the worst - [she laughs out, and opens one eye cautiously, then the other.] Here, join the club. [She grabs onto his shoulders, gets up on her toes, and rubs her smudged cheek against his with a delighted laugh.] Revenge.
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