The smell of something burning was the first thing Wanda noticed as she made her way to the kitchen. It was faint, but unmistakable, accompanied by a cloud of smoke and the clanging of pots and pans. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her.
Natasha Romanoff—cool, composed, always-in-control Natasha—was in the midst of a culinary disaster. Flour was dusted across the counters, an egg yolk had splattered down the cabinet, and a trail of batter dripped along the floor. Natasha herself stood at the stove, her hair falling loose, and a look of utter frustration on her face as she wielded a spatula like it was a weapon. A scorched, misshapen pancake sat in the pan, releasing smoke that Natasha swatted at with a towel.
“Natasha?” Wanda called gently, trying not to laugh.
Natasha spun around, eyes wide, like she’d been caught committing a crime. “Wanda! Uh… good morning!” She held the spatula in the air, gesturing toward the stove with it as if to explain. “I was, uh… trying to make you breakfast. But apparently, pancakes are more difficult than a mission in Budapest.”
Wanda bit back a laugh as she stepped into the kitchen, glancing at the burnt pancake in the pan and then at the mess around her. “I can see that. What happened?”
Natasha sighed, looking genuinely baffled. “I don’t know! I followed the recipe—mostly. I think. But then the batter kept getting stuck, and the stove was too hot, and… well, this happened.” She gestured at the mess with a helpless shrug.
“Why didn’t you just ask for help?” Wanda teased, moving closer and gently taking the spatula from Natasha’s hand. She examined it and couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Looks like you’ve been through a lot together.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Natasha said with a smirk, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “But… maybe I should’ve stuck to toast.”
“Well, I appreciate the effort,” Wanda said, smiling up at her. “But why don’t we try again, and this time, you’ll have a sous chef?”
Natasha shot her a skeptical look. “You’re not just going to do it for me, are you? I need to learn how to make something other than coffee.”
“Promise I’ll only help,” Wanda said, crossing her heart playfully. “Now, first things first, let’s clean up a bit.”
Together, they tackled the chaos of the kitchen, Natasha grumbling about how her “recipe experiment” had gone rogue. She was surprisingly thorough, wiping down the counters and floor with an intensity Wanda usually associated with battle tactics. Wanda, meanwhile, managed to fish a whole eggshell out of a bowl and wiped away the batter that had somehow landed on the fridge door.
Once the counters were cleared and the stove wiped down, Wanda set a clean bowl on the counter and handed Natasha a fresh egg. “Alright,” Wanda said, suppressing a grin. “Step one: crack the egg without it exploding.”
Natasha held the egg with extreme caution, tapping it softly on the side of the bowl. Too softly.
“A little harder,” Wanda coached gently. “You’re not going to break it that easily.”
Natasha gave it another go, cracking it a little harder this time. The egg split, and, almost miraculously, no shell fragments landed in the bowl.
“Hey, look at that!” Natasha said, pleased with herself. “Egg cracking: mastered.”
Wanda laughed, handing her a measuring cup. “Next, the flour. And this time, maybe a little less enthusiasm?”
Natasha chuckled, grabbing the bag of flour. “I’ll have you know, enthusiasm is my specialty.” She carefully measured out the flour, looking over at Wanda now and then as if for approval.
After a few more steps, including only a minor mishap with spilled milk, they finally had a bowl of batter that looked… like batter. Natasha stared at it like it was a rare and valuable prize.
“It looks like it’s supposed to, right?” she asked, glancing at Wanda.
“Looks perfect,” Wanda said with an encouraging smile. “Now, let’s get it in the pan. Just a small scoop at a time, okay?”
Natasha took a ladle, carefully pouring a small amount of batter into the pan. The pancake began to sizzle, and Natasha watched it with laser focus, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to solve a complex puzzle.
“Alright, see those little bubbles?” Wanda pointed, watching as Natasha nodded, her attention fully on the pan. “When there are enough, that means it’s time to flip.”
Natasha nodded seriously, her grip on the spatula tightening. As soon as the bubbles appeared, she took a deep breath and flipped the pancake, her face lighting up when it landed perfectly in the pan. “Ha! Look at that!” she said, grinning triumphantly. “First try.”
Wanda clapped her hands, beaming at her. “You did it!”
They went on to make a stack of pancakes, Wanda quietly amused by Natasha’s growing confidence. At one point, Natasha got bold and tried flipping a pancake a little too high, sending it sailing onto the stove hood. Wanda dissolved into laughter as Natasha gave her a sheepish grin, muttering about “overestimating” her flipping skills.
Finally, they had a tall stack of golden, slightly uneven but undeniably beautiful pancakes.
Natasha leaned back, looking a little too proud. “I think I’m officially a chef now.”
Wanda laughed, reaching up to wipe a bit of flour off Natasha’s cheek. “You’re definitely on your way,” she teased. She set a plate of pancakes down on the table, along with syrup and butter. “Let’s eat before you decide to set fire to something else.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was a warm fondness in her gaze as she took a seat across from Wanda. They each piled their plates high, and Natasha hesitated, glancing over as Wanda poured syrup over her pancakes.
“I wanted this to be nice for you, you know,” Natasha said quietly, her usual confidence softened. “I wanted to make you something that felt… special.”
Wanda reached across the table, taking Natasha’s hand in hers. “Natasha, it is special. I wouldn’t want anything else.”
Natasha looked down at their joined hands, a rare, shy smile tugging at her lips. “Even if it meant nearly burning down the kitchen?”
Wanda laughed, shaking her head. “Even then. But next time, we might skip the flour bombs.”
Natasha grinned, rolling her eyes. “Deal.”
They dug into their breakfast, sharing laughs over Natasha’s first “culinary adventure” and her tragic loss of a pancake to the ceiling. Wanda couldn’t stop smiling, and every now and then, she’d catch Natasha watching her with a softness in her eyes that made her heart skip.
As they finished up, Natasha leaned back, looking satisfied but thoughtful. “You know,” she said, her voice a little lower, “I’m glad you’re the one I’m learning this with.”
Wanda felt a warmth spread through her, squeezing Natasha’s hand once more. “Me too, Nat.”
After breakfast, they lingered in the kitchen, cleaning up and occasionally “accidentally” smudging flour on each other’s faces. Wanda watched as Natasha laughed, genuinely relaxed and happy, and she thought that maybe breakfast disasters weren’t so bad if it meant sharing moments like this.
And as Natasha pulled her in for a quick, warm kiss, Wanda couldn’t help but think that chaos with Natasha was something she’d never want to live without.