Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Disasters •|| MARJOREECE ||•

Prompt: Reece tries to teach Marjorie how to cook. You can already tell how this is going to go.

The aroma of burnt toast and something vaguely metallic lingered in the kitchen as Marjorie stood at the stove, glaring at the frying pan like it had personally offended her. Reece leaned against the counter, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“I told you to let the oil heat first,” he said, watching the scrambled eggs slowly morph into something unrecognizable.

“I did let it heat,” Marjorie shot back, waving the spatula for emphasis. “It just… heated too much, okay?”

Reece raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize ‘incinerated’ was a temperature setting.”

Marjorie rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to be teaching me, not criticizing me. Where’s the encouragement? The pep talk?”

Reece sighed dramatically and pushed himself off the counter. “Fine. You’re doing great, gorgeous. That’s the best attempt at carbon I’ve ever seen.”

Marjorie swatted at him with the spatula, narrowly missing his shoulder. “If I weren’t terrible at cooking, I’d throw something at you.”

He grinned. “You mean you’d try to throw something. It’d probably hit the ceiling.”

Marjorie groaned, tossing the spatula into the sink with a clatter. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I’m not cut out for the kitchen.”

“Because,” Reece said, stepping in to rescue the poor frying pan, “you said you wanted to learn. And as much as I enjoy the sight of you burning water—”

“That happened one time!”

“—it’s time to level up those skills.” He dumped the remains of the eggs into the trash, giving her a pointed look. “We’re starting over. Crack two eggs into this bowl. Gently.”

Marjorie stared at him, her expression skeptical. “I don’t like your tone. You’re treating me like I’ve never cracked an egg before.”

“Have you?”

She grabbed an egg with a huff, giving it a firm whack against the edge of the bowl. The shell shattered spectacularly, pieces falling into the bowl alongside the yolk.

Reece winced. “Okay, that’s progress. Now, next time, maybe… less force. The egg’s not your mortal enemy.”

Marjorie glared at him but grabbed another egg. This time, she managed to crack it cleanly, and her triumphant grin was so bright Reece almost felt bad for teasing her earlier.

Almost.

“Look at you, cracking eggs like a pro,” he said, clapping slowly. “We’ll make a chef out of you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she muttered, reaching for a whisk. She started beating the eggs with the enthusiasm of someone trying to punish them for existing.

“Okay, slow down there, Gordon Ramsay,” Reece said, laughing. “It’s not a race. Just whisk until it’s smooth.”

Marjorie narrowed her eyes but adjusted her technique. A moment later, she held up the bowl triumphantly. “Done!”

Reece inspected the mixture. “Not bad. Now, let’s try cooking it without setting off the smoke alarm this time.”

“Oh, ha ha,” she said, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

Over the next half hour, Reece guided her through the steps of making scrambled eggs—heat the pan, add the oil, pour in the eggs, stir gently. He corrected her when she reached for a metal spoon to use in the nonstick pan and showed her how to tell when the eggs were done.

By the time she plated the finished dish, Marjorie looked both exhausted and exhilarated.

“Well?” she asked, watching nervously as Reece took a bite.

He chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Not bad. It’s actually edible.”

“High praise from the master chef,” she said, smirking.

“Hey, I’m just saying, there’s hope for you yet.”

Marjorie couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t get used to this. Next time, I’m sticking to takeout.”

Reece grinned, handing her a fork. “Not on my watch. Now, eat up. You earned it, gorgeous.”

And for the first time that evening, Marjorie felt a small sense of pride as she dug into the meal she’d made herself—even if it was just scrambled eggs.

[A/N: This is ALSO based on a true story. It was... Interesting to say the least.]