A Collection of Glee Oneshots 5

Cooking Class (Brittana)

"Santana, what are we doing here?" Brittany whispered, looking at the ingredients spread out in front of her.

Santana smiled, already setting up her station. "We're cooking, Britt. You know, the thing people do when they're not just stuffing their faces with cupcakes."

"My cupcakes are perfect." Brittany noted, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Everybody loves them."

"I know, but you can't live on just sugar and flour forever." Santana stated, picking up a knife. "This is gonna be good for you. You're gonna learn something today."

"I can learn." Brittany said, staring at the raw chicken breasts in front of her. "But I don't need to. You're really good at cooking."

Santana looked at her girlfriend. "I wanna make sure you can make yourself food if I'm working. Plus, cooking together could be fun. And sexy."

Brittany smirked. "Then I'm in."

The cooking instructor clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, everybody! Today we're making a classic Italian meal: Chicken Parmesan with a side of spaghetti. A staple in any kitchen. Let's get started!"

"What are we making?" Brittany wondered.

"You're gonna be fine." Santana promised. "Just follow the instructions."

Brittany, who had already accidentally knocked over the jar of garlic while trying to open it, made bit her lip. "This is not fun, Santana."

"Brittany, you've baked an entire cake from scratch." Santana reminded her. "You can do this."

Brittany nodded slowly, processing the statement. "Cake is different. What if the chicken doesn't wanna be cooked? What if it has feelings?"

Santana took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure as she smiled at Brittany. "The chicken wants to be eaten, believe me. Just put it in the breadcrumbs. It's fine."

Brittany picked up a chicken breast, examining it before looking around the room and copying the others.

Santana turned her attention back to her own station, expertly dredging the chicken through breadcrumbs, flour, and egg. She was about to place it in the sizzling pan when she heard Brittany's voice, a little too loud.

"Do you think chickens like cake? 'Cause what if I bake it a cake and then as a thank you, it lets me eat it?"

"Britt." Santana shook her head.

The cooking instructor came around to check on them. She stopped at Santana's station first, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the perfectly breaded chicken ready to be fried. "Something tells me you're not a beginner."

"Thanks." Santana grinned. "I've had some cooking practice with my mom and abuela."

"She's a professional." Brittany added, and the instructor came to her station.

"Uh... what's going on here?"

"I'm just trying to talk to the chicken," Brittany said. "To make sure it's ready to be cooked and eaten."

The instructor blinked, unsure how to respond, but after a second, she simply nodded. "Alright, why don't you help the chicken get dressed? It's really important that it's coated in breadcrumbs so it'll be cozy."

"You're right!" Brittany exclaimed with a determined nod. "Let's get you dressed, little chicken."

As Santana went to flip her chicken in the pan, she heard a small, yet triumphant squeal from Brittany's direction.

Santana turned around to see Brittany doing exactly what she was supposed to.

"Way to go, babe!" Santana cheered. "I told you you could do it."

Brittany's eyes lit up, and she placed the chicken carefully into the frying pan, carefully watching as it sizzled. "Do you think it likes this?"

"Yeah, it's just hanging out in a hot tub." Santana nodded.

"When you put it like that, it's fun." Brittany stated. "And easy."

"See?" Santana smiled, and the girls continued working through the class.

Santana easily mastered the chicken parm, her hands moving like second nature, while Brittany, although a little scattered, was genuinely proud of her new skills in the kitchen.

As the class neared its end and they plated their meals, Brittany looked at the chicken parmesan she'd made with a sense of awe. "This isn't so bad. It's edible, right? And I made it myself."

"Yes you did." Santana nodded, looking at the two plates side-by-side. "You're not only a baker now. You're also a chef."

"I'm better with the sweet stuff." Brittany replied. "I'm starving. Let's go home and make some dessert."

Santana laughed, wrapping her arm around Brittany. "Eat your dinner first."

"And then dessert?"

"And then dessert."