Madness: DxD

Incident: Kitchen Chaos

The scent of damp copper and smoke usually clung to Y/N like a second skin, but today, standing in the middle of my pristine, white-marbled kitchen, he smelled strictly of gun oil and mild apathy.

I smoothed down the front of my apron, taking a deep breath to steady the faint, ridiculous flutter in my chest. He was a terrifying force of nature, yes, but right now he was my pupil. Looking at him standing behind the kitchen island, I couldn't help the warm swell of maternal, protective affection in my heart. Or perhaps... something a bit deeper that I dared not name aloud.

I gently pushed a crate of fresh produce toward him.

Venelana: Y/N, dear, you cannot survive indefinitely on sodium-laden rations and grease-soaked fast food. It is appalling for your system. A man of your stature needs actual nourishment.

Y/N: I get plenty of exercise slitting throats and dodging heavy ordnance. My metabolism is mutated, my internal functions are boosted, and I quit smoking decades ago. I'm in top condition.

Venelana: Physical endurance does not excuse a neglected stomach. A proper diet is essential.

Y/N: I'm not here to argue about my arteries, Venelana. I'm here because learning to prepare raw ingredients into something non-lethal is a practical survival skill. If supply lines drop, knowing how to butcher and season is useful. Now, what are we doing first?

Venelana: (Smiling warmly, placing a hand over my heart) A three-course meal! We shall start with a classic Caesar salad, move to a delicate shrimp entrée, and finish with a homemade cheesecake. I recall you mentioning a fondness for cheesecake.

Y/N: It's acceptable. Lead the way.

I opened my mouth to explain the delicate art of washing Romaine lettuce, but before I could utter a single syllable, the air behind us tore open with a sharp, crackling burst of crimson flames. Heat washed over my back, scorching the smell of fresh herbs right out of the room.

I closed my eyes, counting to three. I didn't even need to turn around to know who had just ruined my peaceful afternoon.

Y/N: You're burning the curtains, Phoenix.

Phoenix: Y/N! You left the manor without telling me!

Y/N: That's misinformation. I said I was heading out.

Phoenix: You said you were heading out! You didn't say you were coming here! To her!

Y/N: How did you even figure out I was at the Gremory estate?

Phoenix: Call it a woman's intuition!

Venelana: It seems your "intuition" is as loud and uninvited as your entrance, Phoenix. This is a private lesson. Y/N asked for my expertise, not a fiery tempest disrupting my kitchen.

Phoenix: Expertise? You're just trying to corner him! Y/N belongs at my side, and if anyone is going to teach him culinary arts, it's me!

Venelana: You? You can barely roast a turkey without incinerating the whole estate. I am a master of hostmanship and fine dining. Step back and let a true lady handle this.

Phoenix: I'd rather burn the house down than leave him alone with you!

We were practically nose-to-nose, sparks flying from Phoenix's shoulders while my own Power of Destruction hummed faintly at my fingertips. The air grew thick, suffocating, until a heavy, metallic thud echoed off the marble counter.

Y/N had slammed a massive chef's knife down into the wooden cutting board, embedding it three inches deep.

Y/N: Be quiet. Both of you.