The kitchen is a disaster.

There’s flour on the counter, a suspicious amount of sauce splattered near the sink, and a cutting board half-abandoned with vegetables that were definitely supposed to be chopped by now.

Annie stands near the stove, glaring at the pan in front of her as if sheer force of will can undo whatever questionable decision she just made. Mikasa, meanwhile, is across the kitchen, holding Momo under one arm like a football while reaching for the roll of paper towels with her free hand. The cat had attempted a very ill-advised counter jump and nearly sent a bowl of seasoning flying.

“This was your idea,” Mikasa reminds, setting Momo down and pulling off a paper towel strip to clean up some of the mess.

Annie scoffs, poking at the pan. “It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.”

Mikasa peeks over her shoulder, surveying the damage. “What did you even do?”

Annie clicks her tongue. “Followed the recipe.” A beat of silence. “Mostly.”

Mikasa stares at her. “Annie.”

Annie sighs, rubbing a hand down her face. “Okay, maybe I thought I remembered it from last time and didn’t actually check.”

Mikasa presses her lips together, fighting a smile. “So you winged it.”

“I improvised.”

“Right.” Mikasa leans against the counter, arms crossed. “And how’s that going for you?”

Annie glares at the pan again, then reaches for a spoon to prod at whatever is cooking inside. The spoon does not give her good news.

Mikasa watches, amused, before stepping closer. “Move,” she says, bumping Annie aside with her hip. “Before you burn it.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“Uh-huh.” Mikasa grabs the pan handle, tilting it slightly. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Annie huffs, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so much better at this.”

Mikasa glances at her, smirking. “I am.”