#devonhelena

"What's… happening here?" Devon asked as she approached the scene, cataloguing the chaos.

She had no idea how she'd slept through Helena getting up - probably due to a mix of Eleanor's sleep regression and Helena's own way of keeping her up late last night - but she must've been busy for at least an hour.

Six eggshells littered the counter, along with dotted mounds of flour, three different mixing bowls (Devon didn't even know where the grey one had come from), the skins of two avocados, two pieces of anemic toast on a plate each and what she assumed was most of the silverware she owned.

Helena turned, a smattering of flour dusting her maroon turtleneck. (Devon tried not to feel upset that she'd already gotten fully dressed.) Her expression was that of someone well and truly out of their depth as she brushed her hands on her dark trousers.

"My… first thought was pancakes." Helena said, as if that was a typical way to start a conversation. Her voice had none of the confidence that it was usually laced with, and instead sounded slightly raspy due to the early hour. Devon ignored how the change made her stomach flip.

"Right," Devon replied, getting close enough to Eleanor to wiggle her fingers against her daughter's soles, the girl in question giggling at the feeling.

"But they didn't come out as I expected, so I instead settled on avocado toast." Helena continued as she watched the mother and daughter play.

"Ah," Devon drew out the sound, "Like a true millennial."

Helena's eyebrows furrowed at that, and Devon tried not to think about how she wanted to smooth out the crease between them with her thumb.

She shook her head, a few curly tendrils falling out of her bun, "Never mind. Stupid joke. So the toast didn't go well?"

Helena glared at her, though there was no malice at all behind it, "I can make toast."

Devon suspected that there was evidence saying otherwise already hidden in the bin considering the burnt smell lingering in the house, but didn't have a chance to say so as Helena kept explaining.

"I wanted to do poached eggs for the top-"

"For me?" It was low hanging fruit but Devon couldn't help but grasp it.

Helena barreled on through like she hadn't heard the intrusion, "But they didn't work. So I then tried fried, but I broke one of the yolks, so now it's scrambled."

Devon hoped that she didn't look as amused as she did at the idea of the next CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world fucking up the concept of cooked eggs so badly.

Helena frowned, gesturing to the pink plate in front of Eleanor, "Her food's easier."

Eleanor's hand grasped another handful of smashed avocado and happily stuffed it into her mouth.

Devon never expected Helena to be so affectionate with a child. She'd originally arranged for her only to come over on days where Ricken was meant to have her.

She'd almost cancelled on her the first time that the plans fell through hours prior - Ricken stating that he just had to go to a conference to advertise his new book, the one promoting the severance procedure, as if it hadn't fucked up his brother-in-law's entire life - but she was glad she didn't as soon as she saw how Helena's eyes lit up at the sight of the toddler in her arms when she answered the door. Sure, them sitting together on the sofa and watching a disney movie with a toddler between them was not how Devon thought most friends with benefits spent their evenings, but she'd definitely enjoyed it. Especially when she'd caught Helena mouthing along to the lyrics.

The next time she came over, Helena offered the tiny plushie of Eleanor's favourite animal from the film in her hands like it was the most casual thing in the world, almost seeming disheartened when Devon told her that she was at her dad's. Devon had taken it from her hands and placed it gingerly on the table before ferociously capturing Helena's lips with her own, determined to say thank you and make her feel better all at once.

"I mean her diet mostly comes from my tits, so the bar is low," Devon said, relishing in how Helena's cheeks began to flush as she had predicted, even though she had seen the tits in question countless times by now. Flustering the posh, rich girl was exactly how she'd got into this situation, and it still remained one of her favourite pastimes.

"I- yes." Helena said, looking down at the floor, her bare feet stark against it, "I just know that you're up early most mornings, so I wanted to help you."

Devon took a few steps closer to her, hearing her intake of breath when she was only centimetres away. It was too difficult to be sincere, to earnestly say thank you, to say that she'd been more considerate as her… whatever they were than her husband had been for years.

"And you forgot that you didn't know how to cook?" Devon teased. Teasing was always easier.

Helena looked up at her, then looked away again, "I… don't know how to justify why I don't know how to cook without you making fun of me."

Devon hummed, pretending to be deep in thought, "You grew up with servants cooking everything you ever wanted for you in your mansion so you never had to learn?"

There was a time where a joke like that would've stung, but now Helena can just purse her lips, glaring playfully until Devon backs down. She never does.

"Yes, that's the general gist of it." She replied, turning back to the stove to prove that she was trying to change, just like many other aspects of her life. It was a common topic they'd talk about as they both lay together in bed (always in Devon's, never in Helena's), how Helena could change the parts of her she didn't like without having to change everything.

Devon moved with her, slinging her bare arms around Helena's waist, raising up slightly to rest her head on her shoulder.

"I can teach you." She said quietly into the shell of her ear, delighted at the shiver it produced, "I had to teach Mark."

She couldn't see Helena's face but she knew it was one of displeasure, "Please don't compare me to your brother." They often avoided the topic of Mark, neither of them knowing where to begin. It worked for them both. For now.

"Fair," Devon acquiesed, "It'll be better with you. Because I can do this." She pressed a feather light kiss on the back of her neck, the skin bare due to her hair being up.

As if she had flicked a secret switch, Helena instantly turned in her arms, wrapping them around Devon's neck and kissing her softly.

It's the first time in a while that Devon has burned food.

She doesn't care.

~~~~~