Work Text:
"This is hopeless!" Zuko shouted sweeping the contents of the table onto the floor.
Katara, attracted by the noise, remained quiet at the door choosing not to enter but observe the situation, eyes bright with unexpressed laughter.
"How the hell do people do this? Much less do it every day of their lives. Sweet Angi, who did they sell their soul to?"
He rummaged through the cupboards, grumpily producing a new mixing bowl and the appropriate tools.
In that moment not only did Katara learn that Zuko muttered to himself when angry but was a complete disaster in the kitchen.