"Would you like a hand?" Coulson asked as he followed her into the apartment. It had been just the instance he'd been waiting for, really, and if anything, cooking was probably the ideal. If there was anywhere that he probably belonged in a house, it was the kitchen. "I promise, I'm a decent cook so I won't ruin anything."
Not without a really intense disaster, at least. Which did happen sometimes, but he wasn't going to let it this time.
"And it'll probably be less awkward than me just sitting or standing around waiting."