Got a Delta request in my Inbox, but I've never involved myself with this guy before, so I ran a practice fic through. Hey @snowberai LOL here's a bonus Delta.
"Kitchen Help"
'You told Delta he'd get a kiss per thing he does for you, and... Yeah, it got competitive fast.'
Word Count: 1,100
Pairing: Delta x Reader
The air's heavy with the somewhat unpleasant smell of the oven finishing up its preheat.
You don't know what exactly causes that smell, but you're not a fan. It's nauseating enough for you to whine about it in your head.
It'll be replaced with the goodness of fresh-baked and homemade chocolate chip cookies soon enough, which is the only reason you haven't employed your help to open the kitchen window for you.
By 'employed', he's being paid in kisses.
One per thing he does for you.
And by golly, you're running low on stuff to actually do yourself, because he keeps getting to everything before you get the chance.
This 'baking cookies date' thing has pretty much become you sitting pretty while he does it all.
He's gone as far and cocky as to suggest grabbing lipstick for the next time…
Whatever, dude.
You were able to rinse a spoon, though. You're feeling like a winner. Very independent, yes yes.
There'd probably be more you could manage helping with if he didn't take your recipe sheet hostage.
Competitive ass…
You're brought out of your fake and exaggerated complaints when Delta clears his throat from just behind you.
You roll your eyes, turn around to face him, and then roll your eyes a second time so that he'll see.
He ignores your sass with his own, obnoxiously pointing to his cheek with one (ungloved) hand, the other on his hip, and slightly bent down for your easy reachings.
"right here." Showing you where he wants to be kissed. On his cheekbone, this time around.
Oh my actual stars. He's awful. Insufferable.
You yank on the collar of his sleeveless top, tug him a stumbling step to you (which he could've stopped, but he allows), and you smack an annoyed peck to his cheek. Hurting your lips in the process of trying to out-sass him, but the pinch of pain felt worth it.
You're not able to shove him back and away from you, though.
He stands steady, like he's suddenly activated 'Brick Wall Mode', and he very quickly furthers this mild intimidation into a strong one when he invades your space. Stepping within a breath from you, and very tenderly placing his hands on your sides. "i also have been very good. an extremely good boy. do i get somethin' for that, or..?"
"No."
He audibly whines in a pitch only dogs could hear, and drops his head in a dramatic sulk. Pouting.
You found something to do.
Clean up!
Delta's in the middle of stirring up the sizable bowl of mix—his hands full and busy. Giving you the most perfect opportunity to tidy up the kitchen tops from all the dishes and trash and miscellaneous mess you two've made.
Though, even with his back turned and the stainless steel spoon on stainless steel bowl making ruckus, he still hears you pick up a wrapper.
But he can't stop you, or else the dough will clump and become difficult. "hey!"
"Yes?" You very loudly swing open the trashcan and throw two emptied cookie mix boxes in there, slamming the lid back down.
He immediately starts to stir faster, "that's not fair!!"
You snooze, you lose.
And despite not being tall enough to safely accomplish this next one… You've got a statement to make.
The cupboard where the baking soda, cane sugar, and other room-temp ingredients belong is out of your reach—but not if you climb up there.
You hike a knee high onto the counter, and with hands braced and a few preemptive hops to ready yourself, you successfully scamper up, sitting tall on both knees.
Couldn't keep your mouth shut, though, on this small adrenaline high, "L, bozo."
That comment makes him pause, and unfortunately look over his shoulder. "wuh—who taught you to say that—oh my god, what are you doing?"
Honestly, you weren't expecting to be caught so fast. "Uh."
You—carefully, because there's not much room to turn on a whim—manage to shift your body to get a view on him.
He's already abandoned his mix and has crossed the kitchen. Delta is right there and in the very process of grabbing you.
"No, wait!—" In your modest freakout, you try to dodge him the only way you can go. Up.
Jumping from your knees to your feet on the counter with so much more grace and agility than you were expecting from yourself, you're now too far up for him to nab you by the waist, or anywhere else.
Holding on for dear life at the very top of the haven't-been-dusted-in-years cupboards.
Your voice is firm yet still somehow full of nerves. The giddy, adrenaline-high kind that comes with running away from someone stronger than you. "Do NOT."
Delta just silently tilts his head to the side as his neck is craned all the way up at you. To top off the playful intimidation, he gives you about the cockiest look ever, as well as a lopsided grin. "yeah, okay."
Well, that implication is just about the most awful thing ever. What does he mean by 'yeah, okay'?
He meant that it doesn't matter that you're out of reach—because apparently you're not.
The crooks of your knees are seized in two strong and unyielding arms. You reflexively buckle in your sheer panic, and he takes the real estate of your thighs to grab instead.
Safe to say you're freaking out. "No—what? Why? Why?"
With what looks like literally no effort, you're lifted clean off the counter with a powerful and steady clasp around your thighs, and held in the air right against him. Your head high above his, and your straightened knees level with his chest.
You latch your hands onto his shoulders on balancing reflex, despite knowing he'd never drop you.
Delta's gaze is so soft and content and giddy. Like getting to hold you up like this has officially become the absolute highlight of this date for him.
Rolling your eyes, knowing he's looking, you huff. "I do hope you know that you're fired, by the way."
He gives you a little squeeze, tilting his head to lean against one of the arms you have on his shoulders. Looking very pleased with himself. "i don't suppose i could.. do ya a little favor? t'get my job back?"
…And he makes cutesy kissing sounds.
You immediately start to squirm around in protest, which sends him into a little giggling fit.
Delta gives you a small bounce, a kiss to your forearm, and then carries you off. The cookies forgotten.
