(Warning! Domestic fluff (& lousy English) ahead. Please proceed with caution!)
☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆
Julie loves watching her boys cook.
Leaning against the doorframe, a mug of tea in her hands, she spends hours just watching them.
Watches her dad bustling around in the kitchen, eagerly tackling a new recipe. Knowing her dad's skill level, Julie should panic; should fear the outcome of his culinary experiments.
But she doesn't. She doesn't because of the ghost assisting him.
Initially, Julie didn't believe Luke when he boasted about his cooking skills. After all, he had died from rancid street dogs. This alone surely warrants an afterlifelong ban from the kitchen.
But Julie stood corrected.
And now, she cannot stop watching them. Watches Luke trailing behind her father, scrutinizing his every movement and correcting his mistakes when her father isn't watching (and thus preventing their house from busting into flames.)
And Julie loves to see Luke thriving in his task -- loves that he's buzzing with the same excitement and enthusiasm that runs through his non-existing body when he's making music.
And she loves to tease him about it -- just a bit -- and loves the playful banter that lasts until her still oblivious father misinterprets her words.
What she doesn't like at first is the sound of Luke's gleeful cackling that echoes through the kitchen when she has to explain herself. But she changes her mind when he comes to apologize, stealing a kiss from her when her father's back is turned on them.
And then her father starts humming some 80s song, and Luke joins in immediately, resuming his task to supervise his girlfriend's father, and Julie continues to watch her boys, a smile on her lips and her soul at peace.
☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆
Years pass by, and Julie still loves watching her boys cook.
Leaning against the very same doorframe, the very same mug in her hands, she still spends hours watching them.
Watches as her father listens intently to Luke's explanations. Watches as he carefully takes up his assigned task, following the instructions to a tee, receiving an approving nod.
Watches as her husband -- her very alive and breathing and still so enthusiastic husband made from flesh and blood and bone -- snakes his way around the kitchen counters until he is all she can see.
And now, he doesn't wait for her father to look away. He rests his forehead against hers, brushes his nose against hers, captures her lips with his, and they both lose themselves in a brief moment of perfect domestic bliss.
Until an angry tug on Julie's sleeve brings them both back to reality.
They both look down and are greeted by the grumpy face of their son, who's clearly unhappy that he isn't the center of his parents' attention.
And Julie can't help the laugh that bubbles up in her throat because when their little boy sulks, he's almost the spitting image of Luke. Luke then picks him up, and Julie gently kisses his forehead, which magically cures his pout, before sending them both off back to the kitchen to resume their cooking.
And when their little boy strikes up a new song -- a song that is about how much he loves cookies and loves baking them and loves baking them with his daddy and his abuelito while mommy is watching -- and the two men quickly join in, Julie's heart swells with pride and happiness.
And so Julie continues watching her boys, almost bursting with the love she feels for them.
