Cookies - Caboose x Reader
I love Caboose, 'nuff said.
WC: 889 SUMMARY: Baking is always fun, even more so when you're accompanied by your loving helper.
Searching the base, you find him speaking passionately to Church, of who is stood with his shoulders tense and a grimace twisting his face. Intervening quickly, you grab hold of Cabooses hand, offering a smile to your leader; of who returns a grateful wave; tugging your boyfriend towards the kitchen that you have previously prepared. “Okay, bye Church!” calls Caboose, stumbling behind you. “Where are we going?” he asks, pulling up and walking beside you, swinging your hands back and forth. “I have something for you” you reply teasingly, and he gasps happily. “Is it a puppy?” “Better than a puppy” you promise, tracing the top of his hand with your thumb. His eyes light up as you speak, the bright blue sparkling like clear ocean waters.“Bunk beds?” he suggests, but you shake your head, and he pouts, deep in thought. “Is it... you?” he asks with a grin, and you laugh, bumping into him affectionately. “You already have me, and I’m not as good as a puppy.” “You’re right, you’re better.”
Pulling into the kitchen, you watch as he bounces in delight, excited. “Oh my goodness, Y/N, this is the best thing ever!” tugging you into a bone crushing hug. You laugh, feeling the strain in your limbs as he spins with you, burying his face into the side of your neck, before quickly planting a kiss on your lips. Letting you down, you stumble unsteadily, letting him support you as you regain your balance. Moving around him, he watches you make your way to stand ready at the counter, ingredients littering the top. Leaning against it, you raise an eyebrow at him, motioning with a hand. “Well, are we making cookies, or not?”
You trace your index finger down the page of the cook book, swaying gently as Caboose wraps his arms around your middle, peering over your shoulder, littering your neck and cheek with light and delicate kisses. “Say’s here that we need two eggs...” you tilt your head up, kissing the corner of his mouth as he glances around for the egg carton. Finding it, he doesn’t let you go, rather lifting you in his arms gently, carrying you and placing you in front of him, returning to his hugging. You giggle, despite yourself, the happiness Caboose can experience just from the simplest of things making you feel child like again.
Cracking the eggs into the bowl, you motion to the book, asking him what the next step is, after the addition of vanilla essence. “Err...” he quickly scans the page, looking slightly disappointed. “it says ‘then add a pinch of love and kisses... to your cookie buddy.” You beam as you laugh, your cheeks burning. “Oh does it now?” you question, but he nods, certain of himself. “Yes, yes it does. There’s no need to check, it definitely says kisses and love.” You reach up on your tiptoes, running your fingers though his hair as he smiles warmly at you, his eyes soft and intent to your own.
“I was always taught to follow a recipe” you joke, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his, feeling him smile. Pulling him against you gently, you relax into his embrace, feeling no rush or obligation; just Caboose and you. “Y/N” he whispers to you, pressing his lips to your forehead as your eyes remain closed, and his hand against your cheek. “The cookies” he prompts and you let out a laugh, detaching yourself regretfully, turning back to the mix, now fully complete. “Just gotta shape them, and they’ll be good to cook and decorate”
“Mine’s not working” pouts Caboose, wrestling with his piping bag. Rolling your eyes, you take his hands, tilting them to a more appropriate angle, squeezing to allow a small amount of pressure. “Here” you say, directing him, piping a small amount of pink icing onto a cookie, forming a peak. “See?” he nods, looking pleased with him, returning happily to his decorating. Moving back to your own, you study it, unsure as to whether or not it would be worth it to create a pattern; seeing as you know they will not last long. At some point during your artistic thought, you notice Caboose watching you, and you smile up at him.
“Are you having trouble?” he asks, curious, and you sheepishly nod, glancing at the spirals that now adorn his cookies. “Can I help?” he offers, mirroring your stance when you had directed him, his hands covering yours as he stands close behind you. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he squeezes, moving your hands; pink spilling through the nozzle. As you watch, you feel your cheeks heat as a heart forms before taking the bag from him, tossing I onto the bench and pulling him into your arms; kissing him.