how about baking or cooking something goes wrong
COOKERFLAGG (wait, that was a good one. right?)
[requested] content — baking / cooking, humorous sexual innuendos, non vulgar so; sfw, kinda cute lol ->
It was his off day, he had just came home from practice.
Cooper had been in one of those weirdly excited moods all morning, following you around the kitchen like he was some 6’9 big ass golden retriever pretending he did not want your attention.
Great early bird practice, huh? Clearly didn’t do much if he had this much energy at this hour.
You on the other hand had woken up in the worst mood, you had morning sickness and the most intense headache imaginable.
Cooper was doing random shit that rattled your brain to top it off. He was opening the fridge for no reason. Hovering behind you every time you reached for anything. Doing that little half smile whenever you caught him staring meanwhile you were glaring absolute knives into his eyes.
You weren’t the angry type when you were sick usually, but today? You wanted to be grumpy and most definitely alone or at least away from any human interaction that was lively.
He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame, rested his chin on your head, and said like it was nothing,
“Hey so, sick girl, we should bake something. Might lighten up your mood since you look like you want to murder me.”
You turned around, blinking slowly to the beat of the words rolling of your own tongue.
“Hey so, dumb ass. Why. We? You can’t bake, for shit.”
He shrugged.
“I said why. And yeah I know I can’t, but you can, I like watching you try to boss me around.”
“Try?” you said, raising your eyebrow. You knew you ran the house, he just paid the price of it.
“Well,” he said , genuinely putting thought into it. “I guess you do boss me around, only outside the bedroom though.” He laughed, you didn’t. So funny! At least he thought so.
“Cooper?,”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
So you pulled ingredients out.
He acted like he knew what he was doing. He did not. He never did, now Cooper was smart but the only skill based thing he was good at handling balls.
Pause, basketballs.
You gave him one job. One. Mix the dry ingredients together. That was it. That was the whole assignment. You even pointed at the bowls, slow and clear, like you were teaching a preschooler.
You turned around for two seconds.
Two. One, two.
And suddenly there was flour everywhere.
“Cooper. What the fuck did you do.” That was barely a question and your voice went flatter than it already was.
He froze like a kid caught stealing and just about lifted his arm to scratch the nape of his neck.
“I swear I was just mixing, and then it kind of exploded.”
“Flour does not just explode by itself, Cooper.”
“Oh, but it did today.”
You stared. He stared, cracking a smile at you. Unfortunately for him, not reciprocated.
“Great job. Making the easiest job, the hardest.” you said.
He grinned like he had just won gold or an Olympic medal.
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“Still taking it like one. I’m a champ.”
You picked up the whisk.
“Move.”
“No, what? It’s my work!”
“Cooper, move.”
He stepped closer rather than moving, bumping you with his elbow.
“You’re kinda cute when you try to be mean.”
Once again, “Try?,” You were not trying.
“I am actually fucking furious.”
“You are actually fucking adorable.”
You sighed loud and dramatic, so he would know the pain you were in when dealing with him. He only smiled harder and rubbed your shoulders.
You restarted for him on the dry ingredients.
You mixed. He watched over like a hawk. He dipped his fingers into the wet batter of raw egg, vanilla extract, milk and room temperature butter when he thought you weren’t looking. You smacked his hand away. He did it again anyway.
Then the bowl slipped and it fell.
It hit the counter and flipped over. In your mind it was in slow motion like an Oscar award winning film.
The batter everywhere, yay! Counter. Floor. You. Him.
He blinked and whispered,
“Holy shit.”
You looked at your brand new shirt. Must have discovered a never seen before colour on it.
“Cooper. Westley. Flagg.”
“In my defense,” he said, hands up like he was surrendering, “I did nothing.”
“You did everything,” you said, heat creeping up your face.
He laughed. Hard. Holding his stomach. Leaning on the counter.
You were supposed to be mad. But he was laughing so hard you could not even stay mad, and now you were both covered in sticky mess.
You shoved him. “Hey, stop laughing.”
He wiped his face, tried to calm down, failed instantly.
“You look like dessert.”
“I look like a victim.”
“You look really pretty, for a victim.”
You rolled your eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and burning and you hated him for it.
He stepped even closer. Hands on your waist, warm, still covered in batter.
“Come here,” he murmured before kissing you.
“I am literally sticky.”
“Good,” he said, smiling down at you, “I do usually make you feel that way anyway.”
“Cooper, that is gross.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling down at you, “but I guess you really are stuck with me now.” No kids and already starting with the dad jokes.
He kissed your forehead, your nose, the corner of your mouth like he was pretending he was not the softest person alive.
You sighed into his chest.
“We did not bake a single thing.”
“We made a memory?,” he said.
Then he lifted you onto the messy counter, stood between your legs.
“So. Round two?”
“Of baking,” you clarified.
He paused, squinted. Smiled slow.
“Sure. Baking.”
i have been working on editing this draft for the past hour so enjoy and dont kill me for not posting fics bc it’s kinda good maybe idk ahh maybe its bad idk just enjoy 🙌🏽
