One batch later - Ricky (AND2BLE)
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Warnings:
suggestive tension • heavy flirting • physical closeness • playful teasing • kissing tension • domestic fluff • baking/food mentions • cuddling • sleepy affection • cheesy boyfriend behavior
Word count: ~948 words
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The first thing Ricky did on his day off was sleep until noon.
The second thing he did was walk into the kitchen with his hair sticking up everywhere and say,
“I want cookies.”
You looked up from your phone. “That’s the first thing you say to me today?”
“Yes.”
“Not good morning?”
“Cookies are more urgent. I had a dream of cookies, I'm craving 'em like a pregnant lady.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Ricky ignored you completely and opened random cabinets like he’d lived there his entire life instead of spending twenty minutes yesterday asking where the spoons were.
“Do we even have flour?”
“We do if you stop touching everything dramatically.”
“I’m helping.”
“You just opened the fridge and closed it again.”
“I was checking the vibe.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
Then both of you started laughing.
The apartment felt weirdly peaceful today. Quiet in a nice way. No alarms going off. No staff messages popping up every five seconds. Just cold winter light spilling through the windows and Ricky wandering around in socks like a sleepy cat.
Eventually, you tied his hoodie strings together after he annoyed you for the sixth time.
“Hey—”
“That’s what you get.” You smile at him
“You’re evil.”
“You love me.”
Ricky paused.
Then he smiled slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
The answer came so naturally that it caught you off guard for half a second.
He noticed immediately too.
You could tell by the way his ears turned a little pink before he looked away and reached for the mixing bowl.
“Okay,” he muttered. “Chef mode now.”
“Chef mode?”
“Yes. Don’t distract me.”
“You literally cannot bake.”
“That sounds negative.”
“It sounds accurate.”
The next thirty minutes turned into complete disaster.
Ricky cracked an egg one-handed and got shell into the batter. You laughed at him so hard you accidentally spilled sugar everywhere. He tried fixing it and somehow made it worse.
At one point, flour exploded across the counter because he mixed too aggressively.
“You look insane,” you said through laughter.
“You’re supposed to support me.”
“I’m trying but this is embarrassing.”
“You’re embarrassing.”
“You have dough in your hair.”
He immediately reached up. “Where?”
“There.”
When he leaned closer, you brushed your fingers through the soft strands near his forehead to pull the tiny piece out.
Ricky went still and looked straight into your eyes
Not fully. Just enough that you noticed.
Your hand slowed too.
For one tiny second, the kitchen suddenly felt quieter than before.
His eyes stayed on yours.
Close.
Way too close.
Then—
“You got distracted,” you mumbled.
“You touched my hair.”
“So?”
“You know I like that.”
His voice came out softer this time.
You swallowed.
“Ricky—”
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring.”
“I know.”
He didn’t stop either.
That was the problem.
The tension started small after that.
Little things.
His hand resting on your lower back while you reached into the cabinet.
Your knees touching under the table while waiting for the cookies to bake.
The way he kept looking at you like he had something to say but never actually said it.
And Ricky was naturally clingy on normal days already.
Today was worse.
At some point while cleaning up, he walked behind you in the narrow kitchen and stayed there instead of moving away.
“You’re blocking me,” you said.
“You smell nice.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t care.”
You tried stepping sideways.
His hands landed on the counter beside you immediately.
Your breath caught a little.
Ricky leaned forward just enough that his chin almost brushed your shoulder.
“You know,” he said quietly, “this is the longest I’ve gotten to spend with you in weeks.”
You looked at him over your shoulder. “You’re acting like we’re in a romance movie.”
“We are.”
“You’re so cheesy.”
“And you like it.”
Unfortunately, he was right.
The oven hummed softly behind you both.
Neither of you moved.
Ricky’s eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest second before lifting again.
Your heart started acting stupid instantly.
“Say something,” he murmured.
“You first.”
He smiled a little at that.
Then he leaned closer.
Slow enough to make you fully aware of it.
One hand slid lightly against your waist, pulling you back just slightly until your shoulder pressed against his chest. Just as his lips touched your neck—
DING.
The oven timer went off.
Ricky blinked once.
Then he dropped his head dramatically against your shoulder.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
You burst out laughing immediately.
“No because actually,” he complained, still holding your waist, “that was the worst timing ever.”
“The cookies saved us.”
“I didn’t ask to be saved.”
“You’re insane.”
He sighed deeply like life had personally betrayed him before finally letting go to grab the oven mitts.
The cookies came out slightly uneven because both of you forgot about the second tray entirely.
Still, Ricky proudly called them “masterpieces.”
An hour later, the kitchen was messy again.
Cookie crumbs everywhere.
One half-finished movie playing on the TV.
And Ricky stretched across the couch beside you under a blanket, warm from the heater and smelling faintly like vanilla.
“You know,” he mumbled sleepily, “I think baking together healed me emotionally.”
“You dropped an entire egg earlier.”
“That was part of the experience.”
You laughed quietly.
Ricky turned his head toward you then, eyes softer now than before.
Without saying anything, he reached over and laced his fingers through yours beneath the blanket.
Simple.
Easy.
The movie kept playing while snow fell outside.
At some point, Ricky fell asleep halfway against your shoulder, still holding your hand loosely like he forgot to let go.
And honestly?
You didn’t want him to.
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THE END~~
Requests are open!! I’m like a ChatGPT. It feels difficult to work without a prompt. Feel free to gimme your suggestions.
Peace out!!
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