smells like cinnamon
"fluffy as a cloud, delicious... cinnamon rolls, seriously?" jason scoffed, nose scrunching at the terrible word choice before he glanced up at you, studying how much the smirk you wore suited you and then focusing on the task at hand. "in this kind of weather, princess?"
you nodded, much too stubborn to back down. plus, you had given him a reliable recipe to follow, so that signified something, no?
from one point of view, he had a point. thermometers were reaching numbers that seemed impossible, almost alien to gotham until yesterday. a city so often surrounded by thick fog that it had become a signature worldwide, infamous for murders in cold blood and definitely not a summer vacation destination as of late.
longer days, sunshine, unbearable heat, and did i mention the fucking hell level of a heat outside?
but you had already had enough of it. craving the cold, crisp mornings and the orange hues coloring the dull pavements while everyone else was salvaging every breathing moment of this heat. and you had to wait at least another month? there was no way.
and knowing you as well as he knows the back of his hand — and every shortcut to his favorite burger place — he could take a pretty good guess at what was going through your mind.
"alright, cinnamon rolls it is then." he sighed dramatically, all exasperation and no annoyance behind it whatsoever. because he couldn't stay mad at you even if he really tried — not when you gave him that look, and it wasn't as if he wouldn't go on the other side of the globe had you asked. nope.
the toothy smile you gave him was payment enough. so were your eyes on him as he worked. after setting you on the countertop in one swift move, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. "there." your phone was resting in your lap again. "won't be needing this."
jason moved with a grace you'd fail to copy, like he was born for this or had grown into the habit of putting professionals to shame.
"thank you, jay." you hummed, swinging your feet back and forth without a single care in the world. you had nothing to worry about right now, because your boyfriend was actively measuring the ingredients by eye to a recipe he'd probably remember by heart considering how much confidence he carried.
he breathed a laugh, shoulders visibly relaxing as he rinsed his hands clean, "well, don't thank me yet. you haven't tasted them." obviously, but you were convinced they'd be a whole lot better than those from the bakery down the street.
the sound of each ingredient hitting the metal bowl filled the kitchen space, sugar pouring smoothly, butter coating the mixture. jason couldn't resist the urge to show off a little bit in the stupidest way possible, cracking the eggs with one hand and impressively enough not spilling a drop.
"silly." he murmured, catching a glimpse of your mismatched socks under your pajama pants, trying, and failing, to focus on beating the ingredients until they were blended into a nice dough. "i'm only gonna show you this once. watch carefully, baby." he warned, or maybe that was a quiet plea to keep your attention on him.
and you did, curious eyes following his movements, not because he told you to, but there was something weirdly attractive in the gentleness. "so," you began, "what are you doing now?"
"i have no idea."
bull—
this was his evening now, knuckle-deep in dough, rolling it on the flour-covered surface. everything looked as good as they came so far, perhaps even better than the pictures. he spread the sauce, the scent of cinnamon swirling around you, and before you knew it, they were tucked neatly into the oven.
"let me help."
"you're fine where you are, you hyperactive gremlin." sighing as the cream stuck to his fingers before he made his way over to you, holding out a finger and waiting for you to taste-test it. "is it sweet enough?"
you lapped at the offering and nodded. the icing was the perfect mix of sweet and rich, a tinge of cream cheese breaking through the monotony.
"here, help me with this then." he murmured, handing you a spoonful for you to munch and lick at while he worked, anything to keep you busy.
"It's really good." you commented, actually taking the time to savor it.
jason just shrugged, "yeah?" acting as if his face didn't betray him on instinct upon hearing your review.
jason turned his back for one second, just to check if he had gone over every step of this recipe when you opened the oven door with an excited, "they look ready." hastily grabbing a towel to drag them out, only to miscalculate.
for the record, you didn't mean for this to happen. you chewed on the inside of your cheek, watching redness start to form on the burnt spot even under running water. not exactly an ideal situation to be in on a random tuesday evening.
"it stings." you grumbled as he held your hand under the tap.
"don't worry, no big deal." a soft sigh as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "keep it there, dumbass."
"I am."
simply lovely. who wouldn't want to have their boyfriend dabbing an irritated patch on their hand with a soft towel, applying cream before he pressed a kiss on the inside of their wrist?
"you've officially lost oven privileges." a remark before he actually pulled the tray out, icing pouring smoothly, coating them completely before plating one for you.
and it looked awesome. even in the heatwave, golden on the sides, perfect swirl, soft in the middle as you cut through one.
"careful, it's hot." he mused, leaning on the counter right next to you.
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ ⋆
a/n; kinda repetitive & rushed, but I miss autumn ): tysm for reading ♡
