Can I please get Roommate!Frankie where reader cooks the boys fav food one night?
A Jar
A Roommates universe drabble
Pairing: Frankie x f!reader
Warnings: A partially nude Frankie, assumption that reader’s hands are smaller than Frankie’s, lots of awkward pausing, my rusty ass writing (it’s been a bit, okay?)
A/n: Look, I know this series has included a lot of Frankie ogling the reader. I figured it was time to even the scores out a little bit.
Masterlist | Roommates Masterlist
“Hey, Frankie?” You called through the apartment you’d been referring to as home for just over two weeks now. You’d finally started to get a feel for the kitchen which although surprisingly well equipped was not arranged in a manner you found logical at all and decided to make your new roommates a nice meal as a thank you for putting up with you and preventing you from homelessness.
You hadn’t thought much of pushing through the slightly ajar door to his bedroom when you heard a muffled “Yeah?” from the other side.
“Can I get a hand with—“ What you walked into caused your synapses to pause for a second. Stood in front of you was Frankie, hair damp and tousled, clad in only a towel which hung low on his hips. You could see a flush which had bloomed up his neck from the warm shower he must have just stepped out of, the morning dew like dampness across his skin that had yet to evaporate into the air, the soft dip of muscle beneath flesh and a line of hair down his abdomen which disappeared beneath––nope. Nope, not going there.
You forced your eyes to become occupied by the label on the jar of tamarind paste in your hand. Sure, you were becoming fast friends with this man, and you’d gotten to know him better in the past few weeks than you ever knew some of your closest friends in college but you weren’t quite at the seeing-each-other-naked-and-being-unfazed-by-it part of your friendship. And if the way you could feel the blood rushing to your face and struggled to remember why you came in here in the first place was any indication, you probably wouldn’t be there anytime soon.
“Sorry, I hadn’t realized you were… I can come back.” You stuttered out, only letting yourself peek back up at him when you heard the slightest of chuckles escape him along with an “It’s okay,” as though he hardly realized his state of indecency.
Another brief silence consumes the room and then you gasp out an “Oh, I was gonna ask if you could take a crack at opening this. I can’t seem to get a grip on it.” You say, directing your attention once again to the jar in your hands. “Tiny hands,” you supply, doing something along the lines of rather halfhearted jazz hands which did not do its job to dispel any of the awkwardness in the air but was worth it to see his eyes crinkle up at the corners with another little laugh.
This time he’s the one whose response was slightly delayed and with the way his eyes shifted over you for a millisecond you wonder if you’d managed to get something on your clothes in the midst of cooking.
“Yeah sure,” he lets out suddenly, uncrossing his arms from over his chest to take the jar from you. You’d never realized how large his hands were before and you weren’t quite sure why the discovery made butterflies rise in your stomach but you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling as you scolded yourself for the way you drank in the flex of his arms and the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin. God, was he doing this on purpose?
The jar yields with a satisfying pop that snaps you from your trance and you curse how easy he made it look after the nearly ten minutes you had spent trying to get it open before surrendering to asking for help.
“Thanks, I’ll let you get back to…” you wave a hand in his general vicinity before realizing you weren’t quite sure where you were going with that sentence and instead jerk a thumb back in the direction of the kitchen. “I should get back to cooking,” you grit out, having to refrain from outwardly cringing at how much of an idiot you sounded like despite the amused expression which remained on Frankie’s face.
“What are you making?” He asks and you almost miss the question with how fast you’d made a beeline for the door to prevent yourself from any further embarrassment.
“I’m taking a shot at this pad thai recipe I haven’t made in ages.” You say, hanging onto the door frame as you turn to look back at him one last time, almost managing to prevent your gaze from wandering this time.
“Huh, that’s one of my favourites,” He says, a slight gleam in his eye as though it was some kind of coincidence and you feel a smirk tug at your lips at that.
“So Pope says,” You hummed, and with that you slipped back down the hall into the kitchen.
––––––––––
Masterlist | Roommates Masterlist