Summary: You and him are crazy in love with each other, huh?
Warnings: implications of sex
Send in a number 1-838 and I'll write a blurb based on the song!
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Music plays in the kitchen, the mixer whirring with different ingredients adding onto the noise. You and Chris had craved cookies after spending some time rolling around in the sheets and decided, despite it being almost three in the morning, to make them from scratch. While there is some baking going on, most of the time is you and him being silly and you telling him to not eat raw ingredients.
The kitchen is a bit of a mess, the very kitchen you and him had in pristine condition a week ago when you moved in. This apartment is the first one you and him share together, taking quite the step in the relationship. You were practically living in his place and there wasn't enough space so you both decided to look for a bigger apartment.
The song changed to one of his favorites, which lead to him pulling you away from the mixer to dance. You don't mind one bit, smiling and laughing with him as he twirled you around the kitchen. It's not the cute dancing scene you see in movies considering his hand quickly found your ass and gave it a squeeze.
"Hey- save that for the bedroom."
"It's not like we haven't fucked in here." He teases.
You gesture over to the cookies. "Well yeah, but don't you want cookies?"
His hand slides around to your front, fingers reaching under the t-shirt of his you put on. "I can think of something sweeter to eat."
You don't need him to tell you twice. But you still want cookies. "How about after we put the cookie dough in the oven?"
And so once the cookies were in the oven, Chris did exactly what he wanted to do, eat something sweeter than cookies. He left you on the couch to catch your breath while he checked on the cookies in the oven.
"They're almost done, nena." He sits next to you, placing an arm around you. "A few more minutes."
You lay your head on his shoulder, settling into his side. There's silence, but it's not awkward. It's nice, you and him just enjoying the closeness. His love language is physical touch, so while he's pretty vocal about telling you how he loves you, it's these moments you feel it most. The gentleness and comfort of his touch, expressing things words could never.
The timer went off, meaning the cookies are done. After letting them cool for some minutes, time spent dancing around the kitchen again, you and him are eating the chocolate chips cookies.
"Fuck these are good." He says, a second cookie already in hand.
"They are. We're never buying premade dough again."
Chris pulls you into his side, and for a moment he imagines a future where he bakes these cookies with you in a different kitchen with children. Where he'd pick up his baby girl and sneak her some chocolate chips. Where you and his son place the raw dough on the cookie sheet. Where he stands in the kitchen with you, like he is now, but with kids, eating cookies.
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