Soccer/Football Imagines

Marcelo [~] Don't Touch My Cookies!

For THEO:

Sometimes you felt like you had two children. There was your actual child, Enzo, and his father, Marcelo who acted like a child most of the time. You loved your husband dearly but sometimes you just wished he would act his own age. This was one of those moments. "Who at the cookies I set out?" you shouted through the house. Hearing giggles in return, you knew the culprit. Or culprits, should you say. "Marcelo and Enzo, get down here right now!" More giggling followed as your husband and your son ran down the stairs. They walked into the kitchen where you had one hand on your hip, the other holding the empty tray where twelve freshly baked cookies should have been lying on. "Well?"

"He did it!" Marcelo accused, pointing a finger at Enzo who looked betrayed.

"You said we wouldn't rat each other out!"

"Sorry, got to save my own skin," Marcelo replied, holding his hands in the air as if you had a gun trained at him. "Let's just put down the potential flying projectile and talk live civilized people," Marcelo said, taking the tray from you and placing it on the countertop.

"Oh you're not out of trouble just yet, mister," you wagged your finger at your husband.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Marcelo feigned shock. "How dare you accuse me of such a heinous act!" he joked.

"He told me to do it!" Enzo shouted, pointing a finger at his father. You looked back and forth between the two curly headed boys.

"I don't care who told who to do whatever. All I care about is that someone ate all of my cookies!" you demanded, crossing your arms across your chest.

"He ate most of them!" Enzo shouted again, pointing at Marcelo.

"I did not! He's lying!" Marcelo said to you. "Who are you going to believe? Your husband you've loved for over ten years now or your sneaky son who also broke the lamp," Marcelo added.

"What lamp?" you asked, looking back and forth between the father and son.

"You weren't supposed to tell her until after we bought a new one," Enzo hissed to his father.

"What happened? And to which lamp?"

"Funny story. It's a little long," Marcelo laughed nervously.

"I have time," you stated, motioning for him to tell the story lest you blow a gasket.

"It was when you went to Sweden to meet up with your friends on that girl's weekend thing or whatever it was. Enzo insisted that we play football inside. I told him no but he forced me. And we broke the lamp in the study," Marcelo explained.

"Enzo forced you?" you questioned, not buying a second of the story.

"With his big puppy dog eyes! You just can't say no to them," Marcelo sighed, pretending to be traumatized by such an instance.

"No. He said that we could play football inside because mommy wasn't around to yell at us," Enzo stated.

"Now that's believable," you commented.

"Traitor," Marcelo muttered.

"Honestly, you two are going to make me go grey by thirty," you complained, rubbing your head with a hand. "Which lamp in the study?"

"The blue one," Enzo replied.

"The one that had that wave design," Marcelo added.

"You mean our wedding present from my mother?" you hissed.

"You should be thanking me, you know. It didn't really fit the room anyways. Besides every time your mother comes over she always complains that we don't dust it enough or take care of it. You should be thanking us," Marcelo nodded as Enzo hopped on his back.

"Partners in crime, I see," you raised an eyebrow at your husband and your son. You wanted to be mad at them, for once. You always were steaming mad for the first hour or so before you just ended up laughing off the stress and anger at something your husband had said. His humorous ways always calmed the situation down after a while. "Teaching our son how to lie and steal from his mother," you sighed, feigning distress. "Despicable."

"I'm not teaching per say. He just gets that naturally from his father," Marcelo winked.

"I'll call your mother and alert her," you teased, turning back to the empty tray on the countertop. "But you two still owe me a batch of cookies. And you two are not allowed to even look at them after they're done." The ingredients were still out so Marcelo and Enzo got straight to work. You pulled up a stool and watched, amused, as they struggled to follow the instructions you had printed out from an online site.

"Crack two eggs into the bowl," Marcelo instructed Enzo, handing him two eggs. Enzo dropped both eggs, shell and all, into the bowl.

"Did it," Enzo stated, seemingly happy at his accomplishment.

"There's not supposed to be shell in there, Enzo. Here, watch me," Marcelo said, cracking an egg only to have it fall onto the floor. "Or not." You laughed and cracked the two eggs for them. "Okay, next step is sugar and salt," Marcelo read from the instructions. "Fill this cup up with sugar and this spoon with salt." Marcelo went to preheat the oven as you watched your son scoop out a cup of salt.

"No Enzo, that's the—" you started to say as Enzo already poured the salt into the bowl. "—salt," you sighed.

"Oops," Enzo laughed, staring down at the large mound of salt in the bowl. Marcelo laughed loudly which made the both of you do the same.

"It should be fine," Marcelo shrugged. "Now flour." As Marcelo held so flour in his hand so that Enzo could see it, Enzo sneezed, sending the floor into Marcelo's hair. You giggled in your seat as Marcelo put some into Enzo's own curly hair.

"Very professional," you smiled.

"Maybe we should just buy you some cookies, to save you from food poisoning," Marcelo said, trying and failing to knock the flour out of his hair.

"I just hope this baby isn't so troublesome," you sighed, waiting for their reaction to your admittance of your pregnancy.

"Baby?" Enzo and Marcelo said at the same time. Enzo looked confused while Marcelo looked shocked and excited at the same time.

"Oh this calls for a celebration! What kind of cookies would you like, m'lady?" Marcelo asked.

"Chocolate chip," you smiled.

"I'll grab them later," Marcelo smiled before pulling you into a quick kiss.

"Ewww," Enzo squealed, throwing some flour at the two of you, making the two of you laugh.