Hi lovelies! I'm sorry it's been so long! I had to write a 50,000 word book for English, so a lot of my time has been occupied with that! But I've finished it and I'm on Holiday Break, so I can get some writing out for you all! Yay! Lots of love! X. ✨
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"Where's the milk?"
You didn't hear Michael's words. Your eyes were glued to the television. Currently, you were watching the movie Psycho, a film that never failed to put you on the edge of your seat. You loved black and white movies. They had a sort of charm about them that you couldn't explain. As you absentmindedly organized the ingredients, you watched the television with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"And she isn't listening to me . . . baby?" Michael spoke, holding back a smile, "Did you hear me?"
He walked behind you and reached out before giving your waist a gentle squeeze. You jumped and turned around, coming face to face with him. He smiled down at you and you blushed.
"I'm sorry, love. Did you say something?" you smiled up at him.
"I asked," he started, putting on hand on your waist and reaching over you with the other, grabbing something on the counter behind you, "for the milk."
"Oh," you replied softly, eyeing his hand that now had the milk carton in it.
"Do you plan on helping me make these?" he asked, walking over to add the milk to the mixing bowl.
"Of course?" you replied unsurely, looking between Michael and the television.
You'd been wanting to bake something with Michael for ages, and now that you guys finally had the opportunity to, you didn't want to mess this up.
"You need my help anyway," you added with a cocky smile.
He raised his brows at you. "I need your help?"
"Mhm. You know you can't cook, Mike."
He laughed softly, approaching you challengingly. "I beg to differ, Y/N. Who cooks all the food when you're sick?"
"Your chef."
"With my assistance!"
"So you sprinkle on the salt?"
He pretended to look extremely offended, making you giggle and get on your tiptoes to kiss his nose.
"I'm teasing, baby. You've actually improved your cooking a lot, ever since your mother started helping you."
"She does have the best cooking," Michael spoke admiringly.
"Yes, she does," you agreed, before looking at the counter full of ingredients, "Anyways, let's get these cupcakes done."
"Finally," he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes.
In the beginning, everything was running smoothly. The ingredients were coming together nicely and you guys were making progress, without distracting one another too much.
That quickly changed when it was time for you to add in the flour.
"Okay, next it flour," Michael said, reading from a written recipe you'd picked up.
A small smile came to your lips. "Okay . . ."
You handed Michael the bag of flour and he carefully poured the measured amount into the bowl. As soon as he put the bag down, you reached in, taking a handful and putting your hands behind your back. When Michael turned to look at you, he could immediately sense your mischief, a trait you both shared.
