yallre probably bored of me writing them but idc lol
i wanted to write smt christmas-y even tho this is only vaguely so.
i will, however, apologize for how bad it is! lets get this bread
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The quick swing of the door nearly sends it slamming into the wall, barely caught by the end of Dante's shoe as he comes speeding in with a bag on either arm.
"The kitchen's not going anywhere." Ivan grumbles from behind him, barely stopping the door from smacking him in the face while he (begrudgingly) handles the rest of the groceries.
"I know that," Dante huffs, settling plastic bags up on the kitchen island with a satisfied sigh. He starts to shrug his jacket off, a grin on his face. "but I've been looking forward to this for, like, months."
He quickly starts to set everything out on the opposite counter, glancing up for only a moment when Ivan puts the rest of the bags up in front of him.
"They're just dumb cookies."
"That's the attitude of somebody who doesn't want to eat any of my mom's super amazing special cookies." Dante sighs, "What a shame."
He tosses the empty plastic bags off to a corner to deal with later, leaning down to dig through cabinets for the bowls he needs, hearing some incomprehensible grumbling from Ivan.
All he can do is laugh, piling all his utensils up to at least try to keep this organized. "Don't worry. You'll still get some cookies, mister Grinch."
That gets Ivan to crack a smile, rolling his eyes. He snatches the messy pile of discarded plastic bags to put them with the rest. "Yeah, yeah.. you have fun with that. I'll go get the fire extinguisher."
"Hey!" Pulling a bowl from the pile of kitchen crap he's organized. "I'll have you know, I've made these with Gene almost every freakin' year since we were kids! This is the one thing I can't burn."
"Right, because your brother has such a great track record. My bad, you've completely convinced me."
"I'm glad my boyfriend has so much faith in me, at least." Dante hums, rocking gently on his heels. He glances around, spinning to preheat the oven before he forgets it- something he's sure he does a little too often.
Ivan turns, instead, to the coffeemaker, chuckling and trying his best not to start dozing off at the counter. "Just like I always do."
Things settle into a comfortable silence, Dante struggling with a bunch of different measuring cups to the rhythmic tapping of Ivan's fingers on the countertop.
He nearly spills the contents of the bowl he's aggressively mixing, biting the inside of his cheek in concentration as he tries to combine it all properly. Actually, he's pretty sure he got sugar all over the counter already, but that's fine.
The gentle tapping of fingers on granite stops, Ivan's hand now busy with his phone. His focus is another story, though- Dante looks like a complete idiot with the way he has the bowl tucked under his arm, hovering over nothing.
A blunt "Why the hell are you doing that?" gets Dante's attention. He shrugs, waiting for an elaboration he gets a moment later: "..Put the bowl on the fucking counter?"
"..Oh yeah." He laughs at himself, "Thanks, becaaaause.. Iprobablywould'vedroppedit.." There's slight embarrassment there, but it dissipates and he's back to concentrating on the cookies.
He pauses, looking around at the mess of newly bought ingredients and already moving to smash an egg open and (hopefully) not fuck it up.
"So," Ivan muses, glancing towards the cup of coffee slowly being filled by his hand, "Any plans while your dumb cookies are in the oven?"
