Gwilym Lee Imagines

Messy Bakers

Why is it that I love baking but hate cooking? I've never met anyone else who loves baking more than cooking. You wouldn't think I loved baking with the amount of crap covering the kitchen counter, or the quick movements from one place to another to make sure nothing burnt, but something about it is just so - relaxing. Cooking, however, is a nightmare.

As I'm taking the caramel off the stove and stirring it, I hear the front door open and close. I don't even have to wonder who it is when I hear Gwilym's voice echoing down the hall. "Whatever you're baking, it smells amazing!"

"Thanks. It's brownies and a caramel slice." I yell over my shoulder as I hear Gwilym approach.

"You're going to be lucky if I don't scoff down the brownie... What the hell happened in here?" I turn my head to glimpse at Gwilym, saying; "I'm baking," before turning back to pour the caramel in the baking dish and leaving it there to cool.

"I can see that," he says, "but I think it might be a bit more helpful if you put the ingredients into a bowl or pan instead of on the kitchen counter." After I put the pot down, I turn around and mock glare at him, folding my arms and jutting my hip out.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Do you have to comment about me being a messy baker every time I bake?" Gwilym smiles cheekily, slowly stepping towards me before wrapping his hands around my waist and brings me flush against him. I uncurl my arms and have my hands resting on his chest. I have to fight the smile that wants so badly to appear on my face, so I have to keep pretending to be annoyed at him. I can never stay annoyed at him for too long. 

"Only for as long as you make an absolute mess when you bake. So, yes, every time you bake." I gasp and slap him on the shoulder, earning me a hearty laugh. "But this time I swear you've set a record for how much mess you can make. There is not a single surface that is left bare."

"Yeah, but if it ain't a mess, did you even bake? And at least I know the finish product will be great." I smile smugly.

"I think you just jinxed yourself there."

"No, I didn't. You and I both know I'm right. Baking is the only thing I'll let myself be cocky with because we both know I'm good at it. What's the point of owning a bakery if I'm not good at baking?"

"Wow, you're right, you are being cocky. So, what if something were to happen, like, I don't know..." I suddenly feel Gwilym's finger swipe along my cheek, leaving a trail of something sticky, "that." He finishes. Son of a bitch put his finger in my caramel! And now he has the nerve to laugh. 

"You're an asshole. Do you know how I punish assholes?" I ask in an overly sweet voice and as discretely as I can, I reach over, grab one egg and smash it onto his head. "An egg for an egg." I laugh.

"Well, the caramel is looking a little runny." He says before he flicks some flour into my face.

Couching a little from the flour, I say; "You definitely don't know a thing about baking. But your egg does look a little lonely." I smash another egg onto his head, his hair falling flat on his head from the weight of the yolk and he squints, trying not to let the yolk fall into his eyes. How is it, even if he has a couple of eggs cracked on his head, he's still as handsome as ever?

"And after we've added all the ingredients..." his voice drops low, sending my heart into sprints, "we  mix them all together." He leans forward, capturing my mouth with his. As much as I usually love to kiss him, I soon have to lean away, grimacing.

"I'm sorry, but I think you're right about me jinxing it. You taste terrible." He chuckles.

"Probably because all you are getting is the raw egg. I, however, have sweet caramel." He leans in, and I close my eyes, thinking he's going to kiss me again, but then I feel his tongue on my cheek, licking away the caramel and making me squeal. "You are delicious."

"And you are disgusting." I laugh.

"But you still love me."

"I don't know why." I say jokingly. I move away from him, breaking out of the grip he held on my waist. "Now you're going to help me clean all of this mess up since you helped to make it."

"Only what's on the floor!" He protests.

"Too bad, you're helping. That's what happens when you stick your dirty finger in my caramel."