Chapter Text
Tai still couldn’t believe this was part of the date.
Not that he was complaining.
At least, not seriously.
When Rejoice had told him they were going back to his house after lunch, Tai had assumed they were going to watch a movie or play some games. Something normal. Something that didn’t require him to actually learn a new skill.
He definitely hadn’t expected to walk into Rejoice’s kitchen and find everything already waiting.
The air itself felt prepared, warm, slightly sweet, like vanilla had already started to bloom somewhere unseen.
The ingredients were already measured.
The bowls were already set out.
The baking trays were lined.
Even the recipe was placed neatly on the counter, edges perfectly aligned like it had been checked twice.
Tai stood there for a moment, staring.
“You planned all this?”
Rejoice looked over from where he was putting on his apron, the fabric rustling softly as he tied it behind his back.
“Yeah.”
Tai glanced around again.
“Before I even got here?”
“Yeah.”
There was something about how casually Rejoice answered that made Tai pause.
Because Rejoice wasn’t acting like he was trying to impress him.
He wasn’t bragging.
He wasn’t waiting for Tai to praise him.
He had just done it because he wanted them to have something to do together.
And somehow, that made it mean more.
“You really like baking.”
Rejoice smiled slightly.
“I do.”
Tai nodded slowly.
“I didn’t know that.”
“I know.”
The answer wasn’t mean.
It wasn’t a complaint either.
But it still made Tai feel something he couldn’t quite name.
Because there were so many things about Rejoice he didn’t know.
And now he was standing in his kitchen, close enough to see the faint flour dust already clinging to the counter edges, seeing a side of him that most people probably never got to.
Rejoice handed him an apron.
The fabric was still warm from being folded.
“Come on.”
Tai looked at it.
“You’re making me work on our date?”
Rejoice gasped.
“I invited you over to make cookies with me. That’s a date activity.”
“Is it?”
“It is now.”
Tai tried not to smile.
He failed.
_____
The first ten minutes were mostly Rejoice teaching and Tai pretending he wasn’t struggling.
Which he was.
A lot.
The kitchen filled with small sounds, spoons tapping ceramic, the soft scrape of mixing, the occasional rustle of Rejoice stepping closer to check what Tai was doing.
“Okay,” Rejoice said, standing beside him now. “You need to mix it slower.”
Tai looked down at the bowl.
The dough resisted slightly under his spoon, thick and stubborn.
“I’m mixing.”
“You’re fighting it.”
“I’m not.”
“Tai.”
“What?”
“The dough has not done anything to you.”
Tai frowned.
“It was looking suspicious.”
Rejoice laughed.
A real laugh.
Close enough that Tai could feel it more than hear it, like it vibrated in the air between them.
The kind Tai had started noticing more recently.
The kind that made him forget he was supposed to be annoyed.
“You are unbelievable.”
“You invited me.”
“I did.”
The simple agreement caught Tai off guard.
Because Rejoice didn’t hesitate. Didn’t joke. Didn’t even soften it with sarcasm.
He just admitted it.
Like he actually wanted him there.
Tai looked away quickly, suddenly very interested in the bowl.
“Whatever.”
_____
When they got to the dough, Rejoice became even more focused.
The atmosphere shifted slightly, less playful, more careful. Like this part mattered in a way Tai didn’t fully understand yet.
“Okay,” Rejoice said. “This part is important.”
Tai immediately paid attention.
“Why?”
“Because if you overmix it, the cookies won’t turn out right.”
“So don’t mess it up.”
“Exactly.”
Tai stared.
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“You say that like you aren’t standing right here ready to fix everything.”
“Because I trust you.”
Tai paused.
That landed differently than it should have.
Rejoice noticed his expression immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
Tai looked back at the dough.
“You just say things like that randomly.”
“Like what?”
“Nice things.”
Rejoice smiled.
“Should I stop?”
Tai immediately answered.
“No.”
The word came out before he could think.
Silence settled for a second.
Tai froze.
Rejoice froze too.
Then slowly, a small smile appeared on his face, like he’d caught something he wasn’t supposed to.
Tai cleared his throat.
“I mean…”
“You mean?”
“I mean you can keep talking.”
“Talking?”
“Yes.”
“Not saying nice things?”
Tai looked away.
“Don’t push it.”
Rejoice laughed again, softer this time.
_____
“Okay,” Rejoice said. “Now fold it.”
Tai nodded confidently.
A little too confidently.
Because within seconds, Rejoice was already shaking his head.
“Tai.”
“What?”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
“I’m following instructions.”
“You’re attacking the dough.”
“I am not.”
Rejoice stepped closer.
The space between them narrowed instantly, warm air shifting as he moved into Tai’s side.
“You’re supposed to be gentle.”
Tai looked at him.
“You’re telling me I need to be gentle with cookie dough?”
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“And yet you’re still doing it wrong.”
Tai sighed.
“Fine. Show me.”
Rejoice smiled.
“Okay.”
He moved in beside him fully now, shoulder almost brushing Tai’s.
“Put your hands here.”
Tai looked down.
Rejoice’s hands came in first, warm and steady, then gently guided Tai’s into position over the bowl.
The contact was immediate and grounding.
Tai felt it everywhere at once, the pressure of Rejoice’s palms over his knuckles, the faint heat of his fingers adjusting Tai’s grip, the way the bowl suddenly felt smaller because Rejoice was so close beside him.
“Slowly,” Rejoice said, voice lower now, closer than before.
Tai swallowed.
“Like this?”
“Yeah.”
Rejoice guided him through the motion.
Fold. Turn. Fold again.
The dough moved differently under their hands, less resistance, more flow, like it was finally being handled correctly.
Tai followed, but his attention kept slipping.
Not to the bowl.
To the fact that Rejoice was right there.
Close enough that Tai could notice the faint scent of him, something clean, slightly sweet, like whatever soap he used had already mixed with the kitchen air.
Close enough that every small correction of Rejoice’s hands made Tai hyper aware of his own.
“See?” Rejoice said quietly. “You can do it.”
Tai looked at the dough.
Then at Rejoice.
“You’re weirdly patient.”
“With you?”
“Yeah.”
Rejoice shrugged, still guiding his hands lightly.
“Maybe because I like helping you.”
Tai immediately looked away.
Because that sentence should not have affected him as much as it did.
_____
Later, after the cookies were shaped and waiting to bake, the kitchen had settled into a quieter rhythm.
The oven hummed softly in the background.
Warm air drifted through the room, carrying the smell of sugar and butter already beginning to melt at the edges.
Tai stole a small piece of leftover dough.
Rejoice noticed immediately.
“Are you eating raw cookie dough?”
“It’s good.”
“You don’t even know if it’s good.”
“I just tasted it.”
“That’s what I said.”
Tai ignored him and took another small bite.
Rejoice shook his head, smiling like he’d given up on correcting him.
“You really don’t listen.”
“You knew that before inviting me.”
“I did.”
“Then this is your fault.”
“Somehow everything is my fault.”
“Usually.”
Rejoice laughed.
Tai looked down, trying to hide his smile.
He failed.
And of course, Rejoice noticed.
He always noticed.
“Tai.”
“Hm?”
“You have something on your face.”
Tai immediately wiped his cheek.
The motion was too fast, slightly clumsy.
“Where?”
“Not there.”
“Here?”
“No.”
Tai frowned.
“Then where?”
Rejoice didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stepped closer.
The space between them shrank again, softer this time, quieter.
“Hold still.”
Tai went quiet.
Something about the way Rejoice said it made him actually listen.
Rejoice reached up.
His hand paused for a fraction of a second near Tai’s face, like he was making sure.
Then his thumb gently brushed the corner of Tai’s mouth.
Warm.
Careful.
Just enough pressure to wipe away the small smear of dough there.
It was quick.
Simple.
But Tai felt it linger anyway, like his skin hadn’t caught up to the fact that it was already over.
Because Rejoice didn’t make fun of him.
Didn’t laugh.
Didn’t turn it into a joke.
He just noticed.
And fixed it.
“There.”
Rejoice pulled his hand back.
“You had dough there.”
Tai stared at him.
“…Oh.”
Rejoice tilted his head slightly, watching him.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
Too fast.
Again.
Rejoice smiled.
“You’re doing it again.”
Tai frowned.
“Doing what?”
“Pretending you’re not affected.”
“I am not.”
“Mhm.”
Tai looked away.
But he couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared anyway, quiet and unguarded.
Because maybe that was the thing about Rejoice.
He always made everything feel easy.
Even when Tai was nervous.
Even when he didn’t know what to say.
Even when he was trying desperately not to fall any harder.
And maybe that was why this date felt different.
It wasn’t because of the café. Or the cookies. Or even the fact that Rejoice had planned everything.
It was because for once, Tai wasn’t trying to figure out how to handle Rejoice.
He was just feeling it.