Work Text:
“Okay, so now that we've gotten the eggs all whisked the next step is to...”
Hunk trails off, realizing he's lost the attention of his formerly determined pupil. Keith's attentive gaze has drifted from the ingredients in front of them to the admiral who just happens to find himself in need of items from the kitchen today, despite having to bypass the one closer to his office to get here.
Weird.
It's not petty to clear his throat, jerking Keith's attention back to the task at hand with a raised eyebrow. It's just... necessary.
Unlike the way Shiro bends to rummage around in the bottom of the cabinet, back arched and ass popped in a way that Hunk is sure he would enjoy if he swung that way... or if Shiro wasn't currently doing his damnedest to get between Hunk and tonight's dessert prep.
To his credit, Keith looks properly apologetic as his whisking hand whips back into action with more vigor than is strictly needed for eggs that have already been beaten to hell and back.
“Sorry Hunk,” he mumbles, flushing to the tips of his ears as he tries not to steal glances at Shiro's clattering across the kitchen. “Just um... yeah...”
“Yeah.” Hunk grunts, throwing a side-eye that he hopes Shiro can feel burning into the back of his head. This is the fourth time in an hour and a half that the admiral has made an appearance, each time greeting Keith with a smile like they hadn't seen each other for weeks. It might be sweet if it wasn't so utterly obnoxious for the task at hand. “Okay, well it's time to add the sugar, so... you can just... leave the eggs alone now buddy.”
“Oh.” Keith glances down at the bowl in his hands, sheepish as he notices the froth and bubbles he's made. “Uhh... in this bowl?”
“Sure.”
It'll work, and Hunk is definitely not going across that kitchen and engaging Shiro to get him to move out of the way enough to get another bowl. No way. Then Shiro will ask what they're doing, and maybe try to help – and not only is this supposed to be a surprise, but the last time he got anywhere near Hunk's good oven he melted a plastic tray right through the bars.
No. Shiro will not be helping them today.
And if he doesn't get out of Hunk's kitchen he's going to be hurting today.
“Is there something you're looking for?” he calls across the kitchen, tone mild and eyes sharp, “because if there is I can get it for you so you can be on your way to do important admiral things.”
“Oh, uh-” Shiro flusters, straightening up from his peacocking to cast a guilty glance across the kitchen island. “I was just um... looking for some...” his eyes dart wildly around the kitchen, like Hunk regularly keeps a supply of bullshit handy, “-uh, mitts!”
“Mitts.”
Hunk resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose – if only because his hands already have a dusting of flour.
Keith, innocent soul that he is, brightens immediately. “Oh! Mitts!” He turns toward Hunk with palpable excitement, a puppy ready to show off his new trick for pets. “Those are in the third cupboard to the left.”
Hunk nods at him, patting his arm with one floury hand since he's dirty already anyway. “Good job Keith, now Shiro can get back to work.”
“Right,” Shiro huffs and scratches at the back of his neck as he shuffles over to the correct cabinet, opening it up to find the oven mitts he definitely needs. “I'll just uh...” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder before shuffling out of the room with a smile and a wave of the mitt.
Keith waves back, nearly catching his sticky hand in his hair as he watches Shiro go like the lovesick kid that he is.
They're adorable. Hunk is so tired.
“Okay, so.” He nudges Keith with his elbow and nods back at the bowls. “You can stir in the sugar now, and then the vanilla... then we can start adding the dry stuff we mixed earlier.”
“Got it.” Keith nods to himself and sets to the task with admirable focus. He'd be such a good trainee if Hunk could only keep the pests out of the kitchen while he works...
The batter comes together in no time under Keith's intensity, perfectly smooth as he folds in the morsels and fruits that make these Shiro's favorite cookies. Each scoop he globs onto the tray is another mark of his devotion to the fool that Hunk just knows is still lurking around somewhere, waiting to throw Keith off his groove again.
Fortunately, they remain undisturbed all the way until the cookies are in the oven, which has been perfectly preheated without any mishaps or plastic dishes left inside. Now all that's left to do is wait.
Unfortunately, waiting has never been Keith's specialty.
He maintains a vigil in front of the glass, peering at the cookies as they rise almost imperceptibly slowly. “How much time do they have left?”
Hunk refrains from screaming into his apron, because he truly does love Keith. Barely.
“Twelve minutes, buddy... two less than the last time you asked.”
Keith grunts in acknowledgment, fingers tapping out an impatient rhythm on the edge of the oven. He squints like it'll give him laser vision – like he could both make them cook faster and keep them from burning by sheer force of will.
Come to think of it, that's not so far fetched... Hunk's seen him out-stubborn a lot of things, death included.
But of course, the one thing that can tear him from his vigil strolls back in at the seven minute mark.
At least he has the decency to be carrying a cup this time, and the oven mitt that Hunk had already resigned himself to missing for the rest of his life. He's not going to ask what Shiro needed it for, he really doesn't need to know.
“Thanks, Hunk,” Shiro smiles at him on the way to the cupboard to replace the mitt, letting his fingers trail across Keith's shoulders as he passes him. Keith arches like a needy cat, head tipping to trail after the touch in a way that makes Hunk feel like an intruder in his own kitchen. Shiro's arm stays, of course, just floating there in a gentle caress as he busies himself doing approximately nothing by the sink. He doesn't even try to look like he's doing a real thing, just stands there smiling down at his boyfriend as his giant robot thumb strokes Keith's cheek.
Right in front of Hunk's cookies.
“Thirsty, Shiro?” Hunk calls out, maybe just a little louder than needed judging by the way they both startle. Oops. He jerks his chin toward the tumbler forgotten in Shiro's other hand, just hanging there limp as he ogles Hunk's kitchen assistant. “Sink is right there.”
“Ah, yes... right.” Shiro coughs, robot hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind Keith's ear before floating back to him like nothing ever happened. “Thirsty, yes.”
“I can tell,” Hunk grunts, eyes boring into the side of Shiro's head as his friend and resident hopeless sap slowly turns the color of the cranberries in his cookies. “You look thirsty. Parched even.” He leans his elbows onto the counter and cocks his head with the smile that his grandma used to give to tourists. “Is that why you keep coming back in here during our Hunk and Keith time?”
Shiro has the decency to look chagrined at least, but come on. Five times? Who really needs to come into the kitchen five times in two hours? Hunk doesn't even make that many trips when he's not actively making something.
“Oh, I ah... you know...”
“Yeah Shiro,” Hunk sighs, shaking his head at the hopelessly dopey smile that spreads across Shiro's face as he looks down at Keith camped out on the floor. “I know... now stop distracting Keith so he can pull your cookies out of the oven.”
“For me?” Shiro blinks at him in surprise as Keith grins and grabs his own pair of mitts, pulling the tray out with a flourish.
They're perfectly golden brown and smell amazing.
“Of course,” Keith beams up at him as he carefully settles the tray on the counter, heart in his eyes, “who else would I be making them for?”
Who else indeed.
“Aww, baby!” Shiro scoops him into a hug, nuzzling into Keith's hair where he presses a series of dramatic kisses. “You're just the sweetest.”
Hunk smiles to himself, sighing as he wipes his hands on his towel before stepping out of the kitchen – they're cute, but a little too much even for his sweet tooth sometimes. He trusts that Keith can handle the cooling and testing process alone.
In the meantime, he thinks he just might go find out a certain someone's favorite type of cookie...