Work Text:
”Taishirooooo.”
Your partner snorts. His smile spreads widely across his cheeks, amusement twinkling in his irises as he watches you lean half of your body over the counter to get a better glimpse of his work. Dry ingredients—a few cups of flour, some baking soda, a pinch of salt—were combined all into one bowl. You sniff at it, expecting the pale mixture to somehow smell like something. The large man responds to your slurred call of his name. “Yea babe?”
“When’s it gonna be finished?”
“I ain’t even made the batter yet, dear. It’s gonna be a while.”
“Ugh.”
His chuckles fill the room as you slump clumsily back into the barstool. Your fingers grasp at your glass bringing it up to your lips to eagerly drink its contents. The cool pink lemonade cocktail is sweet on your taste buds and tickles your throat as you gulp it down. The BMI hero quirks a blonde eyebrow as he watches you, taking a pause from his gathering of the wet ingredients for his banana bread. “(Y/N), how many shots have ya had already?” Your eyes narrow and you bring up a hand to count on your fingers. Your mind feels like it’s swimming and you squint at your fingers as if it will somehow jog your memory. It strangely seems to work and you throw your arm out in enthusiasm, palm fully spread out in his direction. “Four!”
“That’s five, babe.” You put down your thumb. “Now that’s four.”
You sit back satisfied with yourself and Taishiro shakes his head, laughter spilling past his lips as he pours the brown sugar in a separate bowl. The stand mixer creams the amber crystals together with the softened butter at low speed. You hum in content. Anri’s “Last Summer Whisper” plays softly in the background as you watch your partner work. His thick hands, littered with scars from countless battles with villains, gently crack both of the eggs into the same bowl. The yolk and egg whites break apart and blend with the sugar mixture. You watch intensely as if you expected something incredible to suddenly sprout forth from the concoction. Like an alien, or a fountain faerie.
“Baby are ya sure you’re good over there?” Your partner’s teasing tone is not lost on you despite your brain’s increasing fuzziness and you cackle in response as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m fantastic.”
“And with that I declare you as officially drunk.” His tuscan sun eyes crinkle at the corners as he adds the bananas, cranking the mixer to a higher speed so that they easily smush. You scoff in offense. “I’m not that fucking drunk!”
“Ya definitely are!”
“Nooo.”
“Yessssss!”
”Noooooo!” Your protest melts into a fit of giggles as you bang your fist against the counter. Your lover’s guffaws combine with yours and he struggles to peel the last fruit as the hysterical symphony of laughter drowns out the background music. Taishiro’s plump cheeks that spread from the expanse of his grin are like soft balls of rising dough and you aren’t sure whether the warmth in your chest is from him or the liquor. You so desperately want to reach over and kiss his face. Doing so, however, would likely spill over the creation he’s worked at so diligently and you weren’t nearly bad enough to take that risk. Gazing at your lover in admiration you flash your own crooked grin instead. “You’re hot.”
He snorts, trying to keep his composure as he adds spices. “Thank you.” Cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove fall into the pretty copper mix. He adds a dash of vanilla for good measure. The sweet scent is starting to hit your nose and you sigh in longing. “Taishiro, why would you torture me like this when it takes so long to bakeeeee?” He glances at you in disbelief.
“Youasked me to make it!” Oh right. You did. Oops. As you go to sip more lemonade you frown at the empty glass. You push yourself off the stool walking towards the bottle to make yourself more. Taishiro calls after you. “Ya think ya had enough?”
“Nah!” Your pink beverage fills the cup halfway and you raise it to the air swaying to the music as you “cheers” to no one in particular. “It’s Friday! We’re finally both off at the same time!” You twirl towards him and dance freely at his side as he pours in the dry ingredients from the first bowl. You poke at his abdomen. He’s squishy, like a dumpling. “Dance with me!”
The soft hero gazes at you fondly, leaning down considerably to press a tender peck on your lips which you happily accept. “Just a sec! Let me get this in the oven first.” As he shuts off the standing device you can’t help but clap your hands in excitement. You feel like drooling as the rich batter fills the greased pan your boyfriend previously set aside. Taishiro gently smooths the surface with a mixing spatula and when he’s finished hands you the cutlery with a proud smile. “Taste it.” You cheerfully oblige.
The batter is pleasant to your palate and you let out a merry hum as dopamine floods your system. The cinnamon and nutmeg compliment the banana perfectly and the buttery taste melts on your tongue. “It’s perfect.” He snickers. “I know.”
You take another large gulp of your cocktail as he places the pan in the oven with care and turns the dial on the timer for 50 minutes while you sift through your playlist for a change in song settling on a song with a fun tempo. You pounce the moment your boyfriend removes his oven mitts taking his calloused knuckles into your hands as you attempt to spin him around the kitchen. Obviously given your size difference it doesn’t work very well but thankfully he indulges you by moving around as you command. The beat of the music floods the living space, blending with the sound of you and Taishiro’s laughter. You both awkwardly shuffle on your feet as the alcohol has long since removed any of your inhibitions leading to unpredictable movements that your partner doesn’t know how to follow.
None of that matters to either of you though. You never feel embarrassed with him and the same could be said for the way he felt since the moment you entered his life. Your heart swells as he watches you, his round features dusted with a rosy hue as you frolic around the expanse of your living space through each change of song. You tease him, but there’s no malice laced in your words. “Can you even dance?”
His boisterous cackling brings a lopsided smirk to your face. “You’re one to talk!” And you both roar with laughter as the hero scoops you into his strong arms like a treasured gift. Who cares if you could? Who cares if you couldn’t? As the smell of bread settles in your nose, as the music thumps in your ears, and Taishiro’s messy blonde hair and playful eyes reflect nothing but his adoration for you, it doesn’t matter. You were having fun.
“I love you.” Maybe it was the alcohol making you bolder than your sober self. Maybe it was just your pure unrivaled affection for him. Perhaps it was a combination of both. None of it dampens the love you have for him. As he brings you in for a kiss, the warmth of his body embracing you like a plush comforter on a cold November evening you take comfort in knowing that he feels the exact same way for you.
“I love you, too.”