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Micah’s happy voice sounds through the front of the house. “Angel~ I'm home!”
“In the kitchen!” she calls back.
Micah practically trots into the kitchen with his nose in the air, dropping the shopping bags onto the island countertop. “Oh, you brought out the big pot!”
She giggles, turning from her stirring. “What did you bring home?”
She can almost see imaginary ears popping up from his hair as he lights up.
“Angel, I went down that market street you told me about? There was produce EVERYWHERE!” He starts pulling out ingredients from the various cloth and straw bags. “I got carrots… sweet potatoes… bok choy - I hope I said that right - tomatoes, corn, red and white onions…”
Micah separates a smaller amount and pushes the pile across the counter to where Angel is waiting with her sharpened knife. She transfers all she can carry to the sink to wash and peel as necessary.
“Don't think I'm done!” He says excitedly, although there's no way she possibly could've when he came in with four large bags stuffed to capacity. She listens as he continues unloading his haul like a proud gatherer.
“I didn't even know cauliflower came in yellow! I got the regular white, too. I got all four colours of sweet peppers, white and purple cabbage - why do they call it red? Red onions aren't even red, either!”
Angel chuckles at his tone, bringing over bowls to separate the prepped ingredients. Her husband’s insistence at an excessively wide countertop was currently much appreciated. They could host a full family reunion to this thing.
“I got a bunch of beans and stuff, too! I found those ‘lentils’ you kept asking about, and Lima beans, and black beans, red beans, split peas…”
“Micah Yujin, who are we feeding with all this?” She asks with a laugh. The carrots had been diced and she was on to the broccoli he had purposely not announced. Her eyes roamed over the various mushrooms and pumpkin, lighting up at the butternut squash.
“Me and you, my love,” he answers in a posh tone. “You told me to bring home veggies for soup. This will ensure we execute only the grandest soup possible.”
“It'll be healthy, that's for sure,” she murmurs as Micah pushes the bags to the opposite end of the counter.
He goes over to the sink, washing his hands before returning with his apron hanging from his neck and a knife and cutting board in his arms. “You didn't think I was leaving you to prep all this alone, did you?” He gasps dramatically. “I'm hurt, my angel, that you think so little of me after living as my sweet wife all this time.”
“We've been married for three months, Yujin.”
“And clearly I haven't demonstrated myself enough in those 90 days, Mrs. Yujin.” He makes quick work of the onions, using the excuse to have tears accompany his exaggerated sniffling.
Cassie shakes her head as she sets aside a bowl of greens, clearing her cutting board for the cabbage. “My apologies, my sweet.”
“No!” Micah huffs with a pout, leaving the tears as he moves on to the bell peppers. “This is my failure as a husband. I am more than just a provider, a bringer of raw materials for sustenance. I must prove myself!”
Cassie raises an eyebrow as he pushes away the peppers, dutifully wiping his knife before smacking down a sweet potato. God bless him because as much as she loved the things, cutting them was a workout. She would gladly watch him strongarm that vegetable into submission for their pot.
Micah turned everything into a performance or a good time. Even with his antics he was an efficient kitchen assistant, and pretty soon everything they wanted was in the pot and bubbling away.
He sniffs the air, a confused look on his face. “Angel, is the oven on?” He bent to look but couldn't tell.
“Should be,” she responds as she rinses the dishes. “I've got bread rising in there.”
She squeaks into a laugh as she's suddenly hugged from behind, dropping a - thankfully plastic - bowl. She squirms as Micah peppers her cheek with kisses. “It's just bread, babe, relax!”
“My Angel made bread from scratch with this timing and I must relax?” He asks incredulously. “I shall not!”
“I'm assuming that informing you that my first attempt at a garlic confit is also in there will earn me more physical affect- Wah!” She squawks as she's raised clean off her feet and walked out of the kitchen.
“Mm-mm, mm-mm” Her husband repeats in her ear. “You're not allowed to do this to me. You're showing me up.”
“Micah-”
“ I'm the giver in this relationship, missy. Stop stealing my love language!” They topple onto the large sofa where he smothers her and her protesting laughter in kisses.
It's a good thing they have a rather loud and intrusive kitchen timer.