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Pete kicks the door closed with his leg, arms full, carrying multiple bags of groceries. “I think my arms are going to fall off,” Pete says, not so much as setting down the groceries on the kitchen counter as he is dropping them. “Why didn’t you just make two trips or ask me to help you?” Patrick asks, questioning his boyfriend’s logic. “Because, Trick,' two trips are for losers, and I’d rather break my arms then making two trips or ask for help,” He says, looking triumphant. Patrick merely smiles at Pete and rolls his eyes. “At this point, I’ve learned not to argue with Pete logic.” Pete hooks his finger through Patrick’s belt loops, pulling him closer by the waist. “Pete logic says we should make out,” Pete says with a smirk, coy look in his eyes. What’d he do this time? Patrick knows it’s only a matter of time before he finds out. “Well, Patrick logic says that if Pete wants any cookies he should let Patrick do his job.” Patrick responds eyebrows raised. Pete pouts before he let’s go of him. “Fine. The chocolate chips are in the bag over there.” He says arms crossed. Walking over, Patrick peers into the plastic bag for the chocolate chips. “Pete. This bag is half empty.” He sighs, a deadpan look falling on Pete. Arms still crossed Pete’s gaze shifts towards the ground. “I may or may not have been trying to seduce you in order to slide by this problem,” Pete says, a hint of mischievous confidence wavering in his voice. The corner of his mouth twitch, folding his deadpan expression into a slightly amused one. “Well, it almost worked. You should try harder next time.” He says with a smug grin spreading across his face. “Damn.” Pete retorts with a smug look of his own. “Fine, I’ll let it slide, but you’re doing all the dishes.” A slight irritation in his voice. Sure he let it slide, but that doesn’t mean Patrick doesn’t have the right to be a little bit peeved. With slight dissent Pete agreed, stalked off, petulant. Finally, leaving Patrick alone to bake.
The cookies were half-assed, but that didn’t stop the familiar, buttery vanilla aroma filling up the small apartment. Patrick set the small egg timer resting on the stove for the first batch before returning to the rest of the dry ingredients sitting in the mixer across the kitchen. Gradually, Patrick added eggs, butter, and vanilla flavoring. He poured the small amount of chocolate chips left into the halved dough and turned on the mixer..It wasn’t long before Pete had returned to the kitchen looming over Patrick’s shoulder. “Whatcha got there Pattycakes?” Patrick doesn’t turn around at Pete, but simply continuing to keep an eye on the mixture listening to the soft whir. “Nothing for you Pete.” Patrick can practically feel the sly look raiding from Pete. “Are you sure?” Pete asks, inquisitively. “Yes,” he says with a more stern notion in his voice. Shit. He needed to check on the timer. But that would require taking his attention off the dough, which he knew he couldn’t trust Pete with for a millisecond. "It's mixing, don't touch." Patrick directs like he's talking to a small child. Which, in reality, isn't really that different. He walks across the kitchen, picking up the timer to see it still has a good 5 minutes to it. Turning around he finds Pete a press away from turning off the mixer. Pete freezes like a deer in headlights, eyes locking with Patrick's. "Don't. " a scowl slowly forming on his face. "I think it's done," Pete says in a low tone. "Touch." A full scowl was now resting on Patrick's face. "What are you gonna do about it?" Pete says, lowering his eyes. Pete’s asking for it more than ever. Instinctively, Patrick reaches into the bag of flour nest to him and grabs a fist full, stepping forward throwing it at Pete as he presses the mixer off.
The flour powders everywhere. It's on Pete, the floor, the counter, everywhere. It catches Pete off guard as well as Patrick. He can't believe he did that. "You little shit." Pete mutters, looking up from the powdery mess everywhere. In a split second, Pete's tackled Patrick, pinning him against the counter. “Whoops, it was an accident.” Patrick tries to lean towards sexy, but he can tell he’s missed it by a long shot. “Oh yeah? Well-” Pete’s cut off by the ringing of the timer. The atmosphere changes drastically, both of them bursting into laughter. Pete not bothering to attempt to finish what he was going to say. The scene looked like something out of a bad porno, which caused Patrick to double over on the counter, body shaking with laughter. “God, we’re losers.” Patrick manages to gasp out, after slightly catching his breath. “We’re like bloopers out of a cheap-ass porno.” Pete grins, wiping the corners of his eyes. “Is that even a thing?” He asks, cheeks aching from grinning like an idiot. Patrick reaches over to turn the timer off, before wobbling off the counter. Before Patrick could do anything, Pete pulls him into a warm hug. Patrick willingly sinks into it, head falling against Pete’s shoulder. Pete rests the side of his face on the top of Patrick's head “God, I love you.” Pete says, breaking the silence. “I love you too.” They just stand there for a while in each other’s arms. Patrick focusing on the soft rise and fall of Pete’s chest. “So… are you going to finish the cookies cause I really want some,” Pete asks, breaking the mood. Patrick can tell he has that toothy, shit eating grin on his face without looking up. “I don’t know if you deserve any. I mean,” he pulls away from Pete, motioning at his clothes. “You got flour all over me.” Pete raises an eyebrow. “Who threw the flour?” countering Patrick’s argument. “Guilty,” Patrick rolls his eyes. “But who compelled me to do?” Patrick says, deciding he’s won the argument. “Fine you win.” Pete mutters. “Good, now start cleaning, and I’ll finish baking. And maybe, just maybe, I'll agree to cuddles on the couch.”