"Taste." Louis instructs and shoves a spoonful of broth in front of your face. You raise your eyebrows as you sip it, licking your lips and glancing upward to ponder your response
"Well?" he asks, a mix of expectance and impatience.
You nod as you continue chopping onions on the cutting board in front of you. "Yeah.. yeah, it's good!"
He takes another spoonful for himself, inhaling a huge whiff of it before tasting it again.
"I think.. I think it needs more." He decides and begins dumping half of the spice cabinet into the mixture. You laugh, knowing that whatever he does will come out tasting great, but still amused at his show of it. Always dramatic. Always acting like he knows it all.
"How are those onions coming?" he calls as he rummages around in the fridge for more ingredients.
"Let me see." He raises his eyebrows and walks toward you, peering over your shoulder. "Huh. Smaller."
You give him a silly glare which he returns with a look of impudence, so you play along. "Alright, chef, whatever you say."
"That's more like it." He gives a sly grin and pops your bum before moving back toward the stovetop.
"Louis!" you half whine, half chide.
"What?" he pretends innocence, but the sass in his eyes is obvious. He looks back down and continues to stir his concoction. Just as you're about to talk again, he cuts you off.
"So the onions?" he states, regaining his authoritative tone.
You huff and cross your arms before continuing your work. "You're intolerable, you know that? Intolerable." His only response is a menacing chuckle, to which you roll your eyes, a smile involuntarily forming on your face.
But, despite Louis' crazy antics, without too much more trouble you manage to get the meal in the oven and on the stove. You hop onto the counter as he slides the last dish into the oven, smiling as he pulls off the oven mits and throws them on the counter.
"Ta da!" he grins, his voice cracking, and throws his arms out as he walks towards you. "How's that for making dinner?"
"Perfect." You grin back and he slides his forearms around your thighs on the counter.
"Hopefully it will all taste better than your dancing looks." You comment, your eyes twinkling.
"Hey now, first of all-you know you love my dancing. Like, don't even pretend you don't find a little of this," he begins to do a tamer version of the 'Q-tip dance,' "And a little of that," he continues, mirroring the dance with the other hand, "..sexy. Secondly... what is the heck is that even supposed to mean?" He defensively spits and you can't help but laugh.
"Okay, okay," you try to 'calm' him, laughter not too far away. "Your dancing is sexy. So sexy you're lucky I didn't just.. jump you right then." He nods in agreement, pleased with himself.
"And I'm sure the food will be delicious. You're a great chef." You reply and smile, kidding, but honest. He smiles back, his eyes squinting, and moves a little closer to casually put his arms around your waist.
"That's more like it." He winks at you and you can't help but give a small giggle as you move your hands around him-one falling limply over his shoulder onto his back, the other sliding onto the back of his head.
"You're beautiful." He says quietly, still grinning.
"You're hot." You chuckle back, and he laughs.
"Way to break the mome-" he starts, but you interrupt him with a playful kiss.
"Well sh-" you interrupt him again. His eyes look both playful and determined when you pull away the second time, a cocked eyebrow showing his sass.
"Fine." He aggressively teases and you giggle as he lifts you off the counter, pulling your lips to his. What starts as a playful kiss quickly turns serious, and you pull away, already breathing more heavily. "Louis, the food." You remind, knowing how quickly things usually digress.
"The food will be fine, love." He mutters, still kissing your neck.
"Louis-" you say again with a laugh, forcing him to look at you with your hands clasped around his face. He huffs and lowers you down.
"Alright fine." He dejectedly concedes, but you can see amusement still in his eyes. You drape your arms around his neck.
"Tell me about your day instead?" you ask. He smiles, and you can see his sass returning.
"Well if you insist." He responds and you kiss him one more time before he launches into a full retelling of his day, down to the last sassy detail, which makes you giggle and laugh and tease him incessantly. He pretends to be defensive and sarcastic, but deep down you know he loves it.
