You're propped up on Erwin's counter, clutching the marble in your hands while you look down beside you and watch what he's doing; he's chopping up ingredients and spices to add to the sauce.
He lifts the sauce spoon to your lips, placing his other hand beneath it to catch any that may drip, "try it, let me know what you think..."
You open your mouth, leaning forward and looking at him, holding eye contact as you wrapped your lips around the spoon to taste the sauce.
For some unexplainable reason the interaction is more intense than a simple sauce tasting.
His eyes hold onto yours, deeply, intently. He's doing more than just waiting for your reaction and you wished that you had the ability to know what the more was.
But even if you couldn't read his mind, you could feel - see even - the same rubber band from before slowly pulling.
You lick your lips and wipe off any excess sauce you may have missed with the gentle brush of your thumb. It's delicious, almost exactly how you remeber it all the times you ate it as a kid. Or perhaps it had been long enough for you to forget the exact details of the flavour, but either way, it was good. Very good infact. He wasn't lying when he said he could cook, though you should hardly be surprised considering the fact that he's made you a five-star breakfast not once but twice now.
"Its good" you say, genuinely.
He smiles, almost proud of himself.
"You need to give me the recipe—"
His brows scrunch together because of his sudden confusion, "you can't cook your favourite meal?"
"I can't cook much of anything" you laughed, but it wasn't funny. "Armin's the cook, not me. I wouldn't even trust myself to boil water, if I'm being honest."
Erwin gestures his head toward himself to signal for you to hop off the counter and come to him, "here, I'll teach you."
You sighed as you hopped off his kitchen counter, waving your finger as you spoke, "if I end up ruining dinner you can't say it's my fault."
