5SOS Imagines

Luke - Baking

Author: Rhine

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"Was that salt or sugar?"

"Luke!"

"What? They both look the same!"

"You're supposed to taste test one of them or something first!"

You're tempted to facepalm – though you won't be making that mistake twice, the first time left you with a hand-imprint of flour on your forehead and Luke doubled over in laughter for five minutes – and settle for a deep sigh of frustration mixed in with a whine of helplessness.

The tall boy sticks a skinny finger into the bowl, sucking his batter-covered fingertip with wide blue eyes and comically hollowed cheeks.

"Yeah, that's sugar alright – actually it's pretty good y'know I'm gonna taste a little bit more just to make sure it's really sugar, actually – you can never be too sure."

"Luke, do not put your finger back in the – oh my god."

The blonde looks at you with wide eyes of innocence, though you can see the deviousness behind his pink-lipped smile that stretches across his cheeks.

"Luke, you do realize that the cake is for Michael, not you?"

"What Michael doesn't know won't hurt him," he sniffs, licking the last of the sugary batter off his finger. "Besides, he loves me anyways."

You roll your eyes and sigh loudly, turning back to the sticky pages of your cookbook – courtesy of Luke, who couldn't get enough of fingerprinting every glossy page with his chocolate-stained fingers – trying to figure out what to do next.

"Alright, so we put the cocoa... buttermilk, there... vanilla extract, right, right.... okay, I think we got it all."

"So it's ready to eat?"

You look at Luke's eager expression – the boy's practically hopping on the tips of his toes, as enthusiastic as when you first proposed the idea of baking a cake for Michael's birthday.

"No, Luke. Stir first, please. You mix this batter and I'll do this one – and for the love of god, please don't try to go all Iron Man on me like last time and manic whisk or whatever it was you called it – "

"Turbo spin."

"Right. Just don't do that again, okay? It took us – took me, thanks for helping by the way – nearly fifteen minutes just to scrape everything off the fridge and the floor. So gentle, please."

"Yes, ma'am!"

You hand him the bowl and whisk carefully, and the boy is more than happy to receive it, happily humming as he beats the contents, swaying his hips awkwardly to the music playing in the background.

You marvel at the oddity of your boyfriend – you didn't expect him to be this enthusiastic about baking, practically bowling you over and begging to help when you offhandedly told him you'd be baking Michael a cake for his birthday present.

You're not sure how he talked you into it – it's my present to Michael, Luke! – but you're fairly certain it had a little something to do with his lips that made you change your mind.

You can't decide if you regret it; a couple hours later and he's decked in a once-white apron – now smeared with flecks of yellow, cream, brown, and god knows what else – ripped skinny jeans contrasting the big bow of the apron behind his back with bits of flour in his hair and chocolate stains on his forearms.