Young Sam Drake One Shots

"Ah, fuck, I got it in my eye!"

    "Right, and now take the sugar," You order him. Sam agreed on baking cookies with you, and you don't really know how much you can trust Sam in a K I T CH E N. I mean he's not bad, there's just a lot he needs to learn.

   "Got it," Sam takes the bowl of... salt. You facepalm at him as you close your eyes and chuckle to yourself, stopping him from pouring it into the mixture in the last second.

   "What? What is it?" He asks you with brows furrowed, repeatedly changing his glance from you to the bowl of salt.

   "Read..." you take the bowl, turning it around for him to see the letters spelling 'salt' on the side, "the bowl," you finish with a short laugh.

    Sam opens his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly again. He sighs and looks at you, placing the bowl onto the counter again, grabbing the sugar instead, making sure that it IS in fact sugar. "They look exactly the same," he mumbles as a brief chuckle escapes his lips too. "No, they don't sweetie," you say, rubbing his arm in comfort. "Okay, but I tried at least, ya gotta give me that, AND, AND, I didn't pour it in the mixture," Sam raises his brows, trying to brush his mistake off. "If I hadn't stopped you, you definitely would've," you raise your brows at him too, staring at him in victory as you win the argument.

    "I really shouldn't have said yes to this, should I?" He sighs, pouring in the sugar, mixing all the ingredients together.

    You laugh quietly, ruffling his hair. "You're doing great, Sammy," you stand up on your tip toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. It took you a lot of courage, considering you aren't dating, yet, and no one has made the first move yet.

   He turns his face to yours with a slight blush on his cheeks, his smile lighting up the entire room as he continues mixing the cookie dough.

   "Okay, do you know what you need to do now?" You quiz him, making him freeze for a second before looking at the recipe you've written down on a small piece of paper.

   "Ah... flour, right?" He smiles at you, hoping that the answer would be a yes so he could prove that he wasn't so bad at this after all.

   "Yeah, right you are," you smile back at him. "See, it's going alright, huh?"

   "I suppose so," Sam says as he reaches for the flour behind your back, but as he pulls it to him, he puts his arm around your shoulder too, pulling you close to his side as he opens the flour carefully. You smile yourself a little bit. "Be careful when you pour in the flour, it can be a little—"

   "Ah, fuck, I got it in my eye!" Sam laughs hysterically, as the flour bounced up in his face as he poured it in. He bends down, shaking the remaining flour out of his messy hair before coming up again, blinking, trying to get it out of his eye. You can't contain your laughter as you look at him in awe, him being totally helpless and small bits of flour dusted on his face. "I told you to be careful!" You step up in front of him, gently brushing off the flour from his cheeks. Your hand ended up resting on his cheek as you got lost in his eyes. But his eyes weren't... romantic? Glowing? They were almost... playful—

   "Gotcha!" Sam blows flour in your face. Alright, there it was. The playfulness. He starts backing out, grinning to himself as it was your turn to be embarrassed now.

   "Oh, you are gonna pay for that!" You take a handful of flour and chase him around the house, throwing it at him, flour flying everywhere, sooner or later the whole house fogging up from it as the war continues between the two of you. Both of you coughing and laughing at the same time.

   "Truce?" Sam says out of breath as he walks towards you, slowly, with a hand smeared in flour sticking out and a smirk on his face. You laugh as you connect your hand with his. "Truce"

   "Now lets get back to those cookies, huh?" Sam puts a hand on your lower back, pushing you out in the kitchen, kissing the back of your head before scratching your back lightly.

   "Just don't smear me in butter this time," you chuckle before grabbing the rest of the ingredients, mixing it into the dough as Sam stands right behind you, his chest touching your back as his hands are on the countertop in front of you, keeping you in a cell.

   He laughs to himself. "No promises," "Hey, we called truce!" "I had my fingers crossed," "Sam, that's not how it works—" "Alright, alright, I'm not gonna smear you in butter," he sighs. "Thank you," you sigh relived, before his hands crept up to your sides, turning you around to face him. This time his eyes weren't playful. They were rather romantic actually.

   "I'm just gonna smear you in kisses instead then," and with that, he pulls you close to his chest and kisses your lips with a hand on your cheek, afterwards kissing your cheek, to your jaw, and all the way to your collarbone as he smirks to himself.

   He comes back up again to see you smiling uncontrollably, verifying your feelings towards him even though he had a pretty good feeling that you liked him too. He looks at you lips for a second again, and you slowly lean in for another kiss.

   "Sam!" You burst as he smears butter from your cheek to your lips in quick motions before laughing to himself again. "Sorry baby, I had to," he says in between his lost breath from all the laughing. "Alright," you say quietly, with soft movements grabbing the butter in your hand and facing him again.

   "Round 2," you say with devilish eyes, stealing his iconic smirk as it was now plastered on your face.

   "Oh, shit"

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Alright this was just a quick lil story. The other ones are probably gonna be about this length too, if you don't mind. Thank you for reading as alwaysssss♥️