Made for crime

flour wars

I came out of the shower to the sound of muffled laughter drifting in from the hallway. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint the source of it. The mansion was usually quiet at this time, with everyone sticking to their routines. But that laughter... I knew it too well. Nina.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, but I wiped it away almost immediately. I wasn't the type to wake up smiling like some lovesick teenager. But with Nina in my life, that was happening more often than I cared to admit.

I tossed the covers aside, pulling on some sweats and a t-shirt before heading downstairs. As I walked into the kitchen, I spotted Nina standing by the counter, already rummaging through the cupboards. She was wearing one of my old shirts—too big on her, but she somehow made it look effortless and cute. She was barefoot, her hair tied up in a messy bun, and she was humming under her breath.

"What are you doing?" I asked, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorframe.She turned around, eyes wide and bright with excitement, holding up a carton of eggs. "Making breakfast!" she announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world.I raised an eyebrow. "We have a chef for that."

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by my practical approach. "I know, but I want to cook. And I thought you could help me."

I groaned inwardly. Cooking? That was far from my idea of a good time. But one look at her—her bright smile, the way she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet—I knew I was already a lost cause.

"We could just wake up the chef," I suggested half-heartedly, knowing she wouldn't take the bait.

"No way!" she exclaimed, her grin widening. "You and I, together. It'll be fun."

Fun. Right. I highly doubted that, but something about the way she looked at me made it impossible to say no. So I sighed dramatically and pushed myself off the doorframe. "Fine. But you owe me."

She giggled, handing me a bowl of flour. "Trust me, you'll enjoy this."Doubtful.

Nina turned on the stove and started gathering ingredients. I found myself hovering nearby, watching her flit around the kitchen like a whirlwind of energy. She cracked eggs into a bowl, threw in some flour, and I had to admit—she looked like she actually knew what she was doing.

"Pass me the milk," she said, without even looking at me.

 i grabbed the carton and handed it to her, feeling strangely out of my element. Normally, I was in control of everything. In charge. But here? In the kitchen with Nina? I felt like a rookie.

"You're not even trying," she teased, glancing up at me with a smirk. "I thought you said you'd help.""I don't cook," I replied flatly.She laughed. "Well, you do now."

I couldn't help the small smile that crept onto my face as I watched her work. There was something infectious about her joy, the way she found excitement in the simplest things. It was ridiculous how easily she made me forget the world outside.

As she reached for a measuring cup, her hand accidentally knocked over the flour bowl. A cloud of white powder erupted into the air, and I instinctively stepped back. Nina froze, staring at the mess with wide eyes before slowly turning to face me.

"Oh no..." she whispered, biting her lip to stifle a laugh.

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Before I could say anything else, she burst out laughing, doubling over as she clutched her sides. I should've been annoyed. But instead, I found myself chuckling along with her, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

"You think this is funny?" I asked, wiping some flour off my arm.

Her laughter only grew louder, and in a split-second decision, I scooped up a handful of flour from the counter and tossed it right at her.

Nina gasped, her eyes widening in shock as the flour settled on her hair and shirt. "Kai!" she shrieked, her hands flying to her hair.I smirked. "Oops."

"Oh, it's on now," she declared, grabbing a fistful of flour and launching it right back at me.

The kitchen erupted into chaos. What started as a simple breakfast attempt quickly turned into an all-out flour war. Nina dodged behind the counter, flinging flour at me while I retaliated with my own handfuls. Laughter filled the kitchen as we chased each other around the island, both of us covered in white powder from head to toe.

"You're gonna regret this," I warned, grabbing an egg from the carton.

Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

I cracked it over her head with a grin, watching as the yolk dripped down her hair. She gasped, but instead of getting mad, she burst out laughing again.

"You're such a jerk!" she giggled, but there was no bite in her words.

We were both breathless by the time we called a truce, covered in flour and egg, the kitchen a total disaster. I leaned against the counter, trying to catch my breath, and glanced over at her. Nina was still laughing softly, wiping flour from her face. She looked ridiculous, her hair a mess, her clothes covered in a fine layer of white powder. But somehow, she also looked... perfect.

"You're a menace," I muttered, shaking my head with mock exasperation."And you're a grump," she teased back, reaching over to poke my side.

I caught her hand, pulling her closer until she was pressed up against me. She blinked up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else, something softer.

"But you like it," she whispered, her smile turning softer.I sighed, unable to resist the pull she had on me. "Yeah," I admitted, my voice low. "I do."She grinned up at me, standing on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to my cheek before pulling away and turning back to the stove. "Alright, truce. Let's actually make breakfast before we starve."

I watched her for a moment, shaking my head at how effortlessly she turned something so mundane into... this. Chaos. Laughter. Fun.

"You're something else, you know that?" I muttered, grabbing the spatula to help her flip the pancakes.

"And you're finally admitting it," she quipped, grinning as she poured batter into the pan.

We worked together—if you could call it that. I wasn't much help, and she knew it. But there was something oddly satisfying about the whole thing. About standing there with her, about the way our hands brushed as we passed ingredients, about the laughter that refused to fade from her lips.When the pancakes were finally done, Nina dished up two plates and we sat at the kitchen island, still covered in flour but not caring in the slightest."This was fun," she said, taking a bite of her pancake. "See? Cooking isn't so bad."I grunted. "Don't get used to it. We have a chef for a reason."She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Yeah, but once in a while, it's nice to just... be normal. Do something silly."

I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt that familiar warmth in my chest. She made everything lighter, easier. And even though I was the last person to admit it, I liked it. I liked her.

"You know you're a pain, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.She grinned. "And yet you still keep me around."I couldn't argue with that