fave tumblr imagins

su.mer days- rooster pt 2

"Don't you have an important plane to fly?"

"Day off, hence-" he pointed at his grocery bag. "Now will you let me help you? Please?"

"Well, if you insist."

You heaved yourself on the counter, your legs dangling in the air. Bradley looked a little bit lost so you started giving him instructions on what to do, how much water he should use and when to put the pasta in. He was trying really hard, but it was obvious that he didn't cook very often.

"Jesus, don't stirr so hard."

"What! I thought it's going to get blended anyway!"

"Yeah, but still. You could be a little more graceful, don't be so heavy-handed."

"I am a big guy," Bradley sniffed.

He sure was.

The kitchen wasn't the biggest in the first place, but as soon as Bradley came in, it seemed it shrunk to half its size. The blender looked tiny in his hands when he took it out of the cupboard. He grabbed the cheese grater, holding it over a bowl as he grated the cheese and your eyes glazed over as you imagined his hands holding you in place while he did god knows what to your body.

"You okay? You look a bit flushed."

Quickly, you averted your eyes from his hands, hoping he hadn't noticed. What kind of person lusts over a man who was just trying to cook for you? Nah, wait, that was kind of a normal thing to lust over, wasn't it?

"Fine. Just a bit warm."

Bradley side-eyed you, a smirk curling on his lips before he turned his attention back to his task at hand. You tried to keep your lusty eyes at bay for the remaining time Bradley was standing at the stove and about thirty minutes later, Bradley plated you a beautiful portion of pasta, his eyes fleeting to the second plate.

"Oh come on, that would be mean of me not to let you eat after you worked so hard. Eat with me."

Just like the room it was standing in, the table was tiny, barely fitting two grown adults. You and Bradley sat across from each other, knees brushing occasionally as you ate.

"You don't cook often, do you?"

He stared at you, mouth open before he took another bite of the pasta, pursing his lips.

"It doesn't taste that bad, does it?"

"No no," you assured him quickly, laughing at his expression. "It's good. Just... The way you were fumbling around the kitchen, I guess it was pretty obvious."

Bradley's eye twitched, as if it physically pained him that you were laughing at his expense but he didn't say a thing, shoving another spoonful of pasta in his mouth. It was oddly domestic, and usually that'd make you uncomfortable, but the fact that you didn't? You weren't sure what that meant.

When the two of you finished eating, you stacked the empty plates and put them in the sink, letting the water run over it for good measure. You could hear the chair scratching against the floor behind you as Bradley got up.

"Thanks for lunch."

You glanced at him over your shoulder, smiling coyly. "You were the one who was cooking."