butterflies ઇଓ matt sturniolo imagines

𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘴

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

     matt sat at the edge of the island, staring intently at you as you worked by the stove. he was staring so much, in fact, that you felt like little holes were being drilled into the back of your skull.

     "you know, these cookies will not bake faster if you fucking stare me to death."

it's christmas eve, and you were tasked with making the cookies, because matt and his brothers were a fire hazard in every sense of the word. letting them near the oven would end in disaster. plus, you had a good family recipe for scratch cookies- nobody wants box cookies on christmas. but, since matt and his brothers were boys, they were eager to get their hands on your food. at first it was all three of them sitting and watching, and after a few minutes nick and chris started to stick their fingers in the cookie dough and were stealing handfuls of chocolate chips every time you turned around; after you caught them, you had to banish them from the kitchen. matt just stayed put, slightly afraid, but still wanting to watch you as you baked.
     you didn't mind the company, especially when it was matt. but it wasn't much fun working while the boy watched like a hawk.

     "i'm not staring!"

     "i can feel you staring at me!" you chuckled, turning around, "it's like you have lasers for eyes!"

     matt's lips curled into a cheesy grin when he saw the stripe of flour that coated your cheek like white paint. you had flour all over your apron, and there were little flecks of it in your hair- you made the mistake of turning the mixer on too high of a setting. it wasn't your fault; when the brothers cackled in unison at the cloud of white powder surrounding you, you blamed them and said their watchful eyes made you nervous.

     "you've got a little somethin' on your face," matt wiped at his cheek, gesturing for you to do the same.

     with a rosy blush creeping up slowly, you swiped at your skin, missing the flour by an inch. he just kept smiling and hopped out of his chair, waddling over to you and wiping it for you. you stood still as he dragged his thumb across your cheek, and felt little jolts of electricity all over your body when he pulled his hand back.

     "did you get it?"

     "yep, all gone."

     "thank you."

     matt leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your cheek, right where the flour was, and you felt like your face might go up in flames.
     you went back to work, grabbing a little chunk of cookie dough and rolling it between your palms to form a ball. you watched the way he eyed the cookie dough as he leaned against the counter, and you decided it wasn't worth it to fight him off. so, you turned to him and said, "this would go a lot faster if i had some help."

     "you mean it? i can help?" matt's eyes lit up like little blue christmas lights.

     "yes. just please follow my directions, and don't touch the oven. you'll burn the house down."

     "too soon, baby! too soon." matt pretended like he was hurt, and made a face that said, ouch! you couldn't control the guilty laughter, forgetting that sometimes jokes like that weren't so far off base from his life experience. but you didn't apologize- it was a good joke! you had to give it to yourself.

you smacked his shoulder and let him dig in to the dough with you. you showed him just how much to take, and told him just how long he should roll it before it melts from the heat of his hand; he made his own tray, and placed them in rows of four, just like you said. his cookies were more like lopsided, nonconforming shapes, but they were cookies nonetheless, and when he finished the tray he bumped your elbow with his and presented them proudly.