Boyfriend imagines

The Cooking Catastrophe

It all started with an innocent idea: "Let's make dinner together!"

B/N had been watching cooking shows on YouTube, and suddenly, he was convinced that we could whip up a gourmet meal just like the professionals. I wasn't as optimistic, but I didn't have the heart to crush his culinary dreams.

"Okay, what are we making?" I asked, leaning against the counter as he excitedly flipped through a recipe book that he'd dug out from somewhere. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

"How about... chicken parmesan? It looks easy enough," B/N said, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

"Chicken parm? You sure about that?" I raised an eyebrow. The last time he tried to make toast, he nearly set the fire alarm off, so chicken parmesan seemed like a bit of a leap.

"Absolutely! It's just chicken, cheese, and some sauce. How hard can it be?"

Famous last words.

We started by gathering all the ingredients, and everything seemed to be going smoothly at first. B/N was humming happily to himself as he pounded out the chicken breasts with a mallet, a little too enthusiastically, but I didn't say anything.

"So, you coat the chicken with breadcrumbs, right?" he asked, glancing over at me with a flour-covered face. He somehow managed to get flour not just on his hands but all over his face and hair, too. How? I had no idea.

"Yes, but first you dip it in the egg wash," I instructed, biting back a laugh as he awkwardly tried to follow my directions.

"I got this, no problem," he muttered, concentrating hard as he dipped the chicken into the egg, then the breadcrumbs. I watched with amusement as his brows furrowed in deep focus.

B/N might have been a novice in the kitchen, but he looked so determined, and it was adorable. I couldn't help but admire his effort, even if I had serious doubts about the outcome of this meal.

"Alright, that's one piece done," he said proudly, holding up a breaded chicken breast.

"It looks... edible," I teased, smirking.

He shot me a playful glare. "You just wait. This is going to be the best chicken parm you've ever had."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," I said, suppressing a grin.

Everything was going okay until it came time to fry the chicken. That's when disaster struck.

B/N confidently placed the chicken into the hot pan, and for a few seconds, it seemed like everything was fine. But then... the oil started popping. Violently.

"AH! Hot, hot, hot!" B/N yelped, jumping back as a particularly aggressive splash of oil narrowly missed his arm.

I couldn't help it-I burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" he exclaimed, though he was chuckling too, his attempt at being serious completely ruined by the ridiculousness of the situation.

"You look like you're battling the oil!" I gasped between fits of laughter, clutching my stomach.

"I'm trying to make you a nice dinner, and this is the thanks I get?" he said, dramatically holding a spatula like a sword as he fought off another splash of oil.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" I said, still laughing. "Here, let me help."

We worked together to get the chicken cooked, but the kitchen was quickly turning into a warzone. There were breadcrumbs everywhere, flour scattered across the floor, and somehow, B/N had managed to get sauce on the ceiling. Don't ask me how-he's a magician when it comes to making a mess.

When we finally pulled the chicken out of the oven, it was... well, let's just say it wasn't exactly restaurant quality. The cheese was a little burnt, and the chicken looked a bit overcooked, but B/N was beaming with pride.

"Tada! Chicken parmesan, à la B/N," he announced, presenting the dish with a flourish.

I eyed the slightly charred chicken with amusement. "You know, it actually looks... kind of good."

"See? I told you I could do it!" he said, puffing out his chest a little.

We sat down at the table and took our first bites. The chicken was... not terrible. A bit tough, maybe, but it had flavor. I looked over at B/N, who was chewing thoughtfully.

"Well?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's... not bad," he said, trying to sound confident, though I could see him struggling to swallow.

I laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You did great. Really."

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for not laughing... too much."

We ate what we could, and by the end of the meal, we were both stuffed-though more from laughing than from the food itself. The kitchen was a complete disaster, but neither of us cared.

As we cleaned up, B/N wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Thanks for putting up with my crazy ideas."

"Hey, I love your crazy ideas," I replied, leaning back into him. "Besides, this was fun."

"Yeah, it was," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck. "Even if we nearly burned down the kitchen."

"Next time, maybe we should stick to something a little simpler," I teased, turning around to face him.

"Or," he said, grinning mischievously, "we could order takeout and pretend we cooked."

I laughed and shook my head. "Deal."

B/N leaned in and kissed me softly, his lips warm against mine. "You're the best, Y/N," he whispered.

"I know," I teased, poking him playfully in the side.

We stood there in the middle of our messy kitchen, laughing and holding each other, and in that moment, I realized that it didn't matter how the dinner turned out. What mattered was that we were together, making memories-whether they were romantic or ridiculous.

And with B/N, there were always plenty of both..🌸