It was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday morning, but the kitchen looked more like a battlefield than a cozy breakfast nook. Flour dusted the counters, and somehow there was a pancake batter smudge on the fridge. Sabrina stood in the middle of it all, whisk in hand, with a sheepish grin on her face.
“I swear, this was going well... like, five minutes ago,” she said, laughing as she pointed at the bowl of batter in front of her.
You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to keep a straight face as you took in the disaster zone that used to be your kitchen. “Are you sure? Because it looks like a flour bomb went off in here.”
Sabrina’s eyes widened innocently, and she tilted her head. “I got a little... carried away, okay? But in my defense,” she pointed the whisk at you, “I’m not *that* bad at this. You distracted me.”
You laughed, stepping forward to swipe a bit of batter from her cheek with your finger. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly did I distract you?”
Sabrina leaned into your touch, her eyes narrowing playfully. “By just standing there, being cute. You’re not making this easy, you know.”
You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “So this is my fault?”
She shrugged, the smile not leaving her face. “Kinda.”
You rolled your eyes, moving to grab a towel to start cleaning up the counter. “Alright, alright. Let’s fix this mess before the entire kitchen becomes unrecognizable.”
But as soon as you turned your back, you heard a quiet chuckle behind you. You didn’t even have time to react before you felt a light puff of flour hit the back of your head.
“Sab—what the—” you turned around, staring at her in shock, and she just stood there, holding a handful of flour, trying to suppress a laugh.
“Oops?” she said, grinning.
You narrowed your eyes at her, grabbing a small handful of flour from the counter. “Oh, it’s *on*.”
Before she could dodge, you tossed the flour in her direction, and Sabrina let out a laugh as it hit her squarely on her hoodie.
“Nooo!” she laughed, looking down at herself. “Okay, okay, I see how it is.”
Sabrina lunged forward, grabbing the bowl of batter and dipping her fingers in it. You saw her coming, but it was too late—she swiped a line of batter across your forehead, giggling like a kid.
“Now we’re even,” she teased, wiping her hands on the apron.
You wiped your forehead, staring at her with mock outrage. “Oh, you’re definitely getting it now.”
Before she could react, you grabbed the nearby whisk and flicked a little more batter in her direction. Sabrina dodged, laughing as she backed up toward the fridge. “Hey! I was just trying to help!”
“Uh-huh, sure you were,” you said, trying not to laugh as you chased her around the kitchen island.
Sabrina was laughing so hard, she almost tripped over the stool behind her. She held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I give up!”
You slowed down, grinning as you reached her, but instead of attacking her with more batter, you pulled her into a quick kiss, catching her off guard.
She blinked, looking at you with wide eyes before a slow smile spread across her face. “Now *that’s* what I call a truce.”
You laughed, wiping the batter off her nose. “You’re impossible.”
Sabrina wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “You love it,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
You shook your head with a playful sigh. “I really do.”
She leaned her forehead against yours, the both of you covered in flour and pancake batter, but neither of you seemed to care. It was moments like these that made everything feel lighter—like you could handle anything as long as you were together.
Sabrina’s voice softened as she looked into your eyes. “Okay, but for real, I think we need to, like, *actually* finish making breakfast. Otherwise, we’ll be eating raw batter for lunch.”
You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, that might be a good idea.”
She smiled, her thumb lightly brushing against your cheek where some flour had stuck. “But maybe we can leave the food fights for later?”
You grinned. “Deal.”
The two of you worked together to clean up the kitchen as best as you could—wiping down counters, scooping up stray bits of pancake batter, and trying to salvage what was left of the breakfast ingredients. Sabrina kept stealing glances at you, her eyes shining with amusement.
After a few minutes, you finally managed to get a fresh batch of pancakes going, and this time, there were no distractions—just the sound of the pancakes sizzling in the pan and the occasional shared glance between you and Sabrina.
As you finished plating the pancakes, Sabrina wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. “See? I told you we make a good team.”
You smiled, leaning back into her. “Even with the mess?”
She chuckled softly, her breath warm against your neck. “Especially with the mess.”
