Rafe Cameron Imagines

Kitchen Catastrophe🤍

It was Sunday morning, and Rafe woke up to the smell of... was that smoke? He bolted upright, heart pounding, as he heard clanging and muffled sounds coming from the kitchen.

"Babe?" he called, pushing back the covers and heading down the hallway.

When he walked into the kitchen, he had to stop himself from laughing. You were standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan with an overly determined expression. Flour was smeared on your cheek, there was a suspicious-looking pancake half-stuck to the ceiling, and a sticky mess covered the counter. Clearly, things had taken a turn.

You noticed him and gave a sheepish smile. "Good morning! I, uh, was making breakfast..."

Rafe crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Looks more like a science experiment gone wrong."

You pouted, wiping some flour off your hands. "Hey, I wanted to surprise you! It's not that bad."

He bit back a grin, walking over to inspect the situation. "There's pancake batter on the ceiling."

You looked up, grimacing. "Okay, that was an accident. The spatula slipped."

"Uh-huh." He leaned in, catching the smudge of flour on your cheek with his thumb. "And this?"

You rolled your eyes, smacking his hand away lightly. "Are you gonna help or just tease me?"

He laughed, grabbing an apron and tying it around his waist. "Alright, let's see what we can salvage."

Together, you started over, with Rafe guiding you through each step. He patiently showed you how to flip the pancake, making sure it didn't end up on the ceiling this time, and helped measure the ingredients properly so they didn't overflow. You watched him intently, determined to get it right, though you couldn't resist playfully poking his side every now and then to make him laugh.

At one point, as you were pouring syrup over a stack of pancakes, he leaned against the counter, watching you with an amused smile.

"What?" you asked, catching his look.

"Nothing. Just admiring your... dedication," he said, clearly fighting back laughter.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. "If you think you're so great, maybe you should be the one in charge of breakfast every Sunday."

He shook his head. "Nah, watching you try is way too entertaining."

Finally, you both sat down to eat, and Rafe couldn't deny the pancakes turned out pretty good—with his help, of course. He smirked as you took a big bite, clearly proud of your handiwork.

"See? I told you I could do it," you said triumphantly.

"Yeah, after you nearly set the kitchen on fire," he teased, reaching over to steal a bite from your plate.

You narrowed your eyes, a mischievous smile forming. "Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

Before he could respond, you picked up a glob of whipped cream and dabbed it right on his nose. He blinked, momentarily stunned, then grinned, chasing you around the table as you shrieked with laughter.

When he finally caught you, his arms wrapped around you from behind, he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, laughing with you as you tried to catch your breath.

"Next time, let's stick to cereal," he murmured, wiping off the whipped cream and kissing your forehead.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. "Deal. As long as you're right here with me."

And as you both sat back down to finish breakfast, the mess around you didn't matter—because, to Rafe, mornings like these were worth every bit of chaos.