Fragments of Us

Us

The kitchen smelled like vanilla and melted butter, warm and inviting. Milo stood at the counter, arms crossed, staring down at the bowl of dough with a look of deep suspicion. Atlas, effortlessly at ease, was beside him, sleeves rolled up, guiding him through the process. Meanwhile, their golden retriever, Toast, sat attentively by Milo’s feet, clearly hoping for a taste, while their cat, Luna, perched on the windowsill, watching the scene with judgmental amusement.

   “This feels illegal,” Milo muttered, poking the dough like it might fight back.

Atlas snorted. “It’s cookie dough, not a crime scene. Just mix it.”

Milo exhaled dramatically. “You say that like I won’t mess this up.”

Atlas grinned, stepping behind him and wrapping his arms around Milo’s waist, his hands sliding over Milo’s to guide the movement. “You won’t mess it up. I’ve got you.”

Milo huffed but leaned back slightly. “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to watch me burn down the kitchen.”

   “Maybe,” Atlas admitted, kissing his temple. “But also because I want to make sure you actually learn something. Imagine—our kitchen filled with the scent of your own homemade cookies.”

Milo made a face. “Or we could just maintain the system where you do the baking, and I do the eating.”

Atlas shook his head with a chuckle. “Nope. Not today. Today, you’re making cookies.”

As Milo mixed the dough with exaggerated effort, Toast let out a small whine, tail wagging. Atlas looked down and chuckled. “I think Toast believes he’s helping.”

Milo reached down, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “He’s a great moral support.”

Luna flicked her tail from her windowsill perch. Atlas glanced up at her. “And you’re here for, what? Supervising?”

The cat blinked slowly, unimpressed, as if to say Obviously. Then, as if proving a point, she stretched luxuriously and hopped onto the counter.

Milo gasped. “Luna, no! You’re not allowed on the counter.” He tried to shoo her away, but Luna simply stared at him, unbothered, and sat down like she owned the place.

Atlas smirked. “She does what she wants. You should know that by now.”

Milo scowled at the cat, who blinked at him in slow, smug victory. “One day, I’m going to win against you.”

Luna flicked her tail, clearly doubting it.

After a few more sarcastic complaints—mostly about why anyone would ever willingly do this—Milo finally scooped the dough onto a baking sheet. Toast perked up, hopeful, but Atlas shot him a look. “Don’t even think about it.”

Toast flopped dramatically onto the floor, letting out a defeated sigh. Milo chuckled, giving him a belly rub. “It’s okay, buddy. I suffer in this kitchen, too.”

As Atlas slid the tray into the oven, Milo dusted flour off his hands and leaned against the counter. “I still don’t see why this is necessary. You’re the baking genius.”

Atlas turned, smirking. “Because one day, I might be sick, or stuck at work, and you’ll have to fend for yourself. What if you crave my cookies and I’m not around?”

Milo narrowed his eyes. “Then I’ll wait for you. Like a reasonable person.”

Atlas rolled his eyes, grabbing a bit of leftover dough and booping it onto Milo’s nose. “You’re impossible.”

Milo wiped it off with a playful scowl. “And yet, you married me.”

Atlas grinned, leaning in close. “No take-backs.”

Milo sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But if these cookies turn out bad, I’m blaming you.”

   “They won’t,” Atlas murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Milo’s lips. “Because we made them together.”

The oven beeped, and Atlas turned to pull out the tray, golden-brown cookies filling the kitchen with their warm scent. He handed one to Milo, who hesitated before taking a bite.

   “…Okay,” Milo admitted after a moment. “Not bad.”

Atlas laughed, bumping their shoulders together. “See? Told you.”

As they stood there, sharing cookies in the quiet warmth of their home, Toast settled at their feet, and Luna curled up on the windowsill, purring in satisfaction. Their house wasn’t just a house—it was a home, filled with laughter, love, and just the right amount of chaos.

Milo sighed, taking another bite. “I guess I can get used to this.”

Atlas smirked. “That’s the plan.”

And as the night wrapped around them, cozy and familiar, Milo knew—this was their forever. And he really, really wouldn’t have it any other way.