Liam: "Y/N, can you come here?" You heard Liam shout through the house as you walked through the front door. When you stepped into the kitchen you were amazed at the amount of damage he’d been able to inflict on the dinner he was making. “Oh my God, Li. What have you done?" On the stovetop, there was a blackened, bubbling, pan of goo and the rest of the kitchen was covered in what appeared to be his attempts to find something more appetizing to make. “Okay, I can see you need my help, right? So move over and get rid of that somehow." You wrinkled your nose at the goo that was now giving off a smell like a skunk. Once he’d thrown the entire thing into a bin outside, he came back in, kissed your cheek, and began helping you prepare a new meal.
Niall: When the two of you were in the kitchen together, it was always a mess. You were actually never good at cooking but once you met him you had improved in at least the areas of food that he liked the most. Thus, he would always interrupt your cooking to sample bits and pieces. Some days he would try to join you with cooking, but that normally turned into a disaster as well because you would get in each other’s ways and it would turn into an argument which would turn into a food fight, which would turn into cleaning the kitchen up for two hours, but being back to normal.
Louis: In the mornings when he wasn’t on tour and he had the day off, you two would actually not sleep in late, you would wake up early with the sun and wander to the kitchen. Depending on who woke up first, there would either be pancakes or bacon on the stove. One morning you were awake first, making a large breakfast of both bacon and pancakes when you felt his arms wrap tightly around your waist, his stubble-covered chin scratching against your shoulder. “Morning, love. It smells delicious this morning." He started kissing your neck and shoulder before moving away, leaving your body cold, but he began helping with the meal. While you both cooked, he told you the story of his dream from the night before where he’d been chased by a giant banana out onto stage where he was naked and he didn’t know any of the words, but in the end everything was okay because you came out on stage and gave him so pants and a giant banana split was rolled out onstage.
Zayn: To be honest the two of you hardly ever baked in the kitchen. Mostly you ordered in or went out for dinner. But one night you were desperately craving chocolate chip cookies. Zayn offered to help you make them from scratch since it was already one o’clock in the morning and neither of you felt like going out to get some already made ones or even the ones that you just pop in the oven. So began that long arduous process of making the dough, adding just the right amount of chocolate chips, and then putting them on the cookie sheet. By that time, Zayn who’d been all gung-ho about it earlier, was falling asleep at the table, not even the delectable scent that started wafting around the kitchen could keep him awake. And you found yourself sitting beside him, waiting and waiting until your eyes drifted shut as well. Of course, neither of you woke up until the smell of burning cookies set off the fire alarm. Once Zayn got it to stop making such a terrible noise and had pulled the sheet out, he sighed. “I’m sorry, babe. They’re gone." You nodded sadly. “I guess we’ll just have to eat the rest of the chocolate chips then." He grabbed the bag and fed a few to you, letting them melt in your mouth before he kissed you.
Harry: Baking, cooking, blending, slicing, dicing, whatever you do in the kitchen, none of it was ever your forte. Harry on the other hand was a little bit of a master chef when he put effort into it. One day you were trying your very best to listen to his instructions as he attempted to once again teach you how to cook, but as every other time he’d done this, you were failing. “No, Y/N! Not like that!" He groaned. In your frustration, you slammed the knife that you were trying to slice with, but you were also very clumsy, so you ended up nicking your finger. Pain shot away from the burning cut and you shrieked, bringing the finger up towards your mouth. But then you saw all of the blood. “Harry! Harry Harry Harry! Help me!" You started crying, holding your finger out towards him. He swore quietly, reaching for a clean towel nearby and wrapping it around your finger. “I’m sorry, babe." He kissed your lips and then checked on your finger. “It looks deep, I think you’ll need stitches. Maybe this is a sign that I should stop trying to teach you how to cook." He laughed, a crooked smile appearing on his face. “You think?" You groaned, clutching your finger through the towel as he hurried you out to the car.
