Humming whilst checking the oven’s temperature, Matthias rolled his shoulders. The pink apron Tino had given him suited him remarkably well, as did the large blue and white striped oven clothes from Berwald, both of these not matching his Danish flag boxers at all. The Danishes in the glowing heat were slowly turning golden, but seeing as they weren’t ready yet he was prepping the next batch to go in.
Ruffled hair and clad in crumpled pyjamas, you leant on the doorframe and wondered silently what on Earth had possessed your lover to make pastries so early in the morning, rather than staying in bed with you. It was your Sunday ritual after all, and you felt a little hurt he’d disregarded it this week. Padding barefoot on the tiles, you made your way to him stealthily so that he, being so engrossed in the pastry-preparing, didn’t hear you. Once you were standing behind him, you quickly placed both your hands on the counter on either side of him to effectively cage him in.
“Think you can just run off without facing the consequences?” you growled, your voice dangerously low. Matthias set down the egg-coated pastry brush with a grin and turned a half-circle in your arms, his smile widening when he saw your dishevelled state and attempted pout. “God morgen, dear wife of mine!” he called, his arms shooting under your outstretched arms and winding around you firmly. Once in place, he lifted you and, chest to chest, he spun you in a wide circle. You shrieked in surprise, your angry façade fading.
“And no, I didn’t think I’d get away from the consequences,” Matthias grinned deviously, setting you on your feet and nuzzling the crook of your neck. “But I thought since you do really, kind of, totally love these Danishes of mine, I kind of presumed you’d let me off the hook.” You raised your eyebrow and tugged his head down by the ears. “Well, I’m not admitting that you’re right, but for just this once,” you wagged your finger at him, “I’ll let you off, just this once.” You repeated in warning, trying to look stern.
Smiling widely, he pecked your lips; not really paying heed to your warning. A blush spread fluidly across your cheeks, easy as butter over freshly toasted bread. He continued those tender, repetitive kisses, his hands kneading your hips and keeping you against his chest. Just as he was about to deepen the kisses, his head already tilting in preparation, the oven timer went off. Breaking away from you excitedly, he turned to the oven. You sighed and rolled your eyes, ‘tsk’-ing once and folding your arms across your chest.
Matthias noticed this and smiled, putting down the red-hot tray and embracing you. “Hey now, you know you’re more important to me than anything, kæreste.”
That self-important jerk, you knew for certain that he was relishing the feeling of your cheeks heating up.