If your f/o is an absolutely awful cook or baker, just utterly terrible at creating something even remotely edible... imagine them trying to make something, just for you.
Sure, it probably doesn't end well. The kitchen is filling with smoke, the countertops a dizzying disarray of half-filled bowls and scorch-crusted pans, and half the ingredients are miraculously raw whilst the rest are blackened coals... but even as they attempt to artlessly hide the evidence or nervously share their work with you, it's obvious that the effort was sincere.
Maybe in time, they try again. They keep practicing, working hard to follow recipes, set timers if they get distracted easily, make an effort to learn the fundamentals of cooking or baking, taking notes so that that they actually understand what went wrong and what to change for next time-
Maybe, just maybe, eventually that hard work pays off.
They make one of you're favourites. It's not perfect. It might not even be good, not yet. The sauce is too thick and doesn't have much flavour, or the texture is grittier than you'd expect, or they added too much citrus and it's left the whole thing a touch too sourโbut compared to what they made before, it's breathtaking. Everything has been assembled with care, dedication making itself known through every small detail on the plate in fromt of you.
This skill doesn't come to them naturally, they have made every effortโthey have struggledโto learn how to do it anyway, no matter how long it took or how difficult the process became. As you take a bite, think about the why behind it all, and look up to meet their bright, nervous, hopeful gaze...
You realise they did it for you. They want you to be able to eat your favourite things, whenever you want them.
Maybe you start practicing together, bonding over learning a new skill together and exchanging meals and sweet treats with one another. Maybe you thank them for their efforts in your own way, appreciating the things they make for you whilst remaining honest when there's room for improvement (they want you to be honest: they're hoping to make something you will truly love, after all).
Regardless, as their cooking or baking moves from inedible, to okay, to maybe even good, those first hundred times linger in your mind like a gentle whisper: the scent of smoke, a furrowed brow, murmuring as they flick through pages, newly-bought apron already heavy with stains... They create from a place of love, dedication slowly turning itself into craft.
