hey gaymers

You weren’t usually temperamental—a sweetheart if anything. Your laughter was contagious, you wore a bright smile that lit up any room, and you always seemed to smell like whatever pastry you were recently baking.

It’s what drew Tucker to you when he saw you enter the door of your shared culinary elective back in sophomore year.

What made him stay, however, was his and your (respectively) shared love of cooking and baking. That culinary class, while only put in his schedule for more class hours, led to hours spent in between your dorm kitchen, the campus cooking building, and the occasionally peaceful kitchen of the infamous hockey house.

With some time warming up to each boy that lived there, their kitchen eventually became your kitchen every time Tucker invited you over. It became a routine: he’d cook over one half of the counters and the stove, you’d bake over the other half of the counters and the island.

Which brings around the same point as before: you weren’t usually temperamental; (usually!)

When Logan, Dean, Garrett and whoever else occupying the hockey house saw you in your zone, baking whatever sweet treat you were baking that day—usually with the promise of a sweet treat of their own—they knew to stay out of your way until you were done.

But there must’ve been some sort of full moon tonight with the way everyone seemed to take you and Tucker’s presence in the kitchen as an invitation to crowd the space.

It started with Allie.

“Whatcha makin’?”

You flinched as she suddenly appeared at your side with that peppy optimism she was known for.

“It’s uhm…its macrons. I’m pretty sure Chef will have us making it for the final and I can’t quite master it.”

You loved Allie, you really did. She matched your energy however you needed her to, she always found some sort of positive to whatever life threw you, and she just overall was a joy to be around.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

But as much as you loved Allie, you loved your kitchen space more.

“Well, not really…it’s more of a one-person task.”

“Are you sure,” she asked again, brows dipping down to accentuate her big brown eyes you hated saying no to. “I still owe you for helping me run lines for my midterm. It’s the least I can do, really.”

You hesitated.

“Well I guess you can help me with the filling…”

Unfortunately saying no to people was no in your lists of talents and hobbies.

“Yay,” she exclaimed, leaning against the top of the kitchen island. “What do I do?”

Then there was Logan and just like Allie, you loved Logan. However, as you got to know the boy, you came to realize that he had a bit of a one track mind. If he was faced with something to fix or get done, he’d considered it fixed and done before it was ever broken.

That included the leaky pipe just underneath the counter where both you and Tucker were crossing the most as the two of you worked in the kitchen.

Tucker was the first to say something about it, diverting his attention away from his own cooking.

“Uhh, isn’t there another time you could work on that man?”

His legs weren’t exactly sprawled out on the floor and you supposed that was a good thing, but it didn’t stop you from nearly tripping over his feet ever so often as you tried to navigate around him, Allie, and Tucker—two more people than your body was accustomed to.

“I just gotta tighten this pipe real quick and I’ll be out of your hair. I haven’t gotten around to it all week and Garrett’s been barking up my ass about it for ages.”

You heard Garrett before you saw him. “Well now you’re being over-dramatic.”

“You have been nagging at him for a hot minute babe.”

You could feel your blood pressure rising as Hannah stepped into the room with Garrett; something about their added presence made it feel like the room was only getting smaller and smaller.

Yet you continued to plaster a smile on your already strained and probably flour-powdered face.

“Ooo what are you guys making,” Hannah asked, sliding into one of the island chairs. “Smells amazing in here.”

You kept your mouth clamped shut in that moment, your brain working much too hard to even try to come up with something to say.

Tucker was the one to take notice of it.

“Well I’m making spicy salmon poke bowls for the house and they’re making macrons, right?”

You looked up finally, that same smile pressed against your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “For my culinary final.”

Hannah nodded before looking over Allie’s bowl and mixer in confusion. “I thought macrons were like, clusters of coconut shavings? What’s with the icing?”

“You’re thinking of macaroons,” Tucker, once again, answered for you. “Macrons are the little french sandwich pastries. Takes a lot of patience and concentration to make, if you get my drift.”

Hannah’s eyes widened a fraction before pretending to zip her mouth shut. “Oh, quiet, got it.”

The silence however, only really lingered with Hannah.

“Are we getting any macrons?”

Dean came in without announcement, rather popping up in the room and sliding up behind Allie to wrap his arms around his waist.

With his pointer finger, he dipped his hand into the batter and popped it in his mouth. “Tasty.”

You swear you could feel your under eye twitching like crazy. “Dean,” you snapped. “Please keep your hands out of the buttercream, please.”

“Yes chef!”

Typically you would have laugh or at least smiled, but at this point in time it felt like the throbbing on the right side of your brain was physically holding you back from any of those options.

Eventually all of the conversations in the room seemed to blend into one continuous flow of mind melting dialogue.

“That reminds me, have you ever seen the Bear? That’s kinda what you and Tucker are giving.”

“No way, they’re both too sweet to even start there. It’s more like Chopped for Kids.”

“You mean Chopped Junior.”

“Nah that’s the name of Dean’s future kid.”

“If Dean and Allie were to have kids, they would not be—,”

“Oh my god shut up!”

With a clatter, you dropped the spoon you held, raising your hands up in sheer frustration as the room finally went quiet.

“I’m gonna need everyone out of my kitchen!”

A beat of silence as wide eyes stared at you and the rarity that was your outburst.

Then Dean spoke up. “Your kitchen?”

An innocent question only meant to diffuse the air in the room that only seemed to rile you up even more.

“Yes! If you are not John freaking Tucker or you don’t have a culinary final due this Tuesday, get out of my kitchen.”

It didn’t take long, but before you knew it, the room dispersed and left no one but you and Tucker.

For the first time in what felt like ever, you could breathe.

You let out a deep sigh, and let yourself sink onto the counter top until your face was buried in your arms.

You didn’t even speak until you felt Tucker’s warm hand touch your back. “Was I too mean? I hate yelling. Especially at my friends.”

Peeking out from over your arms, you could see as Tucker pulled you up with a soft smile. “Not at all. People in this house suck at reading a room.”

A laugh—a real one—escaped you as he pulled you in by your belt loops. Even as he invaded all of your space, you suddenly felt as the room opened up from its claustrophobic form.

You smiled into the kiss as he let his palm cup your jaw. It was soft, sweet, and gentle—everything you needed after wanting to rip out your own hair just a few short moments ago.

“It was also kinda hot,” he mumbled against your lips. “I like it when you’re bossy.”

Your grin only grew as you kissed him, backing away from it. “Oh do you?”

His hum of approval vibrated softly under your palm where you placed it on his chest.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind for later then.”

He hummed happily, moving in to kiss you again. “I sure hope you do, sweetheart.”

@whothehellismack @sleepiscrazy