Sophie didn’t wait for him to respond.

Her fingers slipped back into his, warm and certain, and with a small, satisfied smile, she began pulling him along.

"Come on," she said, glancing back at him over her shoulder, her hair catching the low light as it shifted with the motion. "Before I change my mind and decide you don’t deserve to taste it."

Bruce allowed himself to be dragged, his steps unhurried, his gaze resting on her with quiet amusement.

"You wouldn’t do that."

Sophie’s smile widened slightly. "You sound very sure."

"I am."

She huffed softly, but didn’t argue, her grip tightening just a little as she led him through the doorway and into the kitchen.

The space was warm, softly lit, the kind of place that felt lived in rather than used. Familiar. Comfortable. The faint scent of herbs still lingered in the air from earlier, mingling with the quieter hush of the evening that had settled around the house.

Sophie released his hand and moved ahead, rolling her shoulders slightly as if preparing herself for something important.

"Alright," she said, turning to face him briefly, her eyes bright with quiet determination. "Observe carefully."

Bruce leaned lightly against the counter, arms folding loosely across his chest as his gaze followed her every movement.

"I always do."

Sophie ignored that.

Mostly.

She moved to the counter, reaching for the ingredients. A small container opened, revealing the eggs, larger than normal, faintly tinted with a subtle iridescent sheen that marked them as anything but ordinary.

"Wish Mutant bird eggs?" Bruce noted.

Sophie nodded. "Golden Vermilion Different from last time eggs, I discovered this one has a better texture. Richer taste. And they hold structure better when cooked."

Bruce’s brow lifted slightly. "You’ve been experimenting."

"Of course," she replied, glancing at him briefly. "I had to improve somehow."

She picked up one of the eggs, rolling it lightly between her fingers.

There was a small pause.

Bruce watched closely.

Sophie noticed.

"...Don’t stare like that," she said.

"You’re the one who told me to observe."

"That doesn’t mean you should make it intense."

Bruce’s lips curved faintly.

"I’m just watching."

Sophie huffed under her breath, then focused.

She tapped the egg lightly against the edge of the bowl.

A clean crack. Controlled. Precise.

The shell split neatly as she opened it, letting the contents slide smoothly into the bowl without a single fragment falling in.

Bruce nodded once.

"You’ve improved."

Sophie glanced at him, just for a second. "Obviously."

"I remember the first time," he added.

She paused.

"...Don’t."

"You used too much force."

"I said don’t."

"The egg exploded."

"It did not explode."

"There was shell everywhere."

Sophie turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "It was one time."

Bruce didn’t even try to hide the faint smile now. "You panicked."

"I adapted."

"You tried to fix it by cracking another egg."

Sophie crossed her arms briefly. "That was a logical response."

"You used even more force."

"...Bruce."

"And that one actually exploded."

She stared at him for a long moment.

Then turned back to the bowl with a quiet huff, but there was a smile she couldn’t quite suppress tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I’ve clearly improved," she muttered.

"You have," he agreed calmly.

She picked up another egg.

This time, her movements were smoother. More confident. The kind of ease that only came from having done something a hundred times in private until it felt like breathing.

Crack.

Clean. Perfect.

Bruce nodded again, slower this time.

Sophie noticed that too.

"...Say it properly."

"You’ve improved a lot."

She smiled faintly, satisfied, and began whisking the eggs. The motion was steady, rhythmic. Her wrist moved with practiced ease, the mixture blending smoothly into a soft, golden swirl.

Bruce pushed off the counter.

Stepped closer.

His hands found her waist. Light at first. Then settling, his palms warm through the fabric of her dress.

Sophie’s movement faltered for just a fraction of a second.

"...You’re distracting me."

"You said I should observe."

"This isn’t observing."

"It is."

His fingers traced lightly along her waist, slow, deliberate, following the curve of her with an idleness that was anything but accidental.

Sophie exhaled softly, trying to keep her focus as she continued whisking.

"You’re doing that on purpose."

"Maybe."

Her grip tightened slightly on the bowl.

"You’re proving my point."

"And what point is that?"

"That if you’ve really improved," Bruce said, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned just a little closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him along her back, "you should be able to cook perfectly... even with distractions."

Sophie swallowed.

Then straightened slightly, lifting her chin.

"Fine," she said. "Watch me."

She resumed whisking, more determined now. The motion became smoother again. Controlled. Deliberate.

Bruce watched.

Then leaned in just a bit more. Closer. Until his breath ghosted against the curve of her ear.

"Sophie."

Her hand paused for a fraction of a second.

"...What?"

His voice dropped lower. Right against her ear.

"You’re gripping it too tightly."

A faint shiver ran down her spine, soft and unbidden. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Her whisking stuttered.

"...I am not."

"You are."

"I’m not."

"You are."

Sophie exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the warmth that spread from where his voice had brushed against her, the heat that lingered along the side of her neck like a touch she couldn’t quite shake off.

"Stop talking."

"You’re losing rhythm."

"I am not losing rhythm."

"You just did."

"...Bruce."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, rumbling faintly against her back where his chest pressed close.

But he didn’t move away.

Instead, his fingers traced lightly again along her waist, slow and absent, as if he had all the time in the world. As if this, standing here, distracting her while she tried to cook, was exactly where he wanted to be.

Sophie tried to focus.

She really did.

The eggs were fully whisked now, pale gold and perfectly smooth. She reached for the pan, placing it on the heat with steady hands despite the way her pulse had quickened.

Butter melted quickly, the soft sizzle filling the space between them, curling into the air with a gentle, familiar warmth.

"See?" she said, trying to sound composed. "Perfect."