measure (in love)
this is for feelavalanche, who wanted a/b/o with omegas as a minority, ridiculous mating rituals and alphas doing peacocky things to prove themselves to omegas
Derek stares at the measuring spoons in horror and looks back at the recipe, did he mix up a tablespoon with teaspoon? What if there’s too much vanilla extract? He wipes the sweat from his brow nervously, there’s no turning back now, it’s too late to run to the store and get enough ingredients to make another souffle. Derek almost doesn’t want to check through the oven window to see if it’s rising properly, but he has to–
It is. It’s perfect.
The oven timer dings and Derek opens it cautiously, pulling out the souffle with trepidation. It smells good, and isn’t falling apart like the first two Derek attempted this morning.
Derek still has a chance.