like he even dusts the front of his shirt

There’s flour everywhere. Jack’s not sure what magic Bitty works when he bakes alone, but with Jack at his side? It’s like the bag of flour exploded. It litters the counter and the floor, dusts Jack’s forearms and the front of his shirt, does its best to dull Bitty’s pinking cheeks.

It fails spectacularly on the last part, Bitty laughing long and hard and doubled-over as Jack blinks down at him. His own mouth quirks up at Bitty’s mirth, and even though the kitchen–and the two of them–are a mess and the pie is probably a loss, Jack can’t deny the feeling that fills him as he watches Bitty laugh.

He is home and he is happy and this? Is it.