Imagine food fights with Chris.
With the sun relentlessly beaming down on your face, you were quickly aroused from your sleep. You were expecting a bad hangover after the night you had, but you woke with only a minor headache and slight fatigue; it was thanks to Chris, he had forced an Advil down your throat before putting you to bed.
You yawned and rubbed your eyes, turning to reach for Chris only to find his side of the bed empty. You propped yourself on your elbows, attempting to peer into the ensuite from where you were. The door was wide open and you couldn’t hear any sounds, which could only mean that Chris was downstairs having breakfast or watching TV, or he and Dodger had gone for their morning run.
God, how he could go for a run or do anything physical after last night was beyond you.
It wasn’t until you reached for his pillow that you noticed the note sitting on top of it. You pinched it off the pillow and laid on your back, holding it in front of your face. Your vision was fuzzy because you had only just woken up, and because you weren’t wearing your glasses, but you could make out what he’d scrawled across the paper.
Good morning, my sweet,
Dodger and I went out to get some fresh fruit for breakfast, we’ll be back soon. The coffee’s on the pot so if you’d like to get out of bed to have some while you wait for us to return, you’re more than welcome to. I doubt you’ll even be awake before we get back but- better safe than sorry.
Your ever-loving husband,
You smiled and stretched before getting out of bed, taking your glasses with you as you headed to the bathroom to clean up. You caught yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, noticing that you were still wearing Chris’ white dress shirt from the night before; both of you had spent it at the Oscars and its after party, which was where you and possibly Chris- you couldn’t remember- got ridiculously drunk. You pressed your nose into your shoulder and smiled because the shirt still smelt like he did; of bergamot, vanilla, and sandalwood.
You made your way downstairs and headed for the kitchen. You could smell the coffee even before you turned the corner. On the table was your favorite mug; Chris had gotten it for you for Christmas, it was white with blue snowflakes. You spotted another note with his handwriting, you picked it up and giggled when you read it.
Here I was thinking you were just going to stay fast asleep until Dodger and I got home. :P The cream and sugar are where they always are. I know it’s not Starbucks quality but I hope you enjoy your coffee anyway. If you need another Advil, take it.
You heard noises coming from the front door, then Chris’ voice and Dodger’s scuttling feet across the hardwood floor. You smiled and leaned against the marble counter, sipping your coffee as you waited for them to come through the archway.
“Well well well,” Chris smiled at you. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He kissed you on the cheek then moved to unpack the groceries. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be awake, I sent Dodger upstairs to go get you.”
“I could tell from the notes you left me,” you chuckled and drew one from him as well. “I’m surprised you’re awake, to be honest. You drank a lot more than I did.” You reminded him, putting your cup down with a thunk.
“You forget I’m a Bostonian,” he chuckled. “We don’t get drunk and we don’t have hangovers. It’s in our genes,” he shrugged nonchalantly and you laughed. “You’re lucky I made you take that Advil last night, otherwise you wouldn’t be laughing right now.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” You hugged him from behind and kissed his shoulder blade. “What did you get?” You poked your head around him to peer at the bags that were filled with fresh fruit. “What are you going to make?”
“Pancakes,” he told you and you felt your smile widen. “These are just toppings. I even got…” He dragged out in a sing song voice, searching the bag for whatever he got. “Marshmallows!” He exclaimed excitedly, holding the bag of mini marshmallows in front of you.
“You’re such a kid,” you giggled.
“Gotta match my wife’s personality,” he teased then kissed the tip of your nose. “Shall we start?” He asked and you nodded. “Grab the mixing bowl and whisk, will you?” You nodded, doing as he asked. “Oh- and the milk and eggs from the fridge.” He instructed then padded over to the pantry to get the dry ingredients.
“Here you go,” you placed the needed items in front of him.
“Okay,” he clapped his hands together. “Let’s get pancaking. Hey-” he pointed at you and you raised an eyebrow. “No food fights,” he warned in a playful tone that meant the complete opposite of what he just said.
“Of course,” you nodded, biting back your smile.
Dodger joined the two of you in the kitchen just as you started mixing the batter. You had the job of pouring the ingredients in the bowl while Chris did the whisking of the mixture. You chatted about little things, laughing at events that had occurred the night before. You didn’t remember playing beer pong with Sebastian and Margarita until Chris reminded you; you and Chris were an unbeatable duo and Seb and Margo were absolutely smashed by the end of the game. You laughed, imagining how they must be feeling this morning.
“Hold it,” Chris stopped you and you narrowed your eyes in confusion. “You have something on your-” he dipped his pinky finger into the batter and poked it on the tip of your nose. “Nose,” he finished, biting back his smile.
“Wow,” you scoffed and chuckled at the same time. “Thank you, I didn’t notice it until just then. You know what though,” you dipped your hand into the bag of flour and grabbed a fistful of the white powder. “You have something-” you tossed it at him and he closed his eyes. “Oh, all over you face.” You said and pressed your lips together, laughing softly through your nose.
“Seriously?” His smile grew wider. “You wanna go big?” His hand dipped into the bag of flour and he tossed a handful in your face before you could dodge out of the way. “You have something all over your face as well.”
Dodger barked and drew both your and Chris’ attention onto him; the poor puppy was covered in flour too. You looked back at Chris and shook your head at him, “see what you did. Now he’s going to run all over the house and leave a trail of flour behind him.”
“Me?” He laughed. “You started the flour tossing, thank you very much. Look over there, look at all the flour behind you.” He pointed behind you and you turned. “Honestly, Y/N. It’s Sunday, I don’t want to spend the day cleaning the house.”
“There’s nothing-” You were met with another fistful of flour when you turned back to him. “Oh my God!” You laughed and he did the same, grabbing his left boob. “You’re such an asshole!” You slapped his arm.
“You look like a ghost,” he laughed louder.
“Well then you better match your wife,” you grabbed a fistful and tossed it at him. He dodged it with ease and snatched the bag away before you could grab another fistful. “Running scared, are we?” You challenged with a smug smile.
“Hey,” he held up the bag with one hand, “I’ve got the ammunition.”
“You’ve got no balls,” you placed your hands on your hips. “That’s why you’re cheating.”
He scoffed and shook his head. You watched as he slowly put the bag of flour down, the smirk on his face only meant trouble for you. You tried to make a run for it before he pounced, but you were too slow for the Super Soldier. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into his front, nuzzling his flour covered face into your neck. You shrieked with laughing, hunching in his grip.
“Stop!” You laughed.
“Let’s call a truce so we can have breakfast.”
“Okay okay!” You cried out, choking on your laughter. “Truce!”
The two of you focused on cooking the pancakes without anymore flour tosses, and it took about ten minutes but you finally had a plateful of deliciously fluffy pancakes. You sat on the cold marble bench top, swinging your legs back and forth as Chris cut up a pancake doused in maple syrup.
“You are absolutely filthy,” he chuckled as he fed you. “How is it?” He asked, before taking a bite himself.
“Fantastic,” you smiled then dipped your finger in the bowl of maple syrup. “Cut me another piece please.” You asked and he did; when he looked up from the plate, you touched the tip of his nose with the sticky syrup. “Who’s filthy now?” You asked with a smug smile.
“I don’t know…” He dipped his hand into the maple syrup and wiped it onto your cheek. “You?”
“Chris!” You laughed. “You’re going to pay for this.” You jumped off the bench and took a handful of icing sugar and threw it at his face. Your jaw dropped when you saw him dipped his hand into the Nutella jar, smirking. “Don’t you dare,” you told him and slowly backed away.
You tried to make a run for it but he caught your waist with one arm and smeared the Nutella on your face and into your hair. You screamed and laughed and squirmed in his arms. He laughed and held onto you tightly as he dragged you back to the table to add a touch of icing sugar on you.
“You’re looking absolutely delicious,” he chuckled and planted a kiss on your cheek.
“I’m going to have a lot of trouble trying to get all this mucky stuff out of my hair,” you pouted.
“I will be more than happy to help,” he whispered into your ear with a cheeky, flirtatious tone.
You turned around in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling. You walked him back until he was half sat on the bench, you could tell from the smirk on his face that he was expecting something other than what you had planned. You leaned in inches away from his lips, it was a distraction so you could reach for the open jar of peanut butter and dip your hand into it. Just as he was about to kiss you, you scooped out a big dollop of peanut butter and smeared it into his hair. He made a face and groaned, pretending to be annoyed with you.
“I think you’re going to be way to busy with your own hair,” you giggled, biting your lower lip.
“Alright, alright.” He chuckled. “Let’s call it a truce and eat ‘cause as fun as this is, I’m starving.”
“Okay,” you nodded, smiling.
You and Chris continued eating breakfast with maple syrup, peanut butter, Nutella, flour, and icing sugar, on your clothes, in your hair and all over your faces. As a materialistic actress, you would usually mind being covered in anything other than Chanel but it was different with Chris, you could be covered in mud and be comfortably okay.
“I’m going to go have a shower,” you said and hopped off the island bench top. He nodded and followed behind you as you headed for the stairs. You chuckled and turned around, stopping him with my hand. “Alone, Captain.”
“Aw…” he pouted.
“But you can go have a shower with the kitchen,” you chuckled. “It is dirtier than I am and I’m sure it’ll appreciate the help in cleaning it up. So…Chop chop,” you clapped your hands in his face and he chuckled.
“Are you really going to make me clean up alone?”
“Well…You did start the food fight,” I winced. “It’s only fair that the one who started it, ends it.”
“I don’t want to clean up by myself…” He whined and you pouted, giving him your best puppy dog eyes; his weakness. “Fine, I’ll clean up.” He grumbled and you smiled. “You go have your shower. Time limit of half an hour, please. I too would like to get all this muck off me.”
“Thank you, baby,” you smiled and pecked him on the lips before skipping out of the kitchen.