#cg!street 🏷️

[realtaisanspeir]

ೃ༄ sweet intentions ˚◞♡ ⃗

caregiver!street x little!reader

— after imparting his love of cooking shows onto you, street tries to bring to life the sweet treats you both spend so much time watching be made.

The sugary sweet smells of vanilla and cinnamon fills the air against a backdrop of relative bedlam. An old episode of Bake Off plays in the background and is frequently interspersed by the whir of the mixer and Street’s huffs of irritation.

It’s the third time tonight that the mixing tool has come off the machine, and little lines of frustration form between his furrowed brows as he tries to manhandle it back in.

The fact that the tool and the bowl itself are covered in sticky pink frosting is not helping the fact, even if the sight of your icing-smeared face popping into view over the countertop does make him smile.

“Y’okay?” You ask brightly as you lean forward on crossed arms. The bright yellow apron you’re wearing, at his insistence, is absolutely covered with a combination of cake batter and icing sugar that matches that of the countertops - and very accurately depicts the struggle you’ve had in getting the tin of cake batter into the oven successfully.

Street nods briefly, before loosing his grip on the tool and sending it disappearing back into the bowl of frosting. He swears internally - knowing better than to do it out loud, in front of you - before setting the bowl back down on the countertop, as his desire to throw it out the kitchen window is growing very real.

“Fine, sweetie.” He assures you, softening up his expression a little at the sight of your beaming face and fidgeting hands. “I mean, I will be once i fix this damn thing.”

You nod. Pottering around the counter from where you’d been messing with the awaiting piping tips, you lean up and press a sticky kiss to his cheek with a contented smile.

“You will.” You tell him, with just the same note of reassurance that he’d spoken to you with. It’s an admirable level of faith to have in a man who regularly assembles tactical gear in the blink of an eye but who gets frustrated to the point of tears over a KitchenAid, but it warms his heart.

“Thank you, honey.” He says through a smile, kissing your forehead sweetly as he swipes his hands of his fruitless efforts before nodding down to the oven. “Now help me check on the cake- there’s no way we’re leaving all this work go to waste.”