"Yes, I love it keep going."

Bruce's fingers traced lightly along her side. Slow. Familiar. Unhurried in the way only someone who already had her could be.

"That's good."

Sophie's whisking slowed for just a second as she tried to resist his caress playfully.

Bruce scoffed at her weak attempt, "That resistance is not convincing enough... Keep cooking while I do my thing..."

She huffed softly, but there was no real resistance in it. If anything, her body leaned a fraction closer to his, betraying her before her words could.

"You're supposed to be observing."

"I am."

"This is not observing."

"It is."

She shook her head faintly, but didn't push him away. Instead, she leaned back just slightly into him as she continued whisking, letting her shoulders rest against his chest, letting the warmth of him settle along her back.

The motion steadied again.

"You're impossible," she murmured.

"And you're still cooking perfectly."

"…That's because I've improved."

Bruce's lips curved faintly, close enough to her temple that she could almost feel it.

"I noticed."

The pan heated again. Butter melted, the soft hiss rising into the air between them. The familiar sizzle returned, warm, domestic, entirely theirs.

Sophie poured the mixture in, more relaxed this time, her earlier focus blending with something lighter. Something easier. Something that felt less like proving a point and more like simply sharing the moment with him.

Bruce rested his chin lightly near her shoulder, close enough to feel, not enough to interfere. His arms had slipped more fully around her waist now, loose but steady, his palms warm against the curve of her.

"Don't burn it," he said quietly, his voice close to her ear.

"I won't."

"You're distracted."

"I'm not."

"You leaned into me."

"That doesn't mean I'm distracted." She lied through her teeth...

Bruce chuckled softly, the sound low and warm against her shoulder, vibrating faintly where his chest pressed along her back.

The sound lingered between them as the omelette cooked perfectly once again, golden at the edges, soft in the middle, turned and folded with hands that no longer needed to think about what they were doing.

The soft sizzle filled the space between them again, quieter now, almost rhythmic, the gentle hush of butter and egg meeting heat, folding itself into the hum of the formations in the walls.

Sophie tilted the pan slightly, letting the mixture settle evenly, her movements fluid, unhurried. There was no tension left in her shoulders this time. No need to prove anything. No sharp focus born from nerves.

She was simply… cooking.

And he was simply there.

Bruce didn't move away. His presence lingered at her back, steady, familiar, his chin still resting lightly near her shoulder. Close enough that his breath brushed faintly against her skin with every slow exhale.

"You're hovering," Sophie murmured.

"I'm observing."

"You're breathing on me."

"Does that affect your cooking?"

Sophie paused for half a second.

"…No."

"Then it's not a problem."

She exhaled softly, trying and failing not to smile.

"You're very committed to this."

"You told me to judge properly."

"I didn't say anything about invading my space."

Bruce's hands shifted slightly on her waist, his palms warm through the fabric of her dress as he pulled her just a fraction closer.

"You didn't say I couldn't."

Sophie's grip tightened slightly on the pan handle.

"…You're doing that on purpose."

"Maybe."

She shook her head faintly, but didn't move away. Instead, she adjusted the heat with practiced ease, folding the omelette with a smooth, confident motion that no longer required her full attention, because some part of her had already surrendered it to him.

Bruce watched closely this time. No teasing. Just a quiet nod of approval.

There was a small pause.

Then

"But you're still tense."

"I am not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

Sophie turned her head slightly, just enough to give him a look from beneath her lashes.

"Do you want to cook it yourself?"

Bruce met her gaze calmly with a smile, "No."

"Then stop commenting."

"I'm helping."

"You're not helping."

"I am."

"You're distracting."

"That was the point." Bruce's smile was mischievous, and taunting, despite Sophie pretending to be annoyed she loved it when he's like this...

Sophie stared at him for a second longer.

Then She laughed. Soft. Warm. The kind that slipped out before she could stop it, low and genuine and entirely his.

"You're unbelievable."

Bruce's lips curved faintly, close to the line of her shoulder.

"And you're still doing perfectly."

"…I hate that you're right."

"I know."

She plated the second omelette with a little more flourish than necessary, setting it beside the first with a small, satisfied tilt of her chin.

Then turned slightly, folding her arms.

"Well?"

Bruce didn't immediately reach for it.

Instead, he looked at her. Really looked. His gaze lingering on her face in the warm kitchen light, catching the faint flush along her cheeks, the softness at the corner of her mouth.

Then

He reached out.

Not for the plate.

For her.

His fingers brushed lightly against her wrist, warm and deliberate, pulling her just a little closer again. His thumb traced a slow arc along the inside of her wrist, right where her pulse lived.

Sophie blinked.

"…You're not even pretending to behave anymore."

"I finished observing."

"So now?"

"Now I'm evaluating."

"That sounds suspicious."

"It's not."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, but didn't pull away. She couldn't have, really, not when his touch was that soft, not when his voice was that low.

"…Fine. Evaluate."

Bruce picked up a fork with his free hand, cutting into the second omelette without releasing her wrist. Another bite. Another pause. Another slow, deliberate chew that seemed designed entirely to make her wait.

Sophie watched him again. Even closer this time.

"You're staring again," he said.

"Yes."

"Still waiting?"

"Yes."

Bruce swallowed, then tilted his head slightly.

"This one is better."

Sophie blinked.

"…Better?"

"More balanced," he continued calmly. "You adjusted without thinking, maybe it's because of my caress."

"Hmph!" Sophie snorted softly...

But contrary to what one might expect, she leaned lightly against the counter, her shoulder brushing his, letting herself settle into the closeness.

"I didn't burn it," she added.

"You didn't."

"I didn't mess up the fold."

"You didn't."

"I didn't crack the eggs wrong."

Bruce looked at her.

Then, faintly

"You definitely improved."

Sophie smiled. Not wide. But real. The kind that reached all the way to her eyes and made her look, for a moment, almost shy.

She reached out, taking the fork from his hand without asking, her fingers brushing his in the exchange, and then took a bite herself.

A brief pause.

Then she nodded.

"Yeah… I did."