You knew something was wrong the moment you stepped in the house. After one of your busiest days in a long time, back to back meetings from the moment you got to work. All you wanted was a quiet evening and a long, relaxing bath with your favorite scented salts. Instead, your house smells like…burnt tomatoes?

With a sigh, you drop your bag by the door and start opening the windows as you make your way through the house. When you reach the kitchen, the source of the chaos becomes painfully clear: Harry is cooking. Or, more accurately, he’s attempting to.

“Ah! There you are, darling!”, he greets you with a grin, clearly proud of himself, “I was wondering when you’d be home. I know today was stressful, so I thought I’d have dinner ready for you.” He gestures vaguely toward the stove “Let’s just say the recipe claimed this would take way less time than it actually does.”

He looks downright ridiculous. His apron is covered in what you assume was once homemade tomato sauce, and somehow, he has flour in his hair and smudged across his cheek. When he pulls you in for a ‘welcome home’ kiss, you get a mouthful of flour, too.

The kitchen is even worse. Diced vegetables litter the floor, and streaks of sauce and who knows what else decorate the counters, evidence of a failed attempt at cleaning a spill. Your eyes land on a bubbling brown substance in a pan on the stove, and your brows furrow in concern.

“Oh, that’s how it’s supposed to look,” Harry assures you quickly “The recipe mentioned something about sautéing, and I’m pretty sure this is sautéing. I mean, it looks sauté-ish, you know? Close enough.”

You can’t help but laugh. The kitchen looks like a scene from a disaster movie, but his intention and smile are so sweet.