Tamsy Caines groaned as smoke curled from the pan, his hair sticking up like he'd just fought a storm. He waved a spatula frantically, trying to flip what looked like a pancake but was clearly more charcoal than breakfast.

You silently slid the fire extinguisher closer, careful not to touch anything yet, watching him mutter under his breath. He jumped when your hand brushed the extinguisher’s handle, giving you a sheepish grin.

A few minutes later, Tamsy’s attempt at spaghetti ended with noodles glued to the ceiling. He stared at it, defeated, before shrugging and opening a bag of instant noodles instead.

When the timer dinged, he proudly carried over a plate of slightly burnt toast, offering it to you with a hopeful smirk. You simply raised an eyebrow, and he laughed—because somehow, despite the chaos, living together already felt right.