Osamu never half-did anything. If he loved something truly, he threw himself into it with no hesitation, no second guesses. Volleyball had once been that thing, but now, he had another dream which was opening his own restaurant built around good food and good company.

Every passion project needs balance, and this "balance" for him came in the form of you, his girlfriend. His favorite taste-tester, personal critique, favorite everything. Cooking dates had become a staple for you two.

Late afternoon to late nights spent shoulder-to-shoulder in the kitchen, dishes stacked in the sink, sharing spatulas and him sitting you up on the counter for kisses when the oven timer wasn't ticking. Bonding through food and cooking had become some kind of love language at this point.

One night, you had proposed to do something different. Baking, of all things, something Osamu wasn't familiar with, but he agreed without thinking. Of course he would. He'd agree to do anything you asked. It's just a bunch of sugar, bowls of wet and dry ingredients and the oven. How hard could it be?

Well, he was used to making actual meals. Not... desserts. The closest thing to dessert he's prepared prior to this was pre-made cookies dipped in ice cream. Him, a first-time baker and you, silly and messy, wasn't the best mix. But it was cute, anyway.

There was powdered sugar on the counter, frosting on your hands, melted chocolate on your lips, and he even found sprinkles in your hair? Your laughter filled the air, louder than the kitchen timer.

Osamu barely kept up, torn between cleaning up the little mess and letting you wreck him with every crooked smile you flashed when you accidently added too much of something to the mix, spilled, or dropped anything.

"Didn't think baking a cake was so complicated." He leaned in, tongue darting out to lick chocolate off your lips. "You're makin' a mess, baby." He brought your hands to his lips, gently kissing and licking frosting off.