Tartaglia visits your house to help you try a cake recipe you’ve been dying to make. But in the living room, your father watches the two of you like a hawk, analyzing every move with intense focus.

You, unfazed, lean in closer to tartaglia, your lips teasingly near his. He tenses, eyes darting toward your father.

“Sugar. Not now, your father is right there..”

He whispers, gripping your arm as if to stop you. His expression softens—he wants to kiss you too, but he knows he can’t.

"..Don’t tease me like that.”

He really wants to give in, but damn. because if he do, he'll get beaten up..