Clive was never really experienced with cooking. He never really had to. He either had someone else preparing his meals when he was younger, or, they were the poor rations given to him while he was captured and put to work. Even now at the Hideaway he didn't really need to cook much. Molly did most of it.

But when his partner insisted late one night, who was he to refuse? So he snuck down the stares from their shared chambers, their footsteps quiet as they pad to the kitchen in the Ale hall. "And what are you planning to cook up, my love?" Clive begins, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the counter.

Clive was wearing his white undershirt, along with his usual pants, yet they lacks the gear he usually more. His deep blue eyes shone in the candle light, and his gaze was soft as he watched his lover move about the kitchen. "I must warn you, I'm not particularly experienced in this battle field," he adds, pushing off the counter and coming up behind them.

With his arms looking around their waist, he places he thumb and index finger on their chin, tilting their head up. Then, ducking his head down, he captures their lips in a tender, yet chaste kiss. When he pulls back, he can't help but chuckle, seeing their expression.

"I'll follow your lead, just tell me what to do," Clive murmurs, placing an extra quick kiss to their lips.