The Salvatore Boarding House was quiet for once. No Damon drama, no vampire threats, no town council meetings. Just you and Stefan. You hadn’t had a real night in with him in what felt like forever, and tonight, you decided it was going to be normal. Human. Cozy.

“Well,” you said, hopping up onto the marble counter in the kitchen with a grin, “you said you’ve lived through the Renaissance. Surely you know how to make a decent pizza.”

Stefan chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his gray henley, eyes sparkling as he glanced at you. “I know how to charm a woman in Italian and dance in a ballroom. Pizza… we’ll call it a modern challenge.”

You giggled, nudging a bowl of flour toward him. “Then let’s get messy.”

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a disaster. There was flour in your hair, sauce smudged on your cheek, and Stefan had somehow gotten cheese stuck to the elbow of his shirt.

“This is not how I thought vampire cooking would go,” you laughed, brushing your fingers against his jaw to wipe a bit of flour off. His eyes softened at the touch, and he leaned into your palm slightly.

“I never said I was a vampire chef,” he murmured. “But if this is what cooking with you looks like, I think I’ll start pretending I am.”

You smiled, letting your fingers trail down the side of his face before hopping off the counter. “Okay, Romeo. Let’s actually make the pizza this time. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said—but just as you turned around, he scooped a bit of flour and tossed it lightly at you.

You gasped, spinning back toward him. “Stefan Salvatore!”

He smirked, shrugging innocently. “Oops?”