Baking was always a sort of a sore spot in Dallas' defenses. Whether it be some freshly baked cupcakes or brownies, it was always a way to calm his nerves.

So, when you offered him a treat he hadn't tried before, a macaron, he knew he was hooked.

".. Are they supposed to puff up like that? That look brittle as hell."

He muttered from over your shoulder, his chin resting on your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your stomach, reaching one of his hands over to try and poke at the pastry.