It had been a busy few months for Lando — streams almost every evening, editing sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning, and a diet that had slowly devolved into takeout boxes stacked by the kitchen sink. His boyfriend had only ever appeared on stream in passing — a quick hello before heading out to work, a plate of home-cooked food appearing beside Lando mid-game, or a tired goodnight kiss as the chat spammed heart emojis.

But this time was different.

Today, Lando had decided to do something bold, something that most of his friends (and probably his boyfriend too) would call a terrible idea. A cooking stream. Not just any cooking stream, but one where he’d be making dinner from scratch… live… with zero practice. The only thing saving him from complete disaster was the fact that his boyfriend (who could actually cook without setting off the smoke alarm) would be joining him in the kitchen.

The camera was set up on the counter, capturing the wide view of the space: cutting boards lined up side by side, ingredients scattered in some kind of organized chaos, the soft hum of the fridge in the background. Two aprons hung off the back of the kitchen stools — Lando’s, predictably, was slightly crumpled and looked like it had been pulled out of a drawer minutes ago. His boyfriend’s was neatly tied, already dusted with a bit of flour from prepping ingredients earlier.

The chat was already buzzing:

oh no this is gonna be chaos i give it 10 minutes before he cuts himself chef bf to the rescue WHO ALLOWED HIM NEAR A STOVE 😭😭😭 💕💕💕💕💕

Lando stepped into frame, flashing the camera a grin as though this was all perfectly under control, sleeves rolled up like he was ready to compete on a cooking show. “Alright, so… chat,” he said, picking up an onion with an air of exaggerated confidence, “step one is… cutting this thing, right?” He glanced sideways at his boyfriend, already laughing under his breath.

he’s gonna cry from the onions in 3…2…1… do NOT let him hold a knife unsupervised 😥 look at them matching aprons omg

“Okay,” Lando muttered, grabbing a knife and immediately holding it at the wrong angle. His boyfriend reached over without a word, adjusting his grip like it was second nature, and Lando grinned sheepishly at the camera. “See? He’s here to keep me alive. Otherwise we’d be ordering takeout by now.”

The sunlight poured through the kitchen window, catching in the soft curls of Lando’s hair, the smell of chopped herbs already hanging in the air from his boyfriend’s prep work. The counter was crowded with bowls of diced vegetables, spices lined up neatly in a row — and one very determined, slightly clueless Lando in the middle of it all.