The kitchen smelled like trouble before Andrew even stepped into it. He had been reading on the sofa, enjoying the rare silence in Tina's tornado of a mansion, when the sound of pots clanging and a very suspicious humming reached his ears. Not just any humming. Tina humming. Which meant disaster.
"Tina."
He called, his voice carrying a warning tone.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing!"
Came the suspiciously bright reply. Andrew sighed, dropped his book, and padded to the kitchen. The moment he stepped inside, his jaw slackened. Tina stood at the counter in one of Elijah's aprons—an apron that looked like it was ready to resign from sheer humiliation. Her cheeks and nose were dusted white with flour, her long hair tied in a lopsided ponytail. And the counter? It looked like a flour bomb had gone off, spilling across the marble and cascading down to the floor. Bowls cluttered the space. Sugar crystals sparkled on the surface like misplaced diamonds, a bag of chocolate chips lay overturned, and Neko Neko sat proudly on the bar stool, a whisk in his tiny paws as though he were the sous chef. Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."
Tina beamed at him, holding up a bowl of uneven dough with a grin that could only be described as illegal levels of chaos.
"I'm making cookies!"
She announced.
"No."
Andrew deadpanned.
"You're making a mess."
Her bottom lip jutted out.
"Don't be mean. These are for you."
That one sentence made his carefully constructed irritation wobble. For him? Andrew crossed his arms and tried to stay composed.
"Cookies don't look like…"
He gestured vaguely at the crime scene on the counter.
"...that."
"They will!"
Tina huffed, thrusting her spoon into the dough with more force than necessary.
"Mama said if I want someone to like me more, I should bake them something sweet."
Andrew blinked. His heart stuttered. Did she just—?
"Wait."
He narrowed his eyes.
"This isn't about me, is it?"
"Maybe."
She said far too quickly. Andrew rubbed his face. He remembered their first morning together all too clearly—the morning she'd tossed her little bombshell of a confession: I already fell for you. Now I'm gonna make you fall for me. At the time, he'd laughed it off, thinking she was just being Tina—dramatic, chaotic, and half serious at best. But seeing her now, covered in flour and genuinely focused on stirring lumpy dough… he wasn't so sure.
"Unbelievable."
He muttered.
"Unbelievably sweet?"
She asked with a wink.
"Unbelievably ridiculous."
He corrected, but his lips twitched despite himself. Tina giggled and shoved a spoonful of dough toward his mouth.
"Try it."
Andrew jerked back.
"No way! It's raw!"
"It's safe!"
She insisted.
"I didn't put eggs in it yet. It's just sugar and butter and flour and—oops."
Her eyes widened as the spoon tilted, and a glob of dough plopped right onto his shirt. Andrew stared at the stain. Tina stared at him. Neko Neko squeaked like the audience to a sitcom. Andrew exhaled slowly.
"Tina."
"Yes?"
"I should scold you."
"You always scold me."
"Because you always deserve it."
She puffed her cheeks again, then suddenly broke into laughter, clutching her stomach as if this was the funniest moment in the world.
"You look so serious, Andrew! Like the dough personally offended you!"
"It did."
He said flatly, peeling it off his shirt.
"It attacked me."
Tina, still giggling, leaned closer.
"Then I'll protect you from the evil dough, fiancé."
Andrew's ears went hot. He didn't know if it was from embarrassment, irritation, or the fact that Tina could throw out the word 'fiancé' so casually while his heart tripped over itself every single time.
"Just—focus on not burning down the kitchen."
He muttered.
"Yes, chef!"
She chirped, saluting him with the spatula. Andrew groaned. He was going to need aspirin. Tina's 'method' of baking could only be described as… unholy. She dumped flour like she was trying to summon a snowstorm. Sugar went in by the handful, not the cup. And when she finally grabbed the chocolate chips, she poured in the entire bag with the solemn declaration.
"Chocolate chips are happiness. More is better."
Andrew, standing beside her with arms crossed, raised an eyebrow.
"At this rate, you're making chocolate-chip cookies with a side of dough, not the other way around."
"Exactly!"
She beamed. Neko Neko squeaked in agreement, his tiny paws patting the counter as if cheering her on. Andrew groaned.
"I can't believe I'm watching this."
"Not anymore."
Tina corrected, thrusting a bowl toward him.
"You're helping. Here—mix this!"
"I'm not mixing—"
"Mix!"
Andrew caught the bowl before it fell, staring down at the half-blended chaos inside. He grabbed the whisk reluctantly and started to stir, grumbling under his breath.
"This isn't mixing."
He muttered.
"This is wrestling."
"See?"
Tina chirped, proudly wiping flour off her cheek with the back of her hand—only to smear it across her face even more.
"Teamwork makes the dough work."
Andrew shot her a look.
"Don't ever say that again."
She giggled, and the sound made something inside his chest loosen despite himself. The oven beeped, startling both of them. Tina gasped dramatically, rushing to preheat it with the enthusiasm of someone discovering fire for the first time.
"Okay!"
She clapped her hands together.
"Cookies are almost ready to be born!"
"Cookies are not babies."
Andrew said.
"They're my babies."
Tina insisted.
"And you're their cranky uncle."
Before Andrew could argue, Tina scooped spoonfuls of lumpy dough onto the baking tray. Some were too big, some too small, and one somehow looked like Neko Neko's face.
"Beautiful."
She declared.
"Disturbing."
Andrew countered.
"Delicious."
She corrected.
"Dubious."
He fired back. She stuck her tongue out at him before shoving the tray into the oven. The moment the door closed, Tina turned to Andrew with a wicked grin.
"So…"
She said slowly, eyes gleaming.
"Now we wait."
Andrew narrowed his eyes.
"Why do you look like you're plotting something?"
"I'm not plotting."
"You're absolutely plotting."
Her grin widened.
"Maybe."
Before he could react, Tina lunged at him with a fistful of flour. The white puff exploded across his chest, shoulders, and face like a blizzard. Andrew froze. Slowly wiped the powder off his lips. Stared at her. Tina clapped her hands together, trying—and failing—to look innocent.
"Oops?"
Andrew set the bowl down carefully. Very carefully.
"Tina."
"Yes, fiancé of mine?"
"You just declared war."
She squealed as Andrew grabbed a handful of flour in retaliation. Within seconds, the kitchen turned into a battlefield. Flour bombs soared through the air. Tina ducked behind the counter, peeking out with flour in her hair and on her lashes, giggling so hard she could barely breathe. Andrew, normally the image of calm sass, now looked like a fallen snowman—but his lips were curved in the smallest, most reluctant smile. Neko Neko squeaked furiously from his perch, waving his tiny whisk like a white flag—or maybe a sword. Nobody could tell. By the time the oven timer beeped again, the kitchen looked like a winter wonderland gone wrong. Flour clung to every surface. The once-pristine counters were dusted white, and both Tina and Andrew were unrecognizable. Tina popped up from behind the counter, grinning triumphantly.
"I win."
Andrew arched a flour-covered brow.
"Win? You cheated."
"All's fair in cookies and war."
He wanted to argue. He really did. But instead, he found himself chuckling—an honest, warm laugh that slipped out before he could stop it. Tina's eyes softened at the sound, her grin fading into something gentler. For a brief moment, the chaos quieted. Then the oven beeped again.
"Oh! Cookie babies!"
She gasped, rushing to pull them out. Andrew peered over her shoulder. The cookies were… uneven. Some edges burned, some undercooked, some oddly shaped. But the smell—sweet, buttery, rich with chocolate—filled the air. Tina picked one up with exaggerated care and blew on it.
"For you."
She said softly, offering it to him. Andrew hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he took a bite. The cookie was… surprisingly good. A little too sweet, a little too gooey, but not bad. Not bad at all.
"Well?"
Tina asked, bouncing on her toes. Andrew chewed slowly, then licked a bit of melted chocolate from his lip.
"It's… edible."
Her face fell.
"Edible?"
He smirked.
"More than edible. It's… good."
Her eyes lit up, and she practically glowed under his reluctant praise. Andrew looked at her, flour in her hair, chocolate smudge on her cheek, beaming like a child who'd just won the world. The kitchen looked like a battlefield that had barely survived the apocalypse. The flour blizzard settled slowly, dusting the counters, the cabinets, even the chandelier above them. If Elijah came back and saw this, he would probably faint—or worse, nag both of them until they begged for mercy. Tina plopped down on a stool at the counter, clutching a plate of cookies like it was a crown jewel. Neko Neko sat beside her with a crumb stuck to his fur, glaring as if he'd been unfairly excluded from the war. Andrew took the stool across from Tina, his shirt ruined beyond saving, his hair dusted white, but his posture—annoyingly—still elegant. He crossed one leg over the other, wiped a bit of flour from his cheek, and fixed her with a long look.
"You realize Elijah is going to murder us when he sees this mess."
He doubted his own words but it seemed like the most reasonable thing a Butler would do. Tina giggled, hugging the plate tighter.
"Then I'll protect you from him."
"I don't need protection."
"Yes, you do."
She said, shoving a cookie at him.
"From my cookies. Eat."
Andrew eyed the offering like it was a trap. But he bit into it anyway, chewing slowly. The sweetness burst across his tongue, cloying and rich, but… warm. Homemade in the messiest, most chaotic sense of the word. Tina rested her chin in her hands, watching him like a child waiting for Santa's approval.
"Well? How does it taste from my hands?"
He swallowed.
"Still edible."
She groaned and kicked his legs under the counter.
"You're so mean! Just admit they're good."
He smirked.
"They're… good enough."
Her face lit up like a sunrise, all glowing warmth and excitement. For some reason, that reaction squeezed something in his chest harder than the sugar rush. Tina leaned closer, voice softening.
"See? I told you I could make something sweet for you."
Andrew froze. The words weren't just about cookies. He could hear it—the echo of what she'd said before. 'I already fell for you. Now I'm gonna make you fall for me.' He swallowed hard, trying to bury the flicker of heat in his chest. Tina, oblivious to his internal panic, picked up another cookie and nibbled on it. Chocolate smeared at the corner of her mouth.
"Messy."
Andrew muttered, reaching over before he could stop himself. His thumb brushed the smudge from her skin, the touch brief but electric. Tina blinked at him, her eyes widening in startled wonder. Then she smiled—soft, quiet, almost shy. It wasn't the usual chaos grin she wore like armor. This was different. Real. Andrew pulled his hand back quickly, his ears burning.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
She asked innocently, tilting her head.
"Like you're winning."
Her grin returned, mischievous and knowing.
"Maybe I am."
Andrew groaned and shoved another cookie in her mouth just to shut her up. For a few minutes, they ate in silence—if only silence could exist with Tina around. She hummed under her breath, swinging her legs like a child, while Neko Neko sneakily pawed crumbs off the counter. Andrew caught himself staring at her. Flour in her hair, chocolate on her lips, legs swinging, smile too bright for her own good. And he thought—just for a second—that maybe, just maybe, this chaos wasn't the prison he'd made it out to be. Maybe it was something else. But the thought terrified him, so he shoved it deep down, letting out his usual sigh.
"You're impossible."
"And you're cranky."
"Because you make me cranky."
"And you secretly like it."
He shot her a glare, but she only laughed, her voice ringing out like bells in the flour-dusted air. Andrew looked away, hiding his own reluctant smile. Maybe, he thought again, maybe he could survive this engagement.
But only maybe.
Neko Neko's mini theater🐨🐨
The Cookie War 🍪
Ahem. This is Neko Neko reporting live from the battlefield, also known as The Mansion Kitchen of Doom.
Let me tell you something about humans: they cannot be trusted with flour.
One minute, I was supervising like the professional sous chef I am (yes, my whisk is official). The next minute—BOOM! Chaos everywhere.
First, Tina-chan declared she was "making cookies." Ha! Lies. She was summoning a sugar demon. I saw it with my own eyes. The dough tried to crawl out of the bowl at least twice. I almost called an exorcist.
Then came Andrew-sama. He tried to stop her. He tried to scold her. But alas, he was no match for Tina's ultimate attack: puppy eyes.
He mixed the dough anyway. Amateur mistake. Rule #1 in the kitchen: never let Tina mix things. That's how you get… whatever that dough was.
But oh, chaos was only beginning.
Flour war.
Yes, you heard me. A full-scale, no-mercy flour war broke out. I, of course, waved my whisk to declare neutrality, but they didn't care. I got hit. In the face. With flour. Do you know how long it takes to groom flour out of fur? TOO LONG.
And then—AND THEN—the cookies came out. Uneven, lopsided, some of them shaped like my face (?? excuse me ??), but… edible.
I watched Andrew-sama take a bite, trying so hard not to admit he liked it. But I saw it. His omega tail wagged on the inside. (Don't tell him I said that. He'll deny it.)
And Tina-chan? She looked at him like she just won the lottery. I thought she was gonna explode into sparkles right there.
Let me tell you, this engagement might be a battlefield, but Tina is winning. Slowly. Cookie by cookie.
As for me? I demand hazard pay.
End of report.