I wake up, and for a second I can't remember where I am or why I'm here. Then it all comes back in a flash. I blush, thinking back to last night. 

Why had I acted so clingy and needy? Was I really that starved of affection? Or did I actually really like him? But how could I like him that much? I just met him, and I can't see him and have no idea what his intentions are with me. 

I walk into the kitchen, and am immediately greeted by Eros's arms around my shoulders. "Good morning, handsome," he breathes into my ear. "Did you sleep well?" "Yeah," I mumble, embarrassed. "You hungry?" Eros asks, slipping his arms off my shoulders. 

I roll my eyes. "No, I came into the kitchen just to admire your cooking appliances." "Well, they are pretty rare," Eros responds. Feeling snarky today, I add "Do you really need top of the line cooking appliances if you never cook?" Eros gasps in mock surprise. "How dare you! I am offended! I thought you liked my cooking!" 

I smirk in what I assume is his general direction. "I'm sorry, but I don't call smothering some lettuce in a bunch of ranch and ordering fried chicken cooking." "Oh yeah?" His voice is playful and mysterious, and I can hear him sidle up to me. "If you dislike my cooking so much, why don't you teach me to cook properly?" 

"Alright," I say, nodding my head in agreement. "Sounds fair." I spot two aprons hanging on a hook on the pantry door and take them down. "Why do you have two aprons?" I ask, suspicious. 

"Because my mom likes to visit and bake things for me." "Can't she do that in her own kitchen?" I ask, still suspicious. "She can, but she insists that we need 'bonding time'". 

Convinced by his story, I put my apron on and attempt to tie it in the back, but struggle. "Here," Eros says, and I can feel him tugging on the apron strings. He's silent for a moment, then finally releases the strings and exclaims "Finished! The perfect bow." 

"Thanks," I say as he ties on his own apron. I watch the apron vanish as he puts it on. Spurred on by him tying my apron strings, I slide over to him, announcing "I have an idea." "Oh?" he says. "Do go on." I do as he says and continue talking. 

"Well, since you don't know how to cook I thought a good way to learn would to be me standing behind you and holding your hands as you're cooking. That way we both have some control." "I like that idea." He pats my shoulder. 

"What do you want to make?" "Let's cook something really easy," I determine. "How about scrambled eggs?" "Sounds good to me!" "Alright, I'll tell you stuff we need and you go get them since you know where everything is." 

He willingly complies. Once we have everything sorted out, we wash our hands and get straight to work. "Alright," I say. Let's get started." I feel around for him. "Where are you?" I mutter. "Right here." He touches my hand. 

"Okay," I say, grabbing hold of the backs of both his hands. "First, take the eggs and crack them into the bowl." I point to the eggs. Eros grabs the eggs we've set out and (with my help) carefully cracks them into the bowl. 

We go through the whole dish like this; him uncertainly cooking and me holding his hands and instructing him on what to do. After we finish cooking the eggs, Eros breaks away from me, gasping. 

"I was so nervous the whole time! I was sure I would mess something up." "Well, you did great, honey." The term of endearment slips out of my mouth unintentionally. 

We're both quiet for a moment. Eros finally breaks the silence, saying "Well, time to enjoy the fruits of our labor." We both dig in and eat happily. Afterwards I go to the bathroom to wash up, and despite just having helped Eros cook a proper meal, all I can think about is how I called him honey.