A/N: We all love Angel/Collins fluff, right:D Enjoy. R&R please!
"Collins, pass me that tomato over there, would you?" Angel muttered absently, hustling about the small kitchen area of the apartment she and her boyfriend shared.
"Sure, baby," Collins replied, grabbing the tomato on the table and throwing it to her.
Angel whirled around and caught it quickly. Collins nodded to her, "Nice catch, Ang."
"Don't throw these things like that unless you want a mushy, red glob on the wall."
Collins smirked. Angel was always very concentrated when she was cooking. When Collins had first moved in with her, the first thing he noticed was that Angel hadn't been the best cook in the world...Collins would sometimes have to choke down some of the food she'd made. But with a little help from Mimi, some nice cookbooks she'd borrowed from Joanne, and a hell of a lot of practice, Angel's cooking skills improved greatly. As a matter of fact, Angel had become a damn good cook over the past couple of months. She could take the little amount of food they had and turn it into a great meal.
He always liked to help her out in the kitchen when he wasn't working or grading papers. It was fun for Collins just to know he was helping her out, and that he got to spend quality time with her to make up for the hours he'd spend at NYU.
He watched her make the pasta sauce, carefully sprinkling a little of this and a little of that in the pan. Collins wasn't really paying attention to the ingredients she was adding—he was paying a lot more attention to the way Angel's eyebrows furrowed just slightly, how her tongue was sticking out of her mouth just a bit in concentration...her cheeks flushed because of the heat of the stove.
He stalked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. Angel jumped.
"God, Tom, you scared me!" she cried.
He leaned down to brush his lips against her neck. "Sorry," he whispered.
"S'okay..." Angel replied, picking up a spoon to stir the pasta sauce.
But Collins wasn't finished yet. Kissing her temple ever so gently, he said, "I love you."
Collins detected a flash of a smile on Angel's lips before it faded away to a pout. "I have to finish making dinner, Collins."
"So? What's your point? You finish, I give kisses."
"My point is that you'll distract me and I'll never—" Kiss. "Collins!"
He'd found his way back down to her neck. "Mmm?"
Angel stomped her foot firmly. "Stop."
"Why?"
"Because I have to finish dinner. Didn't we already go through this?"
"Yes."
Angel crossed her arms and let out a sigh. "I'm apparently not making myself clear."
"I love it when you act strict."
"Callins!"
"Whaaaat?"
Angel rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to be helping me."
"I am."
"If you were, you'd be getting me the sugar in the top cupboard."
"Aww, that ain't fair, you didn't ask me for it!" Collins rested his chin on her shoulder. "How was I supposed to know?" He paused. "Wait...why do you put sugar in the sauce?"
Angel laughed, turning around to face him. "To make it sweet, silly. Everyone knows that."
Collins nodded. "I see. Sweet." He tapped her nose with his finger lightly. "Just like you."
She smiled a bigger smile than before, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately.
When they broke away, Angel whispered in his ear, "I think your idea of 'helping' is a little bit different than mine."
Collins smiled, kissing her neck. "That makes two of us, Miss Angel."
Angel had been right.
Dinner was never finished.
