Lewis Tetch wasn't exactly a culinary expert, but when it came to making something special for his boyfriend, he was willing to try. And tonight? Tonight, he was making pizza.
Well, attempting to make pizza.
The kitchen was already a disaster. Flour dusted the countertops, and a smear of tomato sauce streaked across Lewis' cheek where he had absentmindedly scratched an itch. The dough sat stubbornly on the counter, refusing to stretch properly no matter how much he kneaded and rolled.
"Alright, you little menace," he muttered at the dough, stretching it again. It immediately shrank back like a rubber band. He scowled. "You're lucky I'm determined."
He had no idea how professional pizza makers did this so effortlessly. But he refused to be defeated by an inanimate object.
After a few more tries—and some accidental air tossing that nearly sent the dough flying into the ceiling—he finally managed to get a somewhat circular shape. Close enough.
Next came the sauce, which he spread on with slightly more enthusiasm than necessary. Then the cheese, which he definitely overdid, but hey, who complained about too much cheese? Not his boyfriend, that was for sure.
For toppings, Lewis carefully placed slices of pepperoni in a heart shape in the center. He debated adding mushrooms but decided against it; he wanted this to be a surprise, not a test of taste bud bravery.
Finally, he slid the pizza into the oven and set the timer.
Now, all that was left was to clean up the evidence before his boyfriend got home.
—
By the time the door opened, Lewis was standing triumphantly in the kitchen, holding the finished pizza on a plate. It wasn't the most professional-looking thing in the world—slightly lopsided, cheese bubbling over the edges—but it smelled amazing.
"Hey, babe!" he called out as his boyfriend stepped inside. "I made dinner."
His boyfriend paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Lewis, still dusted in flour, and the pizza with its slightly misshapen heart in the center. He chuckled. "You made this?"
"With my own two hands," Lewis declared proudly.
His boyfriend grinned, walking over and pressing a kiss to Lewis' cheek—the one still smeared with tomato sauce. "You're the cutest," he murmured.
Lewis beamed. "Now, let's eat before I realize I forgot to set the oven to the right temperature.