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>you wander into the kitchen at 10pm
>you see her at the stove, an apron around her waist and nothing but one of your much-too-big shirts on
>you're about to call out to her
>she turns her head and looks at you
>upon seeing your face, hers lights up like the porch lights out front
>"oh! you're still up!"
>she steps away from her saucepan and wipes her hands on her clothes
>you notice it's her Pat The Cook! apron and chuckle
>she brushes past you, a breeze in the wind just barely grazing your cheek
>"could you reach up and grab me the garlic powder?"
>even as she asks you, she herself whips her hair around and tries to get it anyway
>it's almost comical watching her short figure get on her tippy toes and flail her arms around for it
>"here, don't freak out"
>she barely has time to squeal when you walk over and hold her up by the waist
>she still does anyway
>gingerly, she grabs the garlic powder, and you set her down
>she's pouting, eyes back at the stove
>suddenly, she giggles with a pair of closed eyes
>a quick peck on your cheek that slows your world to a crawl
>"thank you! come on, help me finish this!"
>she scurries away
>you can still feel her warmth in your arms
>her lips on your skin