We make it downstairs into the kitchen and thankfully no one is in there, but ourselves. I let go of Greyson's hand so I can wonder around the kitchen studying it's beautiful qualities. "So, what sounds good?" He asks stuffing his hands in his pockets.

I hum, thinking of the possibilities. "I don't know, what do you think?"

Smiling he opens up the stainless steel fridge pulling out ingredients. What I see tucked in his arms are marinara, cheese, and he has pizza crust balanced on his head making me laugh. "Pizza?" He asks me, making sure not to lose concentration on balancing the crust on his head.

"That's sounds amazing actually."

Strategically he places the ingredients on the counter without spilling anything. I marvel on how easily he made that look, but I quickly snap out of it as he opens up a cupboard door. He pulls out two aprons, making me laugh once again. "Aprons?" I question incredibly, hiding my smile behind my hand.

"Duh? How else can you cook a meal without aprons?" He hands me a cupcake designed one with a thick pink ribbon to be tied around my waist. Gladly I take it hooking it around my neck, focusing on the tie behind my back.

As I look up I see a smirking Greyson. I look down to see what his apron is and it is a picture of a man's shirtless torso, wearing a speedo. The man on the apron is very tan and ripped, "Pretty accurate huh?" He holds out his hands waiting for an answer as he smiles widely.

I snort smacking a hand over my mouth almost immediately, "You're ridiculous!" I exclaim.

He laughs, making me smile wider. It's not a laugh that I expected coming out from him. It's like a hyena cackle, that makes his whole face light up. "Come on let's get cooking," he finally says after sobering from his laugh.

Quickly I take the marinara opening the new jar. Immediately my mouth waters with its appealing scent. Greyson readies the dough as I dip my spoon into the jar, preparing to spread the sauce on it.

But as I bring my spoon out of the jar, it catches on the side. This flinging the sauce into the air. I gasp watching where it travels, and just to me luck, it splatters right on Greyson's cheek. I freeze, and so does he.

The side of my mouth start twitching into a smile as the marinara drips down to his pale yellow shirt. "I'm so sorry," I try to say sincerely though it doesn't come out that way. That's probably because I'm smiling very widely, hiding all of my giggles and laughs.

Slowly he closes his eyes, and then opens them back up to look at me. Slowly he stalks over to me, reminding me of when he was in his wolf form. I take a step back, and then another. "No, you're fine. It wasn't your fault." He says, but it doesn't convince me.

Suddenly he lunges for the sauce himself, completely discarding the spoon as he grips the jar firmly in his hand. "But I think this would make a great shampoo," he tells me before holding the jar above my head, pouring all of its contents onto my hair.

I yelp as the cold marinara drips into my hair, making a steady flow rush down my face. It feels thick, and disgusting. How can one thing so delicious feel so weird.

It's then Greyson's turn to laughs, as I see him clutch his stomach after I remove all contents from my eyes. "I'm so sorry," he mocks still laughing loudly at me.

Alright Greyson, you just started a war.

Smirking I lung towards him, taking some sauce from my head holding it in my palms. And while he's too busy laughing to notice what I'm doing, I rub my messy hands all over his face. He gasps loudly, as I run my hands all over his face, hair, and shirt. Finally stepping back to look at my art.

I kiss my fingers, "This is a masterpiece." I say crossing my arms.

His shoulders shrug up, as his eyes clench shut. "You're going to wish you hadn't done that." He tells me, flinging sauce from his hands onto the floor.

I just raise my eyebrow, brushing off the threat. Which I wasn't a good idea since Greyson instantly makes his move.

Quickly Greyson uses his enhanced speed to open the fridge. I barely have time to register his speed as he makes his way back towards me with something else in hand.

Until suddenly another cold, creamy substance is rubbed all over my face, but he's careful of my bruises. "Greyson!" I exclaim as he lathers it in my hair.

He laughs, until I start grabbing the substance currently being scrubbed in my hair, blindly slapping it onto him. Quickly I figure out he's been spraying whipped cream onto me.

Greyson tries to block my hands as they come to rub food all over him. But we're both blind with food in our eyes.

Quickly it becomes a food fight as we're rubbing all sorts of food onto each other, to the point of each of us smelling like a three course meal. Our hair colors not even looking the same as before. But it's obvious that Greyson has won since I have so many foods caked onto my face. But somehow he's avoided the bruises covering one whole side.

He pours yet another food on top of my head. This time it's chocolate syrup, "Stop! I give, I give." I tell him lightly pushing his chest. Abruptly the stream of chocolate stops, finally letting my eyes drift open to look up to Greyson.

Smugly he looks down to me, and I just have to say, I got him good. Greyson covered me in mostly sweet things as I just found gross things in the fridge to pour on him. I mean I pretty much made him to be a hotdog. Mustard, ketchup, mayo, relish, and pickle juice I poured on him. He smells horrid, but somehow still looks attractive.

Suddenly Greyson quickly leans forward, and the air in my throat quickly gets caught as I think he's leaning in for a kiss. But alas, he doesn't.

Greyson turns his head last minute, and he licks my face. You heard it, he licks me. Starting from my jaw, all the way up to my temple. I grimace flinching away from him, "Ew!" I laugh, "What the hell?"

He chuckles, licking his lips. "The perfect sundae," he says smiling fondly at.

"You licked me," I deadpan though I'm smiling.

He sighs, but I can see a smile threatening to come onto his face. "I'm a dirty dog Willa," he smirks.

"Oh my god!" I exclaim smacking my forehead, only to make whipped cream fly. "Just go take a bath or shower please. You smell," I tell him so he can leave me. This way I can blush in peace.

"Anything for you," he coos clapping his hands together. Before he leaves he kisses the tip of my nose, where a glop of whipped cream resides. I roll my eyes, though my face sets on fire. Good thing my skin is almost unseeable from all this food.

He smirks finally turning around to go take a shower. Leaving me with the mess, I sigh assessing the crime scene. The food fight crime scene. "Faye!" I yell because I'm going to need help cleaning up the splattered food everywhere.