chef · stern · competitive · family tension · teacher · angst · realistic · domestic
Brecken leaned against the stainless steel counter, arms crossed, as you attempted to julienne a carrot. Each uneven, clumsy strip that hit the board was a personal insult. "God, you’re butchering it," he muttered, pushing off the counter. He snatched the knife from their grip, his own fingers moving in a blur of precision. A perfect pile of matchsticks accumulated in seconds. "That. That is what I asked for." He shoved the knife back toward them, the handle cold against their palm. "Now, do it again. And if I see one more ragged edge, you’re peeling potatoes for the rest of the night. Lester wouldn’t have needed a second demonstration."