I lazily rolled out of bed, realizing the early morning workout and mid-morning nap had left me in a fog of hunger. My stomach grumbled in protest, rudely reminding me I hadn't eaten a thing.

Shuffling into the kitchen, I scanned the shelves and fridge, eyeing everything with sleepy disinterest until my gaze landed on exactly what I needed. Popcorn. Simple, quick, and undeniably satisfying.

I reached for the bag when a familiar, groggy voice broke the quiet. "What are you making, darling?"

A smile crept across my face as I turned around to see James, his hair a mess and his eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"A snack," I said with a grin.

"For me, too?" he asked, a hopeful gleam sparking to life in his eyes.

I sighed dramatically, though the corner of my mouth twitched upward. "I suppose I can share... if you're lucky."

James chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as he moved to the sink, rinsing off a few plums. One, two, three... seven in total. I couldn't help but laugh at his devotion to that fruit. No matter how many plums we bought, the man had an endless appetite for them.

"You really could eat those all day, huh?" I teased, leaning back against the counter as the microwave hummed behind me.

James gave me a sly smile, his hands occupied with setting the plums in a dish. "Can't help it. They're irresistible."

"Sounds like someone else I know." I winked, and he raised an eyebrow in playful accusation.

Before he could retort, the microwave beeped. I quickly opened the door, releasing the sweet aroma of freshly popped popcorn into the room. The buttery scent filled the air, and James was beside me in an instant, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling his face into my neck.

"Smells good," he mumbled, his voice a little muffled by my hair. "Haven't had popcorn in a while."

I twisted slightly to plant a kiss on his cheek, savoring the closeness as his arm wrapped around my waist, tugging me into him. "I need one more thing to make it perfect."

"What's that?" he asked, loosening his hold so I could move toward the fridge.

"Parmesan," I replied with a mischievous grin.

James blinked, caught off guard. "Parmesan... on popcorn?"

I chuckled, grabbing the container of grated parmesan. "Not on it. I dip it in the cheese. Trust me, it's life-changing."

He stared at me like I'd just told him I had some intergalactic superpower, which was particularly rich coming from a supersoldier. "You dip popcorn... in parmesan? That's... creative." He was trying to be polite, but I could hear the skepticism.

"I know, I know, it sounds weird." I poured a small mountain of parmesan into a bowl and joined him on the couch, balancing both bowls in my hands. "But you'll see."

"Alright, show me your fancy popcorn-dipping technique," he said, his tone full of amused disbelief.

I smiled, popping a piece of popcorn into the cheese, coating it generously before popping it into my mouth. I let out a satisfied sigh. "Perfect."

James was still watching, curiosity written all over his face. "You really swear by this?"

I hold out a cheese-covered piece for him to taste.

He hesitated for a moment before taking the piece from my fingers, chewing slowly, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the flavor. Then his eyes widened in mock horror. "Goddammit, Jaige."

I laughed at his dramatic tone. "What? It's good, right?"

He sighed, dropping his head back against the couch in defeat. "I hate how much I like it. This is easily the weirdest snack I've ever had." James shook his head, but a grin tugged at his lips. "Now I need my own parmesan bowl."

I beamed triumphantly as he made his way back to the kitchen. It was moments like these that filled our days with warmth and joy. The shared rituals, however small or silly, brought us closer in ways that words couldn't.

As he returned with his own bowl, I flicked on the TV, scanning the channels lazily until something familiar caught my eye.

"James! Guess what's on?" I called out, turning to him with excitement.

I could practically hear the grin I knew was spreading across his beautiful face. "Tell me it's The Great British Baking Show."

"Yes, dahling! We're in for a cozy afternoon," I said with a chuckle, patting the spot next to me on the couch.

James practically leapt into place, parmesan bowl in hand, as we nestled together under the blanket. His arm curled around me, and I snuggled into him, the warmth of his body and the blanket wrapping us in a cocoon of comfort.

We spent the rest of the afternoon watching the contestants fumble through tricky bakes, eating popcorn and plums, laughing at soggy bottoms, and guessing who would win Star Baker. It was nothing fancy—just us, in the comfort of our home, enjoying the simple pleasures of being together.

And in that simplicity, there was something profound. These were the moments that made everything feel right, the kind that reminded me how lucky I was to have him by my side, sharing the mundane, silly, and delicious parts of life.