the soft hum of the radio filled the messy kitchen of the chateau, blending with the quiet clatter of dishes and the sizzling sound of whatever you've got cooking on the stove. the air was warm and smells of garlic and spices, the golden hue of the setting sun flowed in through the windows, casting a soft glow over everything.

you were focused on chopping vegetables, swaying slightly to the music. it shifted from a mellow tune to a familiar melody. a smile tugged at your lips. you know this song. his favorite song.

before you could react, you felt a pair of hands gently slide around your waist, pulling you back into a firm, warm chest. John B's voice was low, playful, as he leaned in close. “cmon, you know I can’t let this one play without a dance.”

“John B,” you laughed out, trying to keep your attention on the food cooking on top of the stove, “i’m literally cooking dinner right now.”

“dinner can wait,” he countered, his tone was light but resolute as he spun you around to face him. his brown eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint you know all too well, and before you could protest, his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

the music flowed through the air, and he began to grab your hands, his movements were definitely uncoordinated, but they were full of effortless charm that makes you melt. “see?” he teased, his lips turned into a grin. “this is way better than chopping veggies.”

you couldn't help but laugh as you gave in, you set down the knife you were cut the vegetables, letting him guide you in a slow, lazy dance in the kitchen.