The Flavor of Us (Beta Accepted)

5. CARLEEN

Chapter five

CARLEEN

Tati’s rummaging through my kitchen cabinets and honestly, it’s starting to feel like her personal treasure hunt. I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my chest, watching her with a mix of curiosity and dread. She’s already pulled out peanut butter, some half-squished store-brand jelly, and leftover store-bought bread I used for a bread pudding in a pinch.

My goddess, she’s making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I blink slowly as she slams the ingredients onto the counter like she’s about to perform open-heart surgery. Her brows furrow in concentration as she unscrews the peanut butter jar, dipping the knife in without a second thought. No finesse, no care—just pure chaotic energy.

“Are you… okay?” I ask cautiously.

She ignores me, scooping out an obscene amount of peanut butter and slapping it onto a slice of bread with all the delicacy of a wrecking ball. Peanut butter smears across her knuckles, and she mutters something under her breath as she spreads it unevenly, one slice nearly tearing in half.

“Do you… need help?” I try again, but she just glares at me over her shoulder.

“Carleen, I love you, but do not ruin this for me,” she says, her voice firm and full of authority in a way that makes me snap my mouth shut.

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing as she starts on the jelly. It’s not even spread—it’s globbed . Like angry spoonfuls of grape jelly slapped onto the bread with zero distribution. One corner has enough jelly to drown a toddler, while the other corner is as dry as the Sahara.

The two slices are smashed together, peanut butter oozing out the sides like some culinary horror movie.

And then it happens.

Tati holds up the butter knife, still smeared with peanut butter, and without breaking eye contact… she licks it .

Like, fully licks it. Tongue flat, slow, deliberate.

I feel my eye twitch. My Alpha instincts practically scream at me about safety, hygiene, the chaos of it all. And yet… I can’t look away.

“You didn’t just do that,” I mutter, horrified.

“Oh, I absolutely did,” she replies, grinning wickedly as she tosses the knife into the sink with a loud clank .

I move toward the sink, my hand reaching for the faucet to start washing the chaos away when—

“ Carleen! ” Tati groans dramatically, shoving the sandwich into my chest with both hands. “Eat the damn sandwich!”

I stare down at the monstrosity she’s forced into my hands. The bread is uneven, jelly drips down one side, and there’s a smear of peanut butter on my thumb now. I glance up at her, eyebrow raised. “You can’t possibly expect me to eat this.”

She crosses her arms and levels me with a look that could cut steel. “Take. A. Bite. Just… do it. Remember when it was just a sandwich? Like… lunchtime on a school day or a picnic in the park. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be artisan or handcrafted. It’s just… food.”

Her words hit harder than they should. Something about the way she said it, all soft and nostalgic, tugs at something buried deep in my chest. I sigh and glance back down at the sandwich. The messiness of it, the rawness of it… it’s almost charming. Almost .

“Alright, fine,” I mutter, bringing it to my mouth. I take a bite, my teeth sinking into the soft bread, the sweet jelly mixing with the nutty peanut butter. It’s clumsy, sticky, and absolutely not refined in the slightest.

And yet… it’s good .

The flavor hits me harder than I expect and for a second, I’m not here in my sleek kitchen with Tati smirking at me. I’m back in our tiny childhood kitchen, Ellie sitting across from me at the table with jelly smeared across her cheek and her eyes wide with excitement as our mom hands her another sandwich.

I remember school days when our mom would pack PB&J sandwiches into our lunchboxes with a note scribbled on the napkin. Days when it was just Ellie and me against the world, sitting under the slide at the playground and splitting one sandwich because Ellie had dropped hers in the dirt.

Our parents were amazing. Supportive, loving, everything we needed. But there were still moments—little pockets of time—where it felt like it was just Ellie and me. And back then, a sandwich like this felt like a feast.

I swallow the bite, my throat tight, and glance up at Tati. Her grin has softened into something gentler, her hazel eyes watching me carefully.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asks softly.

I nod, my voice coming out a little rougher than I intended. “Yeah. It is.”

Tati grins at me and then—like it’s the most natural thing in the world—she slides closer and cuddles up against my side. Her head rests lightly against my shoulder, her arm curling around my waist, and I swear my entire body goes still. My chest feels too tight, like my ribs can’t quite hold everything I’m feeling.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “beauty is in the simple things. Like a messy peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a little moment like this.”

I huff out a breathy laugh, but it comes out a little watery. Something about the way she said that—how soft and content she sounds—it hits me right where it counts.

“But,” she continues, tilting her head to look up at me, her lips curling into a smirk, “don’t get me wrong. I’ll never say no to all those really pretty foods you make. The ones that look like art and taste like heaven.”

I laugh, genuinely this time, and the tension in my chest eases just a little. “Good to know, sunshine.”

She hums softly and presses her cheek against my shoulder again, and suddenly, the half-eaten PB&J sandwich feels like something more than just food. I glance down at it, then back at her, and a thought crosses my mind before I can stop myself. Carefully, I tear off a corner of the sandwich and hold it up to her lips.

Her hazel eyes flicker up to meet mine, but she doesn’t hesitate. Her lips part and she takes the bite with a soft hum of satisfaction as she chews. And just like that, something shifts in the air between us.

It’s not sexual—not yet—but it’s… intimate. Soft. Vulnerable. Her scent—rich melon, sweet and heavy—thickens around me and I feel it sink into my skin, filling my lungs with every breath I take. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before.

Tati is basking in this. In being fed. In being taken care of. Her whole body has relaxed against me, her lashes fluttering slightly as she chews another bite I offer her. Her soft hums of contentment make something deep in my chest ache in a way I can’t explain.

I keep feeding her, tearing off small bites of the sandwich and pressing them gently to her lips. She takes each one without hesitation, her hazel eyes flickering up to meet mine every now and then. It’s like she’s trusting me with something unspoken, something delicate.

And goddess help me, I love it.

I love watching her like this—soft and pliant, safe in this little bubble we’ve created in my kitchen. The way her scent wraps around me feels like a promise, one I’m not sure I deserve but one I’m damn sure not going to walk away from. By the time the sandwich is gone, Tati’s nose scrunches up in disappointment, her lips pulling into a pout that nearly undoes me entirely.

“Hey,” I murmur, my voice low as I brush a thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You ate all my sandwich,” she says, her voice laced with fake betrayal.

I chuckle, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her temple. “You ate all your sandwich, sunshine. I just helped.”

She huffs but doesn’t move away. Instead, her eyes flicker toward the small plate of leftover beef bites I’d plated earlier for our snack.

I smirk. “Is that what you want now? Hmm?”

Her cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m just saying… they are right there.”

I laugh, reaching for one of the small beef bites with my fingers. It’s messy, the soup slipping down my fingers but it doesn’t bother me. I hold it up to her lips and she takes it delicately, her eyes fluttering shut as she hums around the bite. And there it is again. That little hum, that soft sigh of contentment that feels like it’s pulling at something deep inside me.

She likes this.

No—she needs this.

She needs to feel cared for, doted on, safe. And the fact that she’s letting me see this part of her? That she’s letting me do this for her? It feels like a gift, one I’m only just starting to understand.

I feed her another bite, then another, and each time her scent grows thicker in the air, wrapping around me like silk. She’s practically glowing, her body loose and relaxed against mine, her little sighs filling the quiet spaces between our breaths.

The night stretches on, the lights in the kitchen dimmed now, and the smell of garlic and beef still lingers faintly in the air. It’s late—edging into the early hours of the morning but neither one of us is ready to go to sleep.

Tati’s perched on the edge of the couch, knees tucked under her, damp hair falling in dark waves around her face. She looks soft like this—unguarded, comfortable, mine .

I’m sitting next to her, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch, but my body’s coiled tight, my chest full of restless energy. The TV flickers in the background, some random late-night reality show playing low enough to be nothing more than background noise. Neither of us is really watching, but it’s there—filling the silence that stretches between us.

I glance at Tati and she’s staring at the screen with a faint smile, her thumb absentmindedly brushing along her knee. She must feel me watching her because she turns her head and catches my gaze, her hazel eyes warm and sharp all at once.

“You okay, Alpha?” she asks softly.

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah. I’m good. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” she teases, her lips curling into a grin.

I smirk, but it doesn’t last. My chest feels tight again, and the words slip out before I can stop them. “I’m sorry, Tati.”

Her brow furrows and she shifts so she’s facing me fully, one leg tucked underneath her, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. “Carleen, no. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize.”

I glance away, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “No, I need to. I pushed you away. I made you feel like you weren’t enough—like we weren’t enough. And I’m sorry for that. For all of it.” Goddess, I’ve been dying to say those words for months. I’ve wanted Tati to know that it was never her fault we spent those days apart.

She reaches out, her hand landing softly on my thigh. The warmth of her touch seeps through the fabric of my sweats, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“Carleen,” she muses, “all I saw was that we were supposed to be together. That’s all I ever thought about. The rest? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I let out a low laugh, shaking my head as I glance back at her. “It’s wild to me, you know? That biology can just… push people together and expect them to figure it out. Like, ‘Hey, your scents match, congrats! Now go build a life together.’” It’s always been a sore spot for me, ever since I discovered my own preferences and my comfort level. It was a terrifying thought that biology would thrust me into a situation where love didn’t follow.

I’m glad that didn’t happen.

Tati snorts, her head falling back against the couch cushion as she laughs. It’s such a her sound, so full of life and warmth, that I can’t help but smile. “You sound exactly like Ellie,” she says, her voice still tinged with laughter. “She said almost the same thing after she found out she was pregnant. Like, ‘Cool, biology. Thanks for the mandatory bonding experience.’”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling now, the heaviness in my chest starting to ease. “She’s not wrong.”

“Nope,” Tati says, popping the ‘p’ as she shifts closer to me, her arm pressing lightly against mine. “But here’s the thing, Carleen. This? Us ? It’s not just biology. It’s not just some chemical reaction telling us we’re supposed to be together. It’s… it’s real . And we get to make it whatever we want it to be. This feels like a do-over,” she continues. “Like we get to start over, clean slate, and actually try this time.”

I nod, my throat tight as I process her words. “Yeah. A do-over.”

“But,” she adds, tilting her head slightly, her eyes locking onto mine, “we have to be honest with each other. No hiding, no running. If something’s wrong, we talk about it. If something feels off, we say it out loud. Otherwise… this won’t work. It can’t.”

She’s right. Goddess, she’s so right it hurts.

We fall into a comfortable silence after that. Her hand is still resting on my thigh, her thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric. I stare at the TV, but I’m not really watching it. My attention keeps drifting back to her—to the way her lips curve faintly in a private smile, to the way her scent lingers in the space between us, sweet and warm and undeniably Tati .

I shift slightly, turning so I’m facing her more fully, my knee brushing against hers. “You know… you make it really hard to stay in my head when you’re sitting this close.”

She grins, sharp and teasing. “Good. You spend way too much time in there, Alpha.”

I let out a low chuckle, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. My fingers linger there for a moment, grazing the soft skin of her cheek. She leans into the touch, her lashes fluttering slightly as she exhales.

“Tati…” I start, but the words catch in my throat.

“It’s okay, Carleen,” she says softly, her eyes locking onto mine. “Whatever you’re trying to say—it’s okay.”

For a moment, we just look at each other and then, without thinking, without second-guessing myself for once, I lean in and press my lips softly against hers. It’s not rushed, not desperate. It’s soft, slow—like a promise. Her lips move against mine, her hand sliding up to rest against my chest and it feels like something inside me finally clicks into place.

When we pull back, her forehead rests lightly against mine, and our breaths mingle in the small space between us.

“We’ve got this,” I murmur, my voice low but steady.

Her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes shining. “Yeah, Alpha. We do.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe it.