oh michelle sweet woodruff for the flower prompt 👀
When suddenly, you can type 1k+ in an hour no sweat but you can't step into your WIPs. Thanks for prompting me dear Tessa. Also, woodruff is pretty famous in Germany to flavor drinks and jelly.
Sweet Woodruff. Humility
“Promise me you won’t laugh, but…"
If you asked people what Carlos Reyes was known for, they’d say cooking (only TK would answer “loving me”). It wasn’t a rarity for TK to bring homemade lunch and to have only half of it left because Marjan wanted to “test its spice level”, “Mateo wanted to see “if it tastes like my Tia’s cooking” and Paul tasted to see if his version of the dish was better than Carlos’. Once TK started coming home with a grumbling stomach and a sour mood, Carlos started packed extra. They called it the 126 portion. Half for TK, half for everyone else.
So when the bakery Captain Vega had ordered cakes for Evie and Izzy’s birthdays cancelled last minute, and the stress filled the rig like it was mixed into the air, TK suggested, “Carlos is off today. He could make the cakes.”
Cap looked at him briefly from the passenger seat, her arms still wound tightly around her chest. “Really? Is he a good baker?”
“He’s an amazing cook.”
“A cook does not make a baker though,” Cap mused.
“If his baking is half as good as his cooking, the girls will be in heaven,” Nancy said from the back of the rig, making TK beam in pride and nod.
“I don’t want to just put this on him-”
“Let me ask him!” TK offered. “I’m sure he’ll love to make something for the girls. And we all know they’re a little in love with him still, so getting their crush to bake them the birthday cake? Two birds, one stone.”
“Two cakes, one dreamboat of a baker,” Nancy chimed in.
Carlos agreed, reluctantly. TK could hear hesitancy in his tone and his pauses. It didn’t help that once he said yes, Cap listed her girls’ dietary restrictions and wishes with Carlos on the speaker. One raspberry chocolate cake - gluten free - no sprinkles but lots and lots of crushed candy on top and cut into the shape of a heart ; one classic birthday cake but with an ombre effect on the outside of the three layers. Even TK gulped at the detailed instructions and he had never baked a single cake before.
“I realize what a tall order this is- just- never mind Carlos,” Cap interrupted herself, “Just get a normal and a chocolate gluten free cake mix and call it a day. Those were just the wishes we gave to the catering but - they’ll love anything you make. I'm sure of it.”
“No,” Carlos told her. “No, of course they’ll get the cakes they wished for. It’s their birthday.”
It’s past midnight when TK comes home, weary bones carrying him up to his apartment but the smell of baked goods resuscitate him. He can almost taste the vanilla sprinkles batter on his tongue, feel the raspberry buttercream on his hands, the still warm dough of the pieces of cake Carlos had to cut away for the heart form.
Still in shift, TK had texted Carlos ‘DO NOT wash away the batters and creams from the bowls. DO NOT’
Carlos hadn’t replied. But as he steps in, TK’s mouth falls open. The kitchen is in a state he’s never seen it before. He didn’t know they had this many bowls to begin with. This many utensils, even this much counter space to put everything on. It’s a wonder the sugar container hasn’t fallen over yet.
Carlos doesn’t even seem to hear him come in. When TK walks closer, the tense form of his husband gets added to by a frown, sweat on his brows, as Carlos leans down and raises a trembling hand holding a cake lifter toward the edge of something TK can’t see from this angle.
He waits until Carlos releases an unhappy sound and straightens back up to say, “Hey babe. Are you okay? How are the cakes looking?”
When Carlos turns to him, full bodied, there is a gleam of something that can only be called madness in his eyes. “The cakes?”
“Yes…the cakes?” TK tries for humor “Unless you’re building a bomb over there?”
He walks over and attempts to enter the kitchen space but Carlos suddenly steps into his way. “No. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” TK asks, dread slowly sinking in at how truly distressed his husband seems. “What is going on?”
“The cakes aren’t done yet. I- I tried. I searched for a recipe, finally found the perfect one, gluten free, one naked cake. I got all the ingredients. I stuck to the recipe. I swear I did! But the batter was too runny and then I kept it in too long so the top burned and then i had to start again but I over whipped the buttercream and when I finally got the cake layers done they were still too hot so the new batch buttercream ran and I had to go back to the store and get new ingredients to-”
TK takes Carlos face in both hands, just like Carlos would when TK spiraled. “Hey, hey, breathe baby, breathe.”
Air whizzes out, high and sharp but Carlos seems to relax the more free breaths he takes. TK never lets go of his face. He swipes a thumb over the flour dusted cheek until Carlos’ skin regains its normal color.
“Now, are you still working on both cakes?”
Carlos shakes his head, then winces. “One is done but-”
“Come on, show me? I’m sure it’ll be tasty. It’ll be beautiful.”
Carlos looks down at the ground. “They’re really not.”
“Shh. You’re just too hard on yourself.”
Carlos closes his eyes with a sigh. He kisses TK’s wrists, then he leads him into the kitchen. The chaos is even worse in the center of it.
“Promise me you won’t laugh,” Carlos asks, blocking the cake with his body.
Before TK has a chance to reassure him, Carlos has turned back around with a plate in his hand. The cake on it looks a bit uneven, crumbs are mixed into the chocolate buttercream outside and Carlos has overdone it with the colorful candy topping. If TK squints, and truly, mostly because he knows it’s supposed to be, he can guess the uneven arches on top make it heart-shaped.
He is still smitten with his husband; not a day goes by he’s not in awe of something mundane Carlos does. Just today he marveled at how quickly and accurately Carlos flossed.
The cake isn’t picture perfect, isn’t what he knows Carlos had envisioned. TK still wants an exact copy of it for Valentines.
“Babe, Izzy will freak out. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s not perfect.”
“Carlos, you tried to save their birthday, you made the cakes they wished for. They’ll better be over the moon for them, or I will eat all of it myself in revenge.”
TK goes over to the chunks of chocolate cake that lay discarded on the crowded counter. He takes it and dips it into the pink cream in the bowl next to it. It’s sweet, rich and delicious. “I love it.” He walks over, gives Carlos a kiss. Carlos tastes like birthday cake batter. “They’ll love it. I’m sure they will.”
Carlos finally seems to relax, a tightrope cut through until tension leaves exhaustion. Even tired he manages a small smile. “The last time you had too much cake you spent a few painful hours in the bathroom. So maybe don’t try again?”
TK huffs. “That was one time. And I’m sure the cake was expired or something.”
“Uhuh.”
“Come on. You want me to help with the other cake or not?”
“Please. But again, promise not to laugh because this one looks worse.”
It does look worse. TK smiles a bit, but then they both make sure that the second cake looks at least decent enough to save Carlos’ reputation. The 126 will ask for a Carlos Cake for each of their birthdays.
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