This’ll be a shitty one-shot, but here we go.
Simon twisted his sterling silver ring as he stood outside of the bakery. It had been seven months since Ricky had proposed, and they were finally beginning to finalize the details of the wedding. He smiled in giddy excitement as he stared at the storefront sign, which read, “Jefferson Bakehouse.”
“Simon Jefferson,” he chirped under his breath. He breathed deeply as he straightened his suit collar and tightly clutched his messenger bag. He felt his nerves beginning to get the better of him, urging him to turn away; however, he knew that this was nothing more than the ghosts of his past haunting him. Finally, it was time to move forward into freedom and personal happiness. For good.
In haste, he positioned himself in front of a reflective, storefront window, and he ran his fingers through his hair to make sure every hair was perfectly in place; he pulled a tube of lip balm out of his messenger bag and added a light coat to his already moisturized lips; he took one more moment to straighten his suit, and he let out a light sigh as he stared at himself up and down. Ricky’s words echoed in his head as he stared at himself, “We’ve been together for six years, Bubbles. It’s not senior year anymore; don’t feel like you have to be the perfect guy. I love you, flaws and all.” Simon knew that his vanity was his biggest vice, but he could not help it. He only wanted to present his best for Ricky at important times like this. With one more deep sigh, he moved to the door and pushed.
The entryway bell of the bakehouse jingled as the door swung open, catching the attention of a young woman sitting at a desk a few feet away from the entrance. “Good afternoon, and welcome to Jef-” the woman started as she looked up from her phone. She stopped, mid-sentence, as she locked eyes with Simon, and her jaw dropped. “Oh, Mr. Hayden!” the young woman cried, her eyes popping open in excitement, “Mr. Jefferson is in the kitchen. I’ll get him for you!”
“Thank you, Beverly. And I told you, just call me Simon! I’m not exactly old enough to be called ‘Mister,’“ Simon chuckled as Beverly scampered away. He nervously shoved his hands into his pockets and began pacing back and forth as he waited for Ricky. As he peered into the dining area from the bakehouse foyer, he noticed some of the guests watching him. He could tell that they recognized him, though he could not tell if it was from the news stories or his picture on the wall. He flashed an uncomfortable-yet-gracious smile at the guests, and he gave a subtle wave as they giddily smiled back.
Suddenly, Simon felt a light tap on his shoulder. As he turned around, his cheek was pummeled by a barrage of light kisses, causing him to blush as two arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes met Ricky’s, and they pecked each other on the lips. “I was wondering how long you were gonna take in the window,” Ricky teased, playfully tussling Simon’s hair. Simon sneered as he pecked Ricky on the lips one more time and pulled away. “Business mode, Pumpkin,” Simon whispered. Ricky bit his lower lip as he grabbed Simon’s hand and pulled him back into the kitchen.
“Fine,” Ricky started as they walked, “So, you’re probably wondering what I meant on the phone.” Simon nodded, eyeing Ricky up and down in his fitted, black uniform. Ricky smirked as he pulled Simon through the kitchen and to the refrigerators in the back. “Hey, Horn Dog, eyes up here,” he teased, stopping in front of a fridge full of cream pastries.
Simon’s eyes shot up to Ricky’s, and he smirked back as he briefly glanced at the fridge. “That’s my line,” he breathed, pecking Ricky on the lips. Ricky chuckled as they kissed, and they leaned against the fridge. “Anyway,” he continued, wrapping Simon’s arms over his shoulders, “I know you said that you didn’t want me to make our wedding cake…”
“Uh huh,” Simon responded, skeptically raising one eyebrow, “You’re already super-focusing on the wedding. That’s why I got us a planner, Pumpkin.”
“Okay, but hear me out,” Ricky continued. Simon sighed, taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest in a huff. His eyebrow remained raised, and he began slowly tapping his foot as he stood at his akimbo. Ricky curled his lips, nervously, and folded his hands behind him as he relaxed his wait into the fridge. “Well?” Simon commanded, gritting his teeth as Ricky silently stared back at him.
“I wouldn’t be saying anything if I wasn’t already done,” Ricky sighed, cautiously. He knew that he had to broach this topic lightly, since Simon had been so explicit about his wishes. “So remember how we found a sample of our dream cake, but it was just… meh?” Ricky continued. Simon nodded as he shifted his lower jaw and gave a warning glare. “And I told you it would be fine,” he hissed, “I told you the planner knows what he’s doing. He recommended that specific baker for us.”
“You did, you said that! But… Bubbles, I knew I could do it better. I knew I could make it exactly like we talked about; not too creamy, but not too fluffy; not too stiff, but not runny; not too floury, but not too sweet. Bubbles, every single cake we tasted from that baker was sweet, fluffy, and stiff. I know you’re willing to settle, but… I want to give you your dream wedding. Come here.”
Ricky sprinted to a fridge farther back as Simon reluctantly trailed behind, arms still folded. From the fridge, Ricky pulled out a small paper plate containing a slice of cake and a plastic fork. He enthusiastically extended it to Simon, who glared at him as he snatched it away. “At least taste it before you get mad,” Ricky pleaded. Simon pursed his lips as he grabbed the fork and violently shoved it into the front of the slice. Ricky’s eyes widened at this, and he intently watched Simon lift the fork to his mouth. The cream center of the cake sagged in the fork’s gaps, causing Simon’s lips to involuntarily water.
Ricky curled his lips, his legs trembling with excitement as Simon placed the cake in his mouth. Immediately, Simon melted while he chewed, letting out soft moans. The sweet creaminess of the cake sent his palate into a dance, and the subtle fruitiness left him feeling refreshed and craving more. Simon pursed his lips as he shoved another piece of the cake into his mouth, causing Ricky to smile widely. “How is it?” he asked, taking a step toward Simon and pecking him on the cheek.
“Shut up,” Simon snapped, coyly. He smirked as he continued to devour the slice, handing the plate back to Ricky when he was done. “And I finished it,” Ricky bragged, taking the plate and leading Simon to the next fridge over. This fridge only contained one cake; a three-tier white cake with pink icing roses lining each edge. Simon’s eyes widened as he stared at the cake, completely bewildered by its beauty. “Is this…?” Simon started, but Ricky cut him off, overcome by his own excitement.
“A three-tier raspberry-cream vanilla lava cake with cream cheese icing, sweetened and floured to absolute perfection? Yes, yes it is,” Ricky boasted, flashing Simon a charming smile. Simon blushed brightly as he tried to respond, but he could not form words. He was so beside himself with happiness, all he could do was gawk at Ricky in awe.
“Pumpkin, h-how did you…?” he tried to ask, but he could not even think of how to end his question.
“It took for-fucking-ever. Once I made the test batch you tasted, the whole staff basically forced me to stop working on the bakehouse stock and just focus on this. Beverly started her apprenticeship early to cover for me. We all wanted to surprise you… Surprise!” Ricky held his hand out to grab Simon’s, but Simon did not reciprocate. Instead, he lunged at Ricky and wrapped his arms around him. They kissed passionately for a moment, and Simon began crying softly.
“I cannot fucking wait to marry you, Pumpkin,” he bawled.
