#drrrsecretsanta2019

So while his life could, at times, suck, the ability to exchange money for desserts and confectioneries was one of the best parts of life, next to getting these treats for free. 

And it’s snowy, cold days like this that make a city just slightly more peaceful. While snow rarely went untouched in these concrete jungles, people didn’t like being outside, and driving was a bit of a hassle.

Because of this, he got to enjoy his hot chocolate (with whipped cream and marshmallows, thank you very much) in relative peace, foot traffic flowing around his mostly unnoticed presence easily. He supposed that’s the best part of cities. They were noisy, annoying and full of people but being full of people allowed him to fall into the monotony and blend in. Standing out was useful when it came to warning people of who he was. But when no one was fighting, sticking out wasn’t as nice. He appreciated times like these, when it was quieter, like this. When no one realized who, exactly, he was... 

Well that was a holiday miracle, he’d say. 

Not that he believes in miracles, but the chance of things like that were, while slim, still possible.

So maybe he believed in miracles more than he thought.

It was a miracle of sorts that the boss had enough money to get those in the company a small gift. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was… a mug cake? A cake? In a mug? And there’s a mug. With a chocolate powder, which he’s assuming is flour and chocolate and stuff for a cake. At least he likes what he’s seeing so far. He figures he probably has to bake a cake, right? But… he wasn’t one to bake. Respect to those who do, it’s an intricate process that allows for wonderful birthdays and a centerpiece to other kinds of parties. But him? Rough and not really what one would call delicate. 

Tom grins, seeing Shizuo a bit confused by the gift. “You add the wet ingredients and microwave it. There should be instructions on the back.” 

“Oh.” Shizuo turns the gift over and looks. Simple instructions, simple ingredients. Doesn’t look too bad from what he’s gathered.. “Thanks for that.” 

“No problem, make sure to thank the boss when you get a chance, too.”

“Yeah.” Shizuo nods, examining the instructions further. Would he be ok doing this? Specific measurements… he could fudge em, right? Probably? Maybe… He’ll think about it more when he gets home. 

When his shift finally finishes, he walks his way to a supermarket, for Shizuo knows that there’s a simple rule to cake.

 ‘It’s not a cake if it does not have icing’.

Something he’s held on to since his youth, he now must stick to in order to make this mug cake a true cake. A dry mug pastry thing wouldn’t do. It’d be sad, he concludes.

Therefore, from the store he bought a container of icing. 

And by the time he got home, he’d thrown away his empty to-go cup and could only think about his gift. It’s such a small thing, but the excitement for something so sweet, gifted by someone nice enough to let him keep the job despite all the trouble he caused… It made him feel warm inside. Something that he had surprisingly managed to have was friends. Even if he couldn’t get particularly close there were people around him who… cared. 

“So uh, let’s get started on that cake” he thinks, brushing off his mushy feelings. 

Taking a look at those instructions, he reads them over carefully. Just add a bit of milk and some oil. He needs a specific amount, and so, for the sake of the cake, he resigns to looking for the measuring cups. He sifts through his drawers and cupboards, and by some miracle (there it is again), finds them. 

Get out the milk and the oil. Check.

Pick up the mug and the mug cake dry ingredients. Check.

Wash the mug. Check.

So far so good. Next, he dries the mug and pour the dry ingredients into the mug, careful not to spill. Then precisely pouring the milk and oil into the appropriate measuring utensils. A lot of work for just a cake in a mug. But stirring ingredients together and popping the mug (and not the metal spoon) into the microwave and putting it on for a couple of minutes, wasn’t too bad. 

Opening up the icing container and taking a sample of his purchase (sweet, just like he liked it) was pretty great, too. Maybe just receiving one of these would be enough of a gift, but ah. It would get monotonous and plain, and while he wasn’t a hoity-toity chef on one of those shows, he liked his sweets to taste good, and have a contrast in textures. The professionals really did do it best.

Therefore he was plenty excited when the microwaved beeped. He took the mug out, poked it with a knife to make sure it was cooked, and looked at it. 

Then he came to a sudden realization.

“...This is just a microwaved cupcake.” Shizuo says, out loud, in his apartment, alone, staring at the confection. Which…. Isn’t bad, per say. Maybe he should put it in the fridge to cool some, but he can’t stop thinking about it. It’s just… a cupcake. It’s literally a cup cake. Can’t really be mad at that, it’s as advertised, but ah, he wished there was something more to this thing.

Setting it down to cool, Shizuo huffed. He was just going to spread the icing with a knife or something, but… He didn’t realize quite how hard it would be to do that. 

Well he could just eat both by the spoonful, right? That wouldn’t be much an issue, would it? 

… Sure he could, but there’s not much joy in that, was there? Feels kind of pathetic and sad. 

With a deep breath and a sigh, he did what he thought was best. He took a big plastic bag, and started filling it with icing. People did that all the time on those cooking shows, right? The thing where they turn a plastic bag into a piping back. Why couldn’t he try now? Pushing, carefully as he could, all the icing into one corner, he went to look for a pair of scissors. 

Though, why was he even going through all this trouble. For such a silly little thing, does he really deserve something like this. With all the trouble he’s caused the boss over this year (and previous years, if he’s being frank), is this fair? He only receives the occasional gift, and so was this… earned? And why does that even matter to him. He knows he’s not destined to have the quiet life he wishes for, so why even try for it? 

‘Ghh… this is depressing.’ he dismisses, not wanting to think about it anymore. Why bother? Eh, ‘cuz he can?’ He gave in to the feeling, and then was finally accepted by something, right? So it’s ok to give in to desires and wants. To try means that’s one extra moment of happiness.

And this mug cake is going to definitely be one of those extra moments. 

Finally, after far too long, he found the scissors. Well, at least the cake has some time to cool. He’ll take the bag, smush all the icing into one corner and snip. 

“Oh shit-” he struggles to keep the icing in the bag, juggling and dropping some chocolate on the counter. Ok. Ok. How does this work. Twist the end, cup the icing and squeeze the bag so that the icing pipes out on to the cake. And carefully, he manages to pipe out a line of icing, and trace around the circle.

For all of 10 seconds.

In trying to squeeze more out, he managed to misgauge the pressure and, well.

With a loud ‘pop’, he made a mess of his hands and the counter. Alright, how does he fix this? Getting the spoon from earlier, he scrapes as much icing as he could onto the mug cake. Fuck it, right? He’ll try and get the stuff from the counter into the icing can, figuring he could just save the icing for another time, maybe some ice cream for a deconstructed ice cream cake thing?

Deconstructed, he says to himself, looking at the sad, sad excuse for icing and cake in this mug.

He really should have went with the knife, he figures. 

But, ah… he said he’ll enjoy this, so he will. Looking at the packaging again he notices…. Sprinkles? Heh, alright.

He’ll wash his hands, and with the scissors, cut open the packet of sprinkles and, well, sprinkle them on, making the mess look just a little more festive. 

He smiles at the mess, and laughs at himself just a little. He’ll clean this up later, he figures. This never mattered, did it? Just some cake and some icing. It would taste good in the end. 

Well, even with the mess, he did, in fact, have fun.

So he sat at the table, taking his spoon and scooping up some cake up and into his mouth.

‘That ain’t too bad…’ he says to himself, and eats in peace.