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Vessel looks completely out of his depth standing in the doorway to his kitchen, arms laden with bags of ingredients from the grocery store II had sent him out for. His muscles bulge under the weight, and II watches from behind the island counter as he sets the bags down, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Why couldn’t we have just bought a cake?” Vessel asks, looking over at II with a playful frown.
“It’s too hot outside, the icing would melt on the trip here. This way, when III gets here, we’ll be able to take the cake out of the fridge and sing to him.”
“Hmmmm.” Vessel doesn’t seem convinced, and the intense concentration on his face is distracting.
II’s seen it before, in the studio when working through a particularly difficult lyrical section or tweaking the bass and guitar to work better with his drums. This time, though, there’s a bead of sweat above his upper lip that II wants to reach out and wipe away.
Vessel looks up and meets his eyes. “Have you actually ever made a cake before?”
“No,” II says, “but how hard could it possibly be? Take out the flour? I’m pretty sure that’s first.”
Five trips back to the store, and an entire carton of eggs later, it turns out that making a cake is actually really fucking difficult. Vessel is covered in flour, and II has had to change twice. He’s in his last change of clothes, and Vessel is giggling, pointing at something that’s seemingly in II’s hair. Slowly, with trepidation, II reaches up and pulls out an eggshell that’s found its way from being cracked to II’s head.
“I think maybe we should have gone with a cake mix, II,” Vessel says between bouts of laughter.
II casts a sorrowful look at their two previous attempts at a cake. One of them has caved in, with no structural integrity, and the other has too much structural integrity, refusing to come out of the pan. One of Vessel’s trips back to the store was for another set of cake pans. He doesn’t want to make another trip to the store, but they’ve only got three hours to make the cake and get it frosted before III’s party. That he doesn’t know they’re throwing. II could try to text Ivy to delay III, but that won’t stop the guests from arriving on time.
“One more attempt, then we throw in the towel and buy a cake from the nearest bakery.” II tries to bargain with Vessel, but he’s also bargaining with himself.
Vessel dusts his hands on his clothes, and it does nothing because all of him is covered in so much flour. II suspects he might have gotten more flour on his hands instead of getting it off. “One more,” he agrees, “even though we probably should have done that at the start.”
II measures out the flour into the recently cleaned and dried bowl, then follows it with the baking powder and soda. “Aren’t you having fun?” he asks over his shoulder. “It’s nice to spend time with each other outside of recording and touring.”
Vessel pauses where he’s putting the milk back into the fridge. II watches him turn and rake his gaze over him, brown eyes somehow piercing through armor II didn’t know he was wearing. “We write together too,” he says slowly. He’s palming four eggs in his hand. II has watched him crack them one-handed, and it absolutely did not awaken anything in him.
“We write together over Zoom, Vess, it’s not the same as being in the same room like we are now.” II measures out the sugar, but Vessel crosses the room and catches his wrist before he can pour it into the flour. II looks at Vessel’s hand, fingers wrapping completely around II’s wrist. Vessel’s other hand takes the sugar carefully out of II’s hold and puts it on the counter.
“That’s how you fucked up the second cake, II,” he says quietly.
“Well that’s not entirely fair, we have no idea what exactly messed it up because we cooked it too long.”
Vessel brushes a stray lock of hair out of II’s eyes, and II stops breathing. “Maybe you should read the recipe all the way through before you start mixing things that shouldn’t be mixed, hmm?”
II tears his eyes away from Vessel. The message is clear, and he can’t hide the embarrassment sneaking up his cheeks. “Okay, master chef,” he says, “you take over then.”
Vessel laughs, a gentle melodic sound that dances across the kitchen. “You’re not doing too bad, but we mix the sugar with the wet ingredients. And we’re out of buttermilk, so even if this wasn’t our last try, we wouldn’t have enough for another attempt.” II opens his mouth, but Vessel cuts him off. “No, I’m not going back to the store.
II takes a few steps back to let Vessel combine the eggs, sugar, and milk. He does not watch the way his biceps flex as he whisks them, and he absolutely ignores the way his long fingers wrap around the handle. Vessel glances over his shoulder with a gentle smile, his movements never stopping.
”You could prepare the new pans if you wanted? Cooking spray and flour should be all it needs.”
Vessel folds in the dry mix while II prepares the cake pans. He looks so confident, like he’s done this before, and II comes to a very sudden realization with a gasp that makes Vessel drop the spatula he’s using to very professionally fold the batter together.
“You’ve made a cake before,” II accuses, pointing the can of cooking spray at Vessel. A sheepish grin takes over the singer’s face and he holds his hands out to the side, palms up in a gesture of apparent surrender. II’s not going to take it. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you take over? Why did you let me send you to the store five times?”
Vessel picks up the spatula and finishes mixing the dry ingredients into the wet ones. “I thought it was cute how hard you were trying. You were so enthusiastic, and I’ve never seen you put so much effort into something that wasn’t drumming.”
II is bright red by now, he can feel it in the heat on his cheeks. “I want III to have a good birthday.”
“He will,” Vessel says, measuring out the batter into the cake pans. He slides them into the oven and closes it with a soft click. “We still have to decorate it and make the frosting.”
II stares with an open mouth. “You did that so fast. It could have been that fast the whole time?”
Vessel shrugs. “Could’ve been, but then we wouldn’t have spent so much time together. There’s a crease in your brow when you frown that only appears when you’re concentrating.”
“You notice too much,” II mutters.
“You don’t notice enough,” Vessel counters, and suddenly he’s standing toe-to-toe with II. He reaches his hand up to II’s cheek, his thumb hovering just under his eye. “You’ve still got something…” He reaches out and wipes it away, his eyes flicking up to meet II’s. “It was more egg, somehow.”
They’re sharing space in a way Vessel usually only does with III and Ivy on stage. II can’t breathe.
“Can I kiss you?” Vessel asks in a whisper.
II freezes. “What about mixing things that shouldn’t be mixed?”
“When have I ever not been literal, II? I was talking about the cake ingredients, not us.”
II takes a deep breath and meets Vessel’s dark, warm eyes. “Kiss me,” he says, “please.”
Vessel cups II’s cheek and tips his head up, closing the distance between them in a moment. It feels like slow motion to II, but their lips meet, and II’s world bursts into warmth. It spreads through his body like a wave, and he feels like he could float, rising onto his tiptoes to chase the kiss that Vessel is pulling away from. Vessel’s eyes flutter open, and he smiles, running his thumb over II’s cheek.
“Can we do that again?” II asks.
“Maybe we could both get a bit cleaned up. I think I have some of your clothes here.”
“I could always just wear yours,” II offers. Vessel groans, dropping his forehead to II’s.
“Don’t put that image into my head, I’ve got a cake to finish.”
“You’re done pretending I’m any help, huh?”
Vessel laughs. His thumb hasn’t stopped moving, and II can’t pull away from the touch. “You’re pretty, but your genius is not in baking.”
II presses their lips together once before he steps out of Vessel’s hold. “I’ll go get cleaned up then,” he says with a smile.
“Oh my god!”
Vessel and II whip around to see III standing in the kitchen doorway. Behind him, Ivy is racing down the hall, shopping bags hanging from his arms slowing him down.
“Oh my god!” III repeats. He looks over his shoulder at Ivy. “Oh my god.”
“This was supposed to be a surprise,” Ivy groans. “I thought you guys would be done by now.”
“Done?” III asks. “They were just getting started.”
“What?” Ivy’s confusion is clear in his tone.
“They just kissed.”
II weighs the probability of slipping past both III and Ivy with the certain teasing that will continue if he stays.
“They what?” Ivy asks. Vessel only turns around and turns the oven light on. II chooses to sink below the counter, out of sight.
“This is the best fucking birthday present ever. They finally decided to stop eye-fucking each other and do something about it, Ives. We’re free.”
II’s groan is drowned out by the joy in III’s voice as he carries on. He’s so fucking glad they didn’t buy a cake.