Chapter Text
Fakir came home to an extremely messy kitchen. Ahiru was up to her elbows in what Fakir assumed was cake batter. However, cake batter shouldn’t have whole carrots and unshelled walnuts in it. “What are you doing, Ahiru?” he exclaimed. “Uh, nothing, dear…,” his wife mumbled. “This looks like something,” Fakir responded, scrutinizing the blushing redhead. “W-well, you said you said you would be working late at the book shop today and-and I just wanted to make a cake for you!“
Fakir was stunned. She was right, he did say he would be working late. He had mistaken her asking about his plans the night before as a plea to spend more time with her. He had been working long hours, arriving home after the sun had set and and leaving before light streaked the sky.
“I'm sorry, Ahiru,” Fakir awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, not able to meet her eyes. She looked up at him with tears in her big, blue eyes. He forced himself to make eye contact and cleared his throat. “We can make the cake together,” he offered. Or maybe skip this whole mess and move on to other, titillating activities; he thought with smirk.
Ahiru had a glob of batter on her cheek and Fakir cupped her face with one hand, wiping the batter off with his finger. Keeping eye contact, he licked the batter off his finger, watching to see if she picked up on the innuendo. Immediately, his tongue started to burn.
“What did you put in this!” he rasped out. “Um, flour, milk, spices -” she started. “What kind of spices?” Fakir cut her off.
Ahiru looked like she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Fakir would find it oddly endearing, if his mouth wasn't on fire. “The recipe didn’t say… so I choose chili powder. Was that the wrong kind?”