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“I thought I was on flower duty?” Steve said, lifting up the pile of de-headed rose stems sitting on the counter next to the kitchen sink. He had purchased Darcy a bouquet as well, although he’d picked out a wider variety of blooms and also…left the flowers still attached.
“Those were for the cake,” Pietro said, sitting cross legged in front of the oven with a narrowed eyed gaze.
“The roses were for the cake?” Steve said, surveying the white dusting of flour and sugar that ran the length of the kitchen counter.
“Mhmm.”
“I thought we were making Darcy a molten chocolate lava cake.” Steve pulled a vase out of the top cupboard and tried to remember the florist’s advice about how to arrange them nicely.
“Molten Lava Cake,” Pietro repeated, lifting up a leather bound tome from his lap to above his head for Steve to read from. “Her grandmother’s recipe.”
In Pietro’s defense, the cursive handwriting was a bit messy.
“Molten Love Cake,” Steve read aloud. “Petals from a dozen roses, the zest of three ripe lemons, a heart’s handful of finely chopped pistachio, and strands of hair from you and your lover, braided together???”
“I skipped that,” Pietro said, matter of factly, knee jiggling impatiently as he watched the cake rise in the pans. “Seemed unsanitary.”
Steve debated thwacking Pietro’s fluffy silver hair with the book. “You got a cake recipe for Darcy’s birthday out of her grandmother’s spellbook,” Steve said flatly. “You baked a love spell for Darcy’s birthday.”
Pietro rocked back, leaning against Steve’s shins and peeking up at him from underneath the spellbook with wide pale eyes. “Ohhhh. I did have to add the cocoa powder. I thought it was one of those family recipes that leaves bits out.”
Steve took the book out from between them, sliding it back onto the counter—after brushing away the baking mess—and bent to kiss softly at Pietro’s lips. “We can’t serve Darcy a love spell,” he said, pulling away a fraction.
“But I left the hair out,” Pietro said, pouting slightly and trying hard not to.
“We’ll start over,” Steve said, scratching at the back of Pietro’s neck to soften him to the idea. “You know Darcy’s rule.”
“No love spells,” Pietro said with a sigh and allowed to Steve to pull him up from the floor.
The apartment door opened and they both froze at the light click of heels on the floor.
“Ohhhh, something smells good,” Darcy said and Steve heard the shoes fall to the floor, one by the front door and another on her way to the living room. Her head appeared around the entrance to the kitchen, hair already unpinned from work. She had likely taken care of that on the elevator up from the offices. “Flowers!” she said, beaming and seeing the bouquet Steve had yet to put together. “And cake! You love me!”
“We love you!” Pietro and Steve chorused, both grinning to see her.
A little knot of a frown appeared on her forehead as she caught sight of the counter. “Is that my gram’s spellbook?”
“In my defense I did think it was her cookbook,” Pietro rushed to say as Darcy padded up to see the book laying open.
She waved a hand side to side, “Same thing with Grams. Oh ho ho, did you make me a Molten Love Cake?” She squirmed between them, batting away hands happy to see her, so she could look into the oven.
“Meant it to be a molten chocolate lava cake,” Steve said, because if Pietro was gonna go down for the crime, he probably should too for leaving him unsupervised in the kitchen.
Darcy snorted and then straightened up quickly. “Did you put the hair in it?”
“No, no hair. And I added chocolate,” Pietro said with a smile that was almost a grimace.
“Ohhhh that’s a good idea, actually,” Darcy mused, looking back into the oven window. “And I’m glad, cause the hair thing is gross.”
“You’re not…upset?” Pietro asked with ginger words. He shuffled up to Darcy’s side as she straightened, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. He nodded slightly at Steve, eyes asking for assistance.
Steve snuck at hand under Darcy’s blouse and deftly unhooked her bra. Darcy sighed happily and relaxed between them, letting them perform their own kind of magic trick on the undergarment—ta da! It’s off!—and toss it quickly out of the kitchen. Her post-work ritual was nearly complete now.
“We know you don’t like love spells,” Steve said, brushing her hair off her neck so he could lean down and pepper kisses down the smooth length of it.
“It’s not a love spell,” Darcy said and then hummed and arched her head back for him. “It’s a lust spell. For lovers. Perfect birthday treat.”
Pietro grinned at this as if it had been his plan all along and the timer on the stove buzzed. Steve tugged Darcy away from their partner a little so Pietro would take the pans out of the oven. Darcy twisted in his arms, stepping up onto the tops of his shoes so she could stretch up and kiss at his jaw.
“Somebody better make me some chocolate frosting,” Darcy purred against his skin. Then she pulled away and scampered out of the kitchen. “I’m taking a bubble bath and putting something skimpy on while you two finish getting ready!”
“Steve likes the blue lace!” Pietro called.
“You like the blue lace,” she answered.
“So we both do,” Pietro muttered. “What’s wrong with that?”
Steve went to hunt down the powdered sugar and tried to resist the urge to go check on Darcy’s bath.