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Lucifer pulls his hair back into a pitiful ponytail at the base of his neck, smearing both silvery strands and his flesh with cake batter and other assorted pastes. Strewn about, his kitchen was nothing short of abject chaos, several dozens of eggs finding their doom at the hands of the inept baker, a pile of white dust somehow on the floor ten feet away from the actual bag of flour, and vanilla splashed against the refrigerator in a moment of comedic, infomercial levels of cohesion.
He’s utterly in control. He’s a functioning adult. He can make a cake for his perfect, beautiful, intelligent, pastry chef in training boyfriend and not cry more than three times over yet another ruined Christmas cake. This shouldn’t be this hard, you just measure the things out and pour them into a bowl and mix it together and present it to your very grateful lover. How it would remind him of the years he spent in Kyoto, Christmas’ spent alone but the desire to copy his favorite cake back in the states leading him down a career path of his choice?
Lucifer sniffles, wiping his eyes against his wrist before turning back to the oven and at the utter destruction that is his latest attempt at making sponge cake. The edges are far too brown yet the center is gooey and underbaked, resembling chowder inside a bread bowl. Time has run short, with the object of his affections expecting him in a half hour, there's no time to bake the cake over again, but maybe if he carves out the middle and fills it with whipped cream and fruit, Sandalphon won’t notice…
But he will, because of course he will. Maybe he won't spit it out in Lucifer’s face but he’ll give that polite smile, lips pressed thin against his teeth as he reconsiders their relationship.
What option does he have though? Show up empty handed?
The cream spreads relatively well, through when he tastes it he realizes he left out the vanilla and he runs out of it halfway through the final layer, leaving slightly burnt cake exposed at the feet, but otherwise it looked like a Christmas cake. Minus the uh...everything. Now, he knows the strawberries are traditional, but after a confusion of flavored whipped cream for strawberry whipped cream that turned into a soupy, curdled mess he had to dispose of in the sink.
So naturally, he cuts up a pineapple.
*~*~*~*
“Mrry Crismas, Lucfr!” He’s drunk. He’s very much drunk and Lucifer can’t quite place how, as Sandalphon buries his face into Lucifer’s coat, oblivious to the cold outside, a blush warm across his cheeks and a smile set haphazardly on his lips. The revelry has already begun for him, his classes ending earlier in the day and promptly going out to the local bar with his fellow pastry students, throwing back the sweetest sounding vodka they could buy. Three shots didn’t seem like much until after he sat on the couch waiting for his partner to arrive and the warm, delicious haze of alcohol slowly dripped into his consciousness.
Lucifer wraps his arm around him in an awkward rendition of a hug, clutching the white box tied with rough string into a neat bow to his chest protectively. “Sandalphon, are you okay?” He worries sometimes. Sandalphon may not drink much- but when he does his inner lush can sometimes overindulge, and ‘tis the season for overindulgence.
“Fiiiiine, fiiine babe, you smell so nice~like cake.” He gives a dramatic gasp. “Did you have cake without me?” Crimson eyes tear up, emotions of jealousy amplified into papliable feelings on Christmas Eve. “You’re so meaaaaan,” he pouts.
Lucifer gives a nervous chuckle as he leads Sandalphon back inside, shutting the door and kicking off his shoes. He checks the box for any dents before realizing that the dents would make it look better than it already does.
In the seconds between those actions he’s already lost sight of his slim lover in the small apartment, which is fragrant with onion and herbs from the dinner he cooked before getting absolutely smashed. Possibly he’s gone into the kitchen where he hears rattling but that could possibly be Vaskui, the milk white snake he was watching while his roommate Shiva flounced off to vacation.
Lucifer peered in and waved to the harmless noodle resting under its heat lamp, his attention drawn to the living area as Sandalphon stretches on the couch, his body languid and heavy with alcohol. When he spots Lucifer, he brightens as if this were the first time in a week, but in reality it’s only been four minutes.
“Lucifeeeeeer!” He opens his arms for a lunging hug but he misjudges his own weight and ends up flopping back onto the cushions, the throw pillows bouncing under his force.
“Sandalphon, are you sure you’re alright?” Lucifer worries when Sandalphon seems to have trouble pulling himself back up, giving up after the third try. Gazing up from a fringe of brown, the smaller man clutched a cushion against himself, tight enough he was probably about to make the thing burst at the seams. His face is deliriously happy and Lucifer questions how many shots he downed at whatever bar but it’s interrupted by Sandalphon keening,
“Mmm’ fiiineee! Yre here noooww!!”
Lucifer really couldn’t help himself, worry quickly overridden with overwhelming adoration. He was so in love with this man it almost hurt his heart to look at him. He can feel the heavy thud against his chest with every beat, lead against squishy, fragile flesh.
Setting the cake box on the coffee table, he tried to sit in the gently worn armchair...only to find himself pulled onto the couch by surprisingly strong but lanky arms. Sandalphon quickly crawled into his lap; well, not exactly. He more half-draped himself over Lucifer, trying to touch as much of his boyfriend as he could.
“Luccccciii.” His voice is undoubtedly suggestive despite the less than suggestive pose they found themselves in, limbs akimbo and awkward. There’s nothing sexy about his bleary look, eyes a touch bloodshot and lips tripping over simple sentences, but Lucifer finds the attempt adorable. Sandalphon smacks his face into Lucifer’s shoulder, sniffing loudly. “You smell good.”
“Oh, ah. It’s cologne. Do you like it?”
“Mmmm shitty vsnilla.”
Lucifer can’t help his eyes, twitching to the box sitting innocently on the well-loved coffee table with Sandalphon’s eyes following and blowing wide with curiosity.
“What’s it!?” Sandalphon said, grabbing the box and shaking it. “A present? Hhhmmmm dosnt sound ‘ike a ring…”
The comment made the older man blush, before quickly grabbing the box. “Uh- It’s um-“
“Shoow meeeee!!”
Lucifer was sweating bullets, Sandalphon almost crushing him as he tried to grab at the box, leaping at it with clingy hands. No way! There was no way he could show this to Sandalphon! Not this monstrosity.
Sandalphon tears at the ribbon, clawing desperately at his gift much to Lucifer’s dismay.
Silence and and a sudden stillness disturbed him. Looking at Sandalphon, he felt his heart start to crumble.
Sandalphon was most definitely drunk and overreacting, but that didn’t make the tears any less painful to see.
“It’s- it’s a Christmas Cake.” Sandalphon chokes out, eyes wet and trembling.
Blinking back tears, Lucifer looked at him with a look almost childlike. “R-really?”
Hesitantly, he nodded.
His admission had the exact opposite effect than he was expecting- the tears just kept coming .
“Sandalphon why are you-“
Gripping to his sweater, Sandalphon buried his head in Lucifer’s shoulder, softer this time, the cake clutched to his chest “T-that’s, cwute! I luv it! I luvvvv you!” His blush seems genuine, skin flushed and eyes sparkling with mirth. “Let’s ewat!”
Wh…
“What? No, Sandalphon–!” Sandalphon is already digging his finger into the frosting, taking underbaked crumbs with it and jabs it directly into his mouth.
He promptly retches.
*~*~*~*~*
The man beside him shifted, gradually stirring up from his slumber and into his hangover. The couch feels too hot and extremely hard and the shots he drowned so willingly last night seemed like his greatest mistake.
“Good morning, Sandalphon. Merry Christmas.” Lucifer hums, running his fingers through his hair, laying a kiss on his forehead.
“Uuuuugghgghhhhhhhhhh,” Sandalphon lets out a gurgle of sounds that sound vaguely painful.
That was enough of an answer. “What do you want for breakfast?” Lucifer asks knowing damn well that he would request something strange.
“Death.”
“Hmm… no. Can’t allow that.”
Groaning some more, Sandalphon’s arm clutched his stomach. “What the fuck did I eat…”
Lucifer swallowed, avoiding the pressure of Sandalphon’s gaze even though it wasn’t upon him.
“J-just something that tastes like a bedding set or plastic.” Sandalphon groans in the light of the sun, curling up into Lucifer’s chest.
Eventually Lucifer does pry himself off of Sandalphon’s death grip and they dispose of the cake themselves, both coming to terms about Lucifer nearly killing his boyfriend in the name of gift giving.
Sandalphon never said he didn’t appreciate the effort though...
The second he displays any interest in making another cake, Sandalphon immediately demands that they go to Lucifer’s house, take all of his baking paraphernalia and set fire to it in a pineapple scented Christmas blaze.