Chapter Text
There had been a plan born in the group chat late on a Sunday evening. Everything conceived to the last detail. Operation: Ashe & Friends Crush This Bake Sale was all ready to go.
Then the rest of the week happened. Ashe, of course, couldn’t be upset about it. Things out of their control seemed to happen to their group at an alarming rate. Magnets for trouble is what Mercedes said about them after an ill-fated winter afternoon spent stuck in a cabin. But meeting at Ashe’s apartment was hardly as bad as a cabin in the middle of the woods. They would have cell service and indoor plumbing, for one thing.
As Saturday morning came around, even Ashe’s sheer optimism was tested as he was left with only three helpers instead of the expected seven.
Magnets for trouble, indeed.
Felix bowed out with a text at one in the morning on Monday. No particular reason given, but Ashe didn’t need the gritty details. Felix wouldn’t flake for no reason. Maybe for a flimsy reason, but not for no reason. If he absolutely had to guess, Ashe would assume it was something to do with Lysithea. Felix was very private about his sort of relationship with her, so he didn’t press. He had enough to deal with, having an ornery Felix on top of everything else wasn’t going to help him.
Ingrid was next, at a reasonable hour and in person. Her mare back home at her parent’s farm was expected to give birth and she had to travel to help. Ashe refused her offer to pay for part of the ingredients and only made her promise to take a lot of pictures. And maybe name the baby after Loog.
Byleth? Well, they never actually confirmed they would show up. If it weren’t for the occasional thumbs up in the group chat they could easily be a figment of all their collective imaginations.
The worst blow was the morning of the planned meet up when he got a frantic call from Annette and Mercedes. Ashe had never heard so many consecutive sneezes over the phone–or anywhere else for that matter. From what he could understand through all the congested whining was that Annette caught a cold and shared it with Mercedes–because they share everything . Ashe made a mental note to bring them soup later.
So the Operation was off to a bad start, but not all hope was lost. He still had his rock. Dedue–kind, sweet, quick-handed Dedue–was more than enough help.
Oh. There were also those two guys.
Sylvain and Dimitri were extra hands to pack and clean, if nothing else.
It was just after ten o’clock in the morning when everything in Ashe’s tiny kitchen had been set up. Dedue had already arrived and gotten to work.
It was considerably later when Ashe’s doorbell rang again. So late, in fact, Ashe had assumed no one else was coming, but there outside his door were the motliest members of their motley crew. Dimitri was armed with baking supplies seemingly chosen from a blind box while Sylvain simply offered an apologetic smile that could bring the Goddess herself to her knees. So, who was Ashe to hold a grudge, really?
As they meandered into the kitchen, Ashe noticed several things that just seemed odd about them. Dimitri’s hair was more messed up than usual. Sylvain’s too, for that matter, and he spent more time on his hair than anyone Ashe had ever met. Then there was the touching. Just light touches. Sylvain’s hand on Dimitri’s back or gentle nudging of each other with their elbows.
But Ashe didn’t have the luxury of time to ponder a three percent increase in homoeroticism. They had cookies and cupcakes to decorate then pack away. His book club’s bake sale was still tomorrow, problems of the collective be damned.
They were a well-oiled baking machine by the time late afternoon met them; the soft orange light of the setting sun filtering through the tiny kitchen window–
“Dimitri, look.”
It was the pure, unadulterated glee that should have worried him.
“What is it, Sylvain?” Dimitri asked. He was concentrating on icing sugar cookies. It was objectively the simplest job, but Dimitri treated it with the same diligence he did everything.
“Just look,” Sylvain said. Ashe could see him holding something in his palm from the corner of his eye, waving it in Dimitri’s sight line like a child would try to show off their arts and craft project. They were nearly done here, Ashe didn’t have the energy to pay him any mind.
“Sylvain!” Dimitri nearly shrieked.
Ashe sighed. Now he had to look up from his pinwheel cookies.
Sylvain had, somehow, made a stubby little penis out of frosting and stuck it proudly on a cupcake. Honestly? It was kind of impressive, standing erect on its little cake base. Sylvain had somehow even mixed food dye to make it a surprisingly realistic fleshy color.
“Oh come on, don’t you think it’s a little funny?”
“You can’t just put a pen–”
“Just say dick.”
“Don’t put them on cupcakes,” Dimitri finished, gently pushing the frosting dick away.
“Sylvain–remind me to call you if we do a bake sale at the adult video store,” said Ashe. “But don’t waste frosting, or you’ll have to make more!”
And no one wanted to suffer through Sylvain comparing the viscosity of buttercream to other fluids again.
“Yes’sir, boss,” said Sylvain with a small salute.
That should have been the end of it, but Ashe knew better than to underestimate Sylvain Gautier.
“Dimitri, open wide!”
There was a yelp followed by a sudden projectile stream of white frosting shooting past Ashe’s face like a homing missile. The room went as silent as a mortuary. Ashe looked down to assess the damage, his body moving like he was being animated in stop motion. There was a long stripe of frosting going from one end of the counter to the other, ending at Dedue’s delicately crafted fondant flowers.
Ashe’s gaze followed the trail back toward a frosting bag firmly grasped in Dimitri’s hands.
On Dimitri’s cheek, like some sort of 3D face painting, was the stubby frosting penis.
“Sylvain!” squeaked Dimitri. The wee ween fell from his face onto the counter with a soft plop. Sylvain started laughing so hard Ashe was concerned he might keel over if he hadn’t thrown his arms around Dimitri’s shoulders for support.
Dedue salvaged what he could of the cookies and cakes that were in the “splash zone” while the rest of them cleaned up. Thankfully, they weren’t set back too much. Sylvain was still in a jovial mode even after being chided by their group for messing around.
He volunteered for solo dishwashing duty as penance so all was forgotten and forgiven.
At some point, Dimitri ended up by Sylvain’s side, seemingly of his own accord, and Ashe would swear he had never heard Dimitri laugh so carefreely. Not for a long time, anyway.