Work Text:
You inspectionated the labor of your callused fingers. A drop of sweat ran down your forehead, both from the oven's heat and your own tension, as you wiped your sticky hands on the pink apron. You placed your hands on your waist, a relieved huff followed by a content smile. They could not be perfect, but admiring the tiny pieces brought a fuzzy little warmth that almost made the dark splotches behind them invisible. Only almost though.
The calendar marked the 14th of february; it was slightly covered in chocolate, but it was the cleanest thing on your side of the kitchen.
A mix of cocoa and sugar scent floated around, playing with your nostrils. It took an iron will to not run away with a fresh batch and lock yourself in the bathroom until your stomach called quits, but it wasn't worth your kitchen partner's disapproval.
“Great job, Y/N!” Michelangelo said, admiring your decorated goods. The icing details were a bit shaky on the first batch, but your small improvement over each one was visible. “The others are gonna love it, these look amazing!”
“Thanks, Mikey! How did yours-” You moved your gaze to look at his chef work, any smidge of pride leaving instantly. “-Turn out. Oh, now that’s just unfair.”
Colorful and steady spirals painted the otherwise simple bonbons. Small hearts drawn with white chocolate looked so similar to each other that one could mistake it for made by machine. Placed around the simpler ones, strawberries in the shape of roses popped out on their own while acting as a picture frame.
“Michael, they are incredible!” You couldn't find better words. It was like a total normie staring at a piece of art and being asked to evaluate it.
He smiled wild and proud.
“I went all out with these. Dad will have the best Valentine's chocolate, just like in Japan!”
Michelangelo patted a folder laying on the kitchen table. Every time you came down to the lair over the last week, he was working on that thing; collecting pictures of over the top decorations, the type you only expected to see in cake boss and other bakery shows, just to admire and never to be made. He also had only the best homemade chocolate recipes in there, making a point to search foreign kinds. It was a pain to find him some fresh cocoa, but you managed.
“I think that you actually did better than anything he ever had.” Once again, you glanced at the artwork in food form. Were they sparkling like this before? “By a long shot.”
“Awwwn, thanks!”
Mikey took his masterpieces and your little attempts and placed them in plastic bags with color coded bows with valentine's cards attached.
The corner of your eye caught a lonely little bonbon, and very slowly, you reached for it, only to be met with a sharp look from over the shoulder.
“No, no, no! No stealing!” He waved his finger.
“Ah, come on dude! Just a itty, bitty, tiny one!” You frowned your browns and trembled your lip. If your eyes were as big and shining with need, maybe the master cook would take pity on you. “Pretty please?”
You saw a man's will shiver. He looked at you like you were a kicked puppy, a puppy who would be so happy with just a bit of chocolate.
“Well, maybe just one-” He snapped his neck in the opposite direction, eyes closed tight and his breath was heavy. “No! No, no, no! You're not gonna get through me! My heart is an impenetrable fortress!”
“Well, dammit. I tried.”
Dip your fingers in the bowl's remains it is. A sad attempt, Mikey left almost none.
“I-” He swallowed. All of a sudden, his shoulders stiffened, and he changed his weight from one foot to the other way too fast. "I will give yours later, okay?”
You grinned.
“Oh? You made one for me?”
“Yes! Of course I did-!” He closed his mouth, it was weird, he seemed to stop mid sentence. “I-I’ll give those to the others. Be right back!”
“Okay, I will…”You looked around the sweet pandemonium. “Start cleaning, I guess.”
“Thanks, you’re the best!”
And he left in a rush.
You washed pots and mixers, as well many, many , brown stains in every little corner. The calendar was a lost cause, no way you would take those blurs out of paper. February and a bit of March would stay sweet months.
Opening the drawer to put away the kitchen utensils, under dishcloths, a piece of pink stuck out.
Moving the bowl with smaller bowls to one hand, you removed the cloth to reveal it.
For a moment, your brain forgot its breathing protocols.
Under the many lairs, wrapped in a golden plastic bag with an orange bow, was a big, heart-shaped chocolate. Pink and white icing played around in a masterful mixture of hues. The same strawberry roses showed themselves in abundance, this time dipped in white chocolate. The middle of the heart read: ‘ Be my valentine? ’.
Attached to the bow, was the pink card, sealed with a Jupiter Jim special Valentines edition sticker.
It’s recipient? The cursive handwriting said it was…
You.
The bowl slipped out of your hand and hit the goring with a thud.
The card was for you. How could something like this be for you?
You took the chocolate, unsure fingers ran around the silk orange bow before landing on the card paper with strawberry scent.
Could it be? It was possible, wasn't it? No one else would know how to do anything so beautiful like that. But other person could have asked him to do the chocolate so they could deliver it… but even the handwriting…
Heart on your throat, you dared to remove the Jupter Jim sticker. But movements stopped when you heard steps.
“Okay, all done! I told you they would love it. But I think Raph’s gonna have a stomach ache 'til bedtime. Oh, and thanks for cleaning the-” He laid eyes on you, then on your hands, and froze in place. His pupils sifted from the round and delightful shine to slits. “-Kitchen.” His face went three paler shades of green before coming back very much red. You swore to have heard a low frequency scream.
“I’m sorry!” you said, face growing hot. So it was his after all . “I was putting things away and saw the pink paper in the drawer and- I’m so sorry. I’ll put it back”
Mikey waved his hands in front of his chest.
“No! No, no, no! Don’t!” You stopped. Michelangelo looked around the place, either trying to learn how his own kitchen looked or avoiding you. He took a deep breath. “It’s… It’s for you. Don’t put it away.”
“Oh… Okay.” You held it close to your chest, the vibrations of your blood rush made the chocolate heart pulse like a real one. “Can… Can I read it?”
He looked down, lips pressed together, and nodded.
You opened the envelope.
“Dear Y/N,
You shine above it all
The Sun wonder why it tries
For all I need is your smile
Love, Michelangelo”
In the blank space of the paper, a drawing of you stared back with a content grin, surrounded by roses and sunflowers.
That pencil work was more beautiful than anything mirrors could ever show. It was you, a perfect you, that could only be seen through rose filtered eyes. His eyes .
“Michelangelo…” A sudden sting in your eyes as they grew wet.
“I tried a haiku. You know, Japanese Valentine and all…” He twiddled his fingers, seeming much more interest in his hands than in your reaction. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you, so writing it down sounded easier.”
“Making a big, artesal, decorated heart-shaped chocolate was easier too?” you asked, face still warm but with a slight grin.
The corners of his mouth went up just a bit.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
You rolled your eyes.
"Oh, Mikey."
You walked over to him, holding onto your wonderful gift, and threw your arms around his shoulders, not taking long to feel a response, as he wrapped you so tightly it was hard to breathe. Nothing could take the smile away from your face. It didn't matter that your cheeks started to hurt, or that Michelangelo held you with enough strength to make your bones crack. It could not be any other way.
You searched his eyes. His wonderstruck, radiant eyes.
“Yes,” you said, leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. “I will be your Valentine.”