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George wiped his forehead with his hand, absently scattering flour across his face and the countertop.
“Damn,” he whispered to himself, “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” It was entirely his fault too, of course, but as were most of the things he did that ended up being difficult. Besides, who would believe it was Ringo’s fault that George was up at one in the morning making three dozen cupcakes. No, this was an entirely George-created, George-executed mistake.
To be completely fair, he could have done this the next day. But, he’d already arranged that he’d go shopping for other ingredients for a different thing he was planning to make tomorrow. So, middle-of-the-night baking didn’t seem to be that bad of an idea in comparison.
George turned the mixer back on, and the batter swirled together. He sighed in relief and attempted to ward off the sleep tugging at his eyes with another sip of coffee. When all the flour and sugar finally combined with the milk, eggs, and oil, George switched the mixer off again and unhooked the bowl. The batter was poured into the last pan, and when all three dozen cupcakes were in the oven, George sat down on the floor.
He leaned against the cabinets under their kitchen island, taking another sip of coffee and ignoring the gritty flour underneath of him. Even if this wasn't necessarily a bad idea, it hadn’t been a very smart one.
It was Ringo’s birthday, though, and he’d already spent one birthday in quarantine. George didn’t want to have to make it two. So he’d planned this very elaborate party, and made Ringo promise that he wouldn’t try to help, however much he wanted to. It’d be George’s project and responsibility.
So far, George was regretting saying that he’d do this all on his own.
He whipped his phone out to check the time. 1:34 am the screen flickered up at him. Still way too early. But this way, the cupcakes would be done and out of the way before George had to cook, clean, and decorate for tomorrow.
He texted Paul, knowing that his friend normally worked late.
you up?
A second later, the message popped up.
I’m a little old for hookups, Geo
haha, really, tho? not about to go to bed?
nah.
what’s up?
baking for ringo’s party
isn’t it a bit late for that?
better early than never?
I guess… but you shouldn’t out-do yourself, y’know. Ringo probably wouldn’t mind something smaller anyway.
George stared at the screen. Ringo probably wouldn’t mind it being just the four of them, but George still felt guilty. All this time that could be spent celebrating with other people had been taken away from them, and he knew his boyfriend must have missed the chaos and atmosphere of a real party.
He sat with his coffee on the dirty kitchen floor until the oven beeped, and took the cupcakes out to cool. They were perfect. George smiled down at them tiredly and began to clean up the kitchen.
A shuffling sound came from behind him as he reached for the broom, and he turned abruptly to see Ringo standing there. He was wearing one of George’s old t-shirts, and if that picture didn’t sell the whole little image of their life together, George didn’t know what would.
“What are you doing up?” George asked in a whisper tone. It was not an hour to be any louder than that.
“Could ask the same of you,” Ringo mumbled back. His raspy voice was heaven to George’s ears.
“You know why I am,” George said, a bit of a laugh in his voice.
“Mmm…” Ringo groaned tiredly, “Couldn’t sleep knowin’ you weren’t in bed with me.”
George smiled. “Baby…” He crossed the short distance to his sleep boyfriend and wrapped him up in his arms. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”
“Yeah…” Ring agreed, “Leave it for the mornin’, I’ll help. Come back to sleep. ‘S too early.” His words were muffled as he pressed his face into George’s chest, but that just made the scene feel that much more like a scene in a romance movie.
[The love interests hold each other in the dark, dirty kitchen, and music begins to play. They start to sway in time, then begin to dance faster. The taller spins the shorter around in a circle. He trips. They both start laughing. The music fades as we begin to zoom out of the scene. They’re at peace. We feel at peace.]