Work Text:
“I need a cake for this weekend.”
“I need a cake for this weekend, please,” Ian emphasizes the word “please” as he looks up from the cannoli case and comes face to face with the demanding customer. He lets the harsh tone slide as soon as he sees the man in front of him.
“What’s the cake for?” Ian asks, eying the man as he looks around the small bakery. He’s cute, more than cute really, but Ian is trying to control himself in the face of a customer. He guesses he could always blame his flushed face on the heat from the burners.
“My son is turning six.” The customer answers, helping himself to one of the free samples on the counter.
Ian tries not to let his face fall at the mention of a son. “Nice!” He says enthusiastically. “What is your son’s name?”
“Yevgeny.” The man relaxes slightly at the meet mention of the kid’s name. “Y-E-V-G-E-N-Y”
Ian smiles back as he writes down the spelling and moves on to the next checkpoint on the list. “Okay, so what’s the theme of the cake?”
The man blinks at Ian in obvious confusion. “Theme?” He asks in a bewildered voice, sounding as though Ian just asked him to fly a plane.
theme. noun. the subject of a talk, a piece of writing, a person's thoughts, or an exhibition; a topic.
“Theme,” Ian repeats with a nod. “Most kids that age like dinosaurs, airplanes, cars. What kind of party is it?”
Ian remembers his sixth birthday. He, Fiona, and Lip split a Little Debbie snack cake while their own little Debbie cried on a blanket next to them. Fun. Hopefully this child would have a better birthday than that.
“I don’t know, man. I was told to get a cake for a bunch of ankle biters.” He pulls out a piece of paper from his jeans and passes it to Ian. “I just want a sheet cake with his name on it.”
Ian takes the crumbled up sheet and looks at it. The instructions are pretty clear.
Go to bakery and order cake. Make it simple. Don’t fuck this up.
“That’s so boring. What does Yevgeny like?” Ian cringes as he completely butchers the child’s name. He only feels slightly better when the man finally cracks a smile.
“Yevgeny,” He repeats the name back slowly to Ian after he thinks about the question for a few seconds, making sure to enunciate the correct pronunciation, “has a thing for bears.”
It is finally something to work with, so Ian takes the suggestion and runs with it. “Bears!” Ian says excitedly. “Who doesn’t love bears? Black bears, polar bears, grizzly bears. They are fucking awesome.”
“You really like bears, huh?” The man teases as he raises an eyebrow at Ian. It makes him look younger somehow.
“Not really,” Ian says sheepishly. “I just get a little excited thinking about all the cake possibilities.”
There were so many possibilities. Making a bear out of icing or modeling bears out of chocolate or making a stream out of frosting and gel. The lists goes on.
The man snorts, breaking Ian out of his cake filled haze. “Loser.”
Ian grins easily. “Says the man who wanted a simple sheet cake with nothing but a name on it..”
“It would have said happy birthday too.” He argues before shrugging. “A cake’s a cake. It all goes in one way and out the other.”
“You clearly have never had a cake from The Gingerbread House.” Ian says, wagging his eyebrows. A Gingerbread House cake was so ordinary cake. Seeing as though the man has helped himself to about half a dozen of their complimentary cake bites, Ian thinks he’d agree. “You are right about the last part though. It all comes out the same way.”
The man is about to say something, but he is interrupted. “IAN,” Debbie cries as she comes out the kitchen in a tizzy, waving the bakery’s phone in her hand. “Ms. Cadenas called to say that her son is going to be here later today to pick up those cupcakes she ordered.”
That’s enough to tear Ian’s attention away from the man in front of him. “But they aren’t due until the morning,” Ian all but whines. This isn’t the first time Ms. Cadenas has used her elder status to get away with this kind of shit. If it wasn’t for the large tips and homemade casseroles she left in her wake, Ian probably would have told her to fuck off years ago.
Debbie gives him a look that tells him she probably agrees. “I know, but she was rambling about potential rain and having to start the party early or something, so they need them by tonight.” She grabs the notebook out of Ian’s hand, flashes a smile at the customer, and pushes Ian towards the kitchen. “I need you to go in the back and start on the frosting. I’ll finish this consultation.”
“Why can’t you do the frosting?” Ian asks between his teeth, gesturing towards the customer he’d been talking to for over twenty minutes.
“Because you frost faster than I do.” Debbie says obliviously before turning to face the man. “Hi, I’m Debbie! Sorry about the confusion, I’ll finish helping you out, Mr…..”
“Milkovich.” The man answers, looking at Ian. “Mickey.”
It’s only then that Ian realizes he’d never asked the guy’s name. Mickey Milkovich. It fits. Ian makes his way to the kitchen, only stopping to give Mickey a slight wave before he disappears behind the metal door. He doesn’t want to go, but duty calls.
He swears Mickey looks as disappointed as he feels.
It was never in Ian Gallagher’s five year plan to own a bakery with his little sister. The plan had actually been quite simple.
-
Summer school
-
Good grades
-
West Point
-
the Army
-
Officer
Bipolar disorder was never supposed to have a place on the list; it was never supposed to knock the Army off of the list.
It did though and that was when the whole list changed.
-
Bipolar disorder
That was it. That was the list.
It wasn’t until the day Debbie asked him for helped in the kitchen and Ian figured out that baking calmed his nerves and quieted the voices in his head, did the list change again.
-
Bake
The cake turns out great. (Of course it does.)
When Mickey comes back to pick up the cake, Ian makes sure he’s up front and center. He sees Mickey enter out of the corner of his eye and tries not to smile like a loon as he finishes up with the customer in front of him. Once the lady has her cannolis and her change, Ian turns to Mickey with a wide smile.
“I can’t wait for you to see the cake.” Ian all but shouts at Mickey, who in turn looks up from the display case, obviously startled by Ian’s overzealousness.
“Hello to you, too.”
“Right.” Be professional, Ian. Don’t look like a dumbass in front of the cute boy. “Hello, Mr. Milkovich. Are you here to pick up your order?”
“Mickey.” Mickey mumbles and then lets out an amused laugh. “Yeah, man. Show me this masterpiece.” He calls after Ian, who makes his way to the back room while flipping Mickey off.
It is kind of a masterpiece and the look on Mickey’s face shows Ian that he agrees. Ian beams as Mickey moves closer to the cake in awe.
Bears and chocolate were the main criteria for the cake and Ian knows he hit it out of the park. The cake is literally nothing but a giant grizzly bear head made out of chocolate cake and icing. The bear head seems to almost come to life the more he looks at it.
It’s the proudest Ian has ever felt about a cake, and Mickey’s astonishment only makes him feel better.
“Do you like it?” Even though Ian feels confident, Mickey’s opinion still matters.
“How the fuck did you do that?” Mickey asks as he reaches out to seemingly touch the cake. Ian swats his hand away before he can make contact with the icing.
“No touching!” Ian cries. “I want this to be perfect for Yevgeny.” He smiles when Mickey gives him a distracted thumbs up after pronouncing the little boy’s name correctly. (Ian may or may not have been practicing how to say the name for days.)
“This is so fucking awesome.” Mickey mutters again, still entranced by the cake.
“Do you feel bad for doubting me?”
Mickey finally looks away from the cake and snorts. “No.”
It makes Ian feel strangely good anyway. “As long as Yevgeny likes it.”
Mickey stares at the cake and then Ian for a few more seconds. “He’ll fucking love it.” He says confidently, pulling his wallet of his pants. “How much do I owe you?”
Mickey doesn’t need to know that Ian gives him the “Cute Customer Discount.” (If Mickey does figure it out, he doesn’t need to know that Ian started that discount because of him).
“You have any more birthday’s coming up?” Ian wonders casually as he hands Mickey his change. He doesn’t want Mickey to leave. Ever.
“Not for a while.” Mickey says as he shoves the money in his wallet. He smiles at Ian and winks. “Thanks, man.”
Ian doesn’t expect to see Mickey ever again.
He really doesn’t expect to see Mickey the next day.
“I dropped the cake!” Mickey yells as he runs into the bakery, the cake box from yesterday smushed in his arms.
It’s been a slow morning and Mickey’s sudden appearance startles Ian. “Huh?”
Mickey races over to the front counter and shoves the box into Ian’s arms. “I was picking the cake up from my sister’s apartment and I fucking dropped it.”
Ian feels like he’s been hit between the eyes. “You what?!” He tears open the box to see the damage. Sure enough, the bear has half a face.
“What the fuck, Mickey? I worked forever on this thing. I thought one of your instructions was to not fuck this up!” Ian cries, still focused on the now mangled masterpiece in front of him.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, asshole! Why the fuck would I intentionally drop my son’s birthday cake?” Mickey yells at him before taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. When he speaks again, it’s in a much calmer voice. “Can you fix this?”
Ian, still looking at the cake, sighs deeply. “I don’t know…”
Mickey interrupts him, pleading. “I’ll fucking do anything. Please.”
Ian finally looks up at Mickey and sees nothing but a desperate man. His mind is instantly made up. “Okay. I’m going to need some help though.” He looks at Mickey pointedly.
“From me? Where the fuck is your sister?” Mickey says, looking around the empty bakery desperately. “I don’t know how to fucking bake.
“She has the day off.” Ian tells him. “Besides, you were the one to fuck up the cake, you are the one to fix it.” He grabs an apron off the back shelf and tosses it at Mickey.
“Let’s do this, Milkovich.”
It’s a little lopsided, but the cake once again turns out great (Of course it does.)
“Thank you.” Mickey mutters as Ian carefully places the new cake in the box. “I’m sorry about all this shit.”
It’s been a long few hours and they are both covered in flour and icing, but Ian still smiles easily at Mickey. It’s kind of hard for him not to. Mickey haS showed another side of himself today, a father willing to do anything for his son, and it only makes Ian fall for him more.
“It’s okay. We fixed it.” Ian waves his hands theatrically at the cake. “It’s perfect again.”
Mickey finally relaxes and returns the smile with the same ease. He starts digging around in his pockets and pulls his wallet out. “Let me give you some more cash.”
Ian shakes his head. “Fuck that. It’s fine. In fact, I should probably pay you for being my apprentice today.” He turns around to grab a towel, handing it to Mickey after he damps it. “You’ve got flour everywhere.”
Mickey wipes himself off and makes his way over to Ian. He leans in close to Ian and wipes at a spot on his face. “You too, asshole.”
Before Ian can think, he is reaching out and pulling Mickey towards him. Their mouths crash together, and it takes Ian a few seconds to realize what he’s done. Just as he is about to pull back and brace for the punch to the face that will most likely follow, Mickey’s tongue is pushing into Ian’s mouth and sliding against his own. Ian lets out a surprised noise before gripping Mickey’s hips tightly and pulling him in closer.
The kiss seems to last forever, and is only interrupted by the sharp ringing of a cell phone. The loss of body heat against Ian is sharp and sudden, and he stares at Mickey through a fog as the other man answers his cell phone breathlessly.
“I’m on my way.” Mickey barks as he snaps the cell phone closed and looks at Ian. He nods slightly at Ian’s stunned look. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks again.”
With that Mickey grabs his cake and leaves the kitchen, leaving an overwhelmed Ian in his wake.
Well, fuck.
Now, Ian really never expects to see Mickey again.
He really really doesn’t expect to see Mickey the next day.
This time, he has a child with him. The kid is adorable and it’s easy to tell that he’s Mickey’s son. It was all in the eyebrows.
“Hi!” The boy calls as he makes his way over to Ian. He holds out a piece of paper for Ian.
Ian takes the card from the little boy, trying not to look at Mickey. He instead focuses on the card in front of him and almost melts.
It’s a card addressed to the “Great baker” who made the “best cake in the whole wide world!” Ian smiles as he looks at the drawings of cakes and bears that plaster the card.
“You must be Yevgeny.” Ian says. “You liked the cake?”
Yevgeny nods and starts to talk really fast. “It was the best cake in the whole world. I got three pieces because it was my birthday!” He turns to his dad in excitement. “Right, Daddy?”
Ian finally turns to Mickey, who is grinning down at his son and nodding. “Yeah kid, there was chocolate all over your face.” Mickey leans down and flicks Yevgeny on the nose. “You even had some on your nose.”
Ian feels some of the tension in him melt at the sight. “Hey, Yev. Do you want some free cookies? Boys who are six get free cookies.” He reaches into the display case and pulls out three cookies for the boy. “These are my favorites.”
Yevgeny screams in delight as Ian hands him the treats and races over to a table to eat them. His absence leaves Ian and Mickey alone for the first time.
“Thanks for that.” Mickey says softly, obviously feeling the tension. “He might insist on making you another card now. That kid is just way too nice.”
“He’s pretty cool.” Ian reaches into the display case and pulls out a black and white cookie. “Do you want a free cookie too? You’re not as cute as Yevgeny, but think of it as an apology for yesterday.”
Something had to give, and what better than a cookie to make things better again.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Mickey says around a mouthful of cookie. “I was the one who dropped the cake in the first place, and then ran out of here like a jackass.”
“Oh,” is all Ian says in response, not wanting to get his hopes up. Mickey’s statement can be taken in more than once ways, and Ian was going to let the other man fill him in.
“You taste like vanilla and sugar. Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?” Mickey adds casually, smirking at the shocked look on Ian’s face. “You keep shoving more free cookies at me, I’ll be hell of a more tempted to do it again.”
Ian scrambles to grab all of the cookies he can hold and practically shoves them into Mickey's hands.
“Here. Have another cookie.”