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Andrew still isn't quite sure how he got roped into this.
At this time, during any other evening, he would likely be lying in bed right about now. Instead, he's being dictated to go to and fro from the bedroom to their living room, carrying pillows. Not only his own, but spares as well that he didn't even know they own until he dredged up from the back of the closet.
At least he isn't the only one toiling for once. William is also lugging items up and down the hall, mainly blankets and sheets. Andrew sighs as he tosses down the pillow. It feels as if they've made it into a sort of miniature competition to see who can bring in the most. They both have great stamina; despite Andrew's lean and nearly bony frame, what muscles he does have are hard from years of labor. But of course Will, with all his athletic prowess, is a force to be reckoned with; in fact, he doesn't even seem to be breaking a sweat at all as he hustles back and forth at a rapid pace.
"I'm finished." Andrew perches himself on the arm of the couch, staring down at the array of pillows and wondering what they're going to do with these.
"Already?" Will pops out from the hallway with yet another sheet in hand. Andrew finds his lips turning up at the corners slightly as he takes in the other's blue, yellow, white, and orange patterned pajamas. It makes him almost feel a bit plain in his own white and pale blue attire, though the gold accents do make up for it.
"I think that's enough." Andrew glances towards the pile of blankets stacked up next to him; he's fairly sure they only need one or two at most.
"True, but I want to have options." William plumps down on the other side of the couch, staring thoughtfully down at the ground. "How do we do this?"
"I don't know. I thought you knew!" Andrew crosses his arms. They fall quiet for a few minutes before Will shakes his head. "Well, it can't be that hard. Right?"
It winds up being substantially more difficult than either of them anticipate. The pillows are prone to falling back down as soon as they're stood up, and when they drape the blanket over it all, it knocks down several of the pillows anyway. Will seems to be enjoying the challenge, and though Andrew's knees are beginning to ache from scooting around on the ground, the other's energy is contagious, and he finds himself not at all minding the task. Besides, this is meant to be fun, isn't it? Andrew ponders that as he shoves a pillow back against the couch for the fifth time and gives it a warning stare.
"I think that's good!" Will announces with a loud huff as he stands back, startling Andrew, who barely stops himself from turning quickly and disrupting the whole structure. He clears his throat and steps back as well to stare at the product of their work.
It doesn't... look as impressive as he'd anticipated. It mainly still looks like a large pile of pillows with a blanket on top holding them all together and another underneath.
"Well... is that it?" he asks.
"Of course not!" Will shakes his head, though his tone is light-hearted. "Go on, get underneath."
Andrew gives the fort a dubious look but obeys, sliding himself under carefully. It's roomier than it looked from the outside, more like a tent than anything; there's enough room for him to sit up or lay down without his claustrophobia flaring up.
Will squeezes in next to him, and even though he fills up a lot of the space, there's still enough for Andrew to have his own privacy if needed. It's such a small thing, but he finds his chest tightening, knowing that Will has taken this care to make him feel comfortable without even saying anything.
Will is still speaking. "Okay, first we need..." He pauses and taps a devious finger to his chin. Andrew isn't sure whether he likes the look of that or not. "Food, right? I'm in the mood for cookies."
"We don't have any cookies," Andrew points out as he sits a bit stiffly against the back of the fort and closes his eyes.
"Hey, you're not allowed to go to sleep yet!" Will sounds petulant as a child as he reaches over to poke Andrew in the shoulder. "And I know that. That's why we're going to make them."
"What for?" Andrew huffs, pale brow drawing down as he does his best to brush off the idea.
He isn't fooling anyone; Will's lips split up into a crooked grin as he shakes his head. "Is this where you try to remind me that we're too old for this?"
Andrew flushes, remembering how he had insisted that several times before during the day but has secretly been looking forward to it anyway, and has never wished more that the lights were already off. His white skin, nearly transparent, does nothing to hide the rose spreading high across his cheeks, but he still looks to the side anyway, as if Will won't be able to see him if Andrew can't see him. Unfortunately, while the lights are dim, there's still enough filtering into their little fort. "No," he groans, giving in. "But..."
"Yeah?" Will leans back against the pile of pillows, seeming perfectly content to make this his new abode. Andrew is jealous of how easily he adapts.
"... You know you can't bake," Andrew says at last, when Will's eyebrow crooks up after he takes too long to respond. He feels a bit bad saying it out loud, but there's really no way to sugarcoat it... pun entirely unintended. He still recalls the last time Will attempted to wield the oven in his favor. The kitchen would have blown up if Andrew hadn't gotten there in time. Really, for someone who's an excellent cook, Will can't work his way around batter and sugar for the life of him.
William pouts and crosses his arms over his chest; Andrew watches from the corner of his eye as the motion makes Will's muscles ripple clearly, even under the cotton fabric of his pajamas. "It was one time," he points out. "Give me another chance."
"No," Andrew says bluntly, though he's already moving, crawling out from under the blankets so that he doesn't disturb their setup and standing with a grunt once he's free. "I'll show you how it's done, but you aren't allowed to touch anything."
Will watches him with a fond spark in his eye at the amount of care Andrew takes not to stir the precarious balance of the pillows. "Of course," he agrees, sliding out with considerably more difficulty. Thanks to his agility, though, the fort still manages to escape unscathed. "I'll leave it to you then, Mr. Baker Kreiss."
"That's Chef Kreiss to you," Andrew corrects him imperiously, squaring his sinewy shoulders as he stalks through the room and into the kitchen.
"Chef Kreiss, so sorry," Will agrees, clearly trying to hold back a giggle as his voice quavers. Andrew turns to glare at him, and Will immediately bursts out laughing, hand over his mouth doing absolutely nothing to muffle himself. Andrew finds his own willpower waning and catches a smile drifting onto his own thin lips. His first instinct is to suppress it, but when Will continues to grin at him without flinching away as many others had done in the past, Andrew lets himself cautiously relax, returning the smile fully before turning to continue the short trek to the kitchen.
"You should smile just like that more often," Will remarks as they pass through the doorway.
Andrew raises a brow, though of course Will, being behind him, can't see it. "I smile sometimes," he defends himself weakly. Usually when he's too caught up with something amusing or sentimental that Will had done to stop himself.
"Sure." Andrew can practically hear Will rolling his eyes. "Really, though. You're so pretty when you just relax and be yourself!"
"Pretty?" Andrew almost drops the metal bowl that he was retrieving from the shelf onto his foot at the word. He sets it down on the counter before any incidents can occur, fingers curling around the handle as he prays that Will can't see how red his ears are.
"Hey, don't tell me you still don't believe it." Will's voice softens as he reaches out, laying a heavy but comforting hand over Andrew's shoulder. It's something that Andrew might have shied away from once, but now he leans into it with a soft sigh.
"I'm telling you, you're gorgeous," Will says confidently. "And that's not just because I love you. I know people have said horrible things to you, but they're really not true." He turns Andrew slightly to face him. Andrew finds himself lost in warm brown eyes. "You're allowed to be happy, Andrew. Promise."
"......"
Will's heartfelt expression turns into one of panic as he realizes that Andrew is stuck between tears and speechlessness, mouth hanging open slightly and eyes rounded. "Hey, are you-"
"No! No, I'm... I'm fine." Andrew sniffs a bit too loudly, managing to suck the tears back in with a nearly inhuman effort. "I... thank you."
He says it quietly, no more than a mutter as he turns back to the counter. Will squeezes his shoulder again before stepping back to give him a bit of space. There's a few moments of comfortable silence between them before Will speaks up again. "So... are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help?"
***
Andrew does wind up giving in and allowing Will to help him with equipment and rolling the dough out, though he refuses to let the other anywhere near the actual oven. It goes far smoother than he anticipated; by the end of the process and following cleanup, the warm scent of vanilla, chocolate, and cinnamon are floating through the air.
Will hums in appreciation, stealing a glance over at the clock. "Reckon they're about ready?"
"Should be. Pass me the mitt, would you?" Andrew holds out a hand without looking as he crouches down to open the oven up. When he doesn't feel the thick fabric brushing against his hand, he pauses and glances over. Will is staring at the assortion of oven mitts, oddly silent. Or... wait.
Andrew shoots up and bustles over as quickly as he can to shoo Will away. "I said pass it to me, not snoop around!" he hisses, snatching the small square photograph from Will's hand and pushing it back behind one of the mitts. He honestly forgot it was there; he'd stored it there long ago, towards the beginning of their relationship. It's nothing special, simply a photograph of Will with his arm around Andrew; while the albino man's posture seems to say that he would rather be anywhere else, his expression is calm and his eyes are soft with rare contentment.
"You really kept that?" Will grins, but as Andrew glances over, he can see that the other is a bit misty eyed. It's his own turn to roll his eyes at how silly his partner can be sometimes. Perhaps that makes two of them, though.
"Why wouldn't I?" he answers carefully with a huff as he unhooks one of the other mitts and strides back to the oven to withdraw the tray of cookies. There are a dozen; four plain, four cinnamon, and four chocolate chip. He lays them out on the counter and admires how smooth they are.
Will half shrugs as he comes back around to peer over Andrew's shoulder. "I don't know. I figured, it's been so long..."
Ah.. It has, hasn't it? To Andrew, it feels as if it's been merely days. Sometimes, he still can't believe it- that he deserves this, that he has a new life now, that he is loved.
"Maybe you're just old," he says crisply, just so that he doesn't have to think about it too much more. "You sound like a grandfather. Now open up the freezer so I can put these in."
Will makes an offended face at his back but does as he's told, pulling back the door of the freezer to let Andrew slide the cookies in. "How long will we have to wait?"
"A bit," Andrew answers vaguely. In reality, he knows the wait time is supposed to be something around 24 hours, but he decides just enough time so that they aren’t burning their fingers will do.
In the meantime, he removes the oven mitt and directs Will to retrieve the icing, helping him to lay out the tubes across the counter in a straight line. By the time they've gotten all that sorted out, Andrew is growing impatient and fetches the cookies from the freezer. As anticipated, they're still soft and warm, but at least not scalding hot.
"Here." Andrew passes off some of the cookies to Will on a sheet of parchment paper. "Ice them how you want."
Will regards the tubes of icing slightly dubiously before taking them in hand with a grip that seems alarmingly strong. Andrew sighs and reaches over, carefully pulling at Will's hands with his own fingertips until they loosen up. "Not so tight. You'll bust them."
"Right... sorry." Will adjusts his grip, but not before reaching over with his other hand to squeeze Andrew's. Andrew coughs and pulls back quickly to snatch up one of the other icing tubes, though he doesn't miss the way Will's lips quirk up as he does so.
Andrew has never been good with the creative side of things. Every time he attempts to make something new or original, it comes out looking terrible. Perhaps that's just due to his own perspective, but he doesn't want to take any chances, so he sticks to traditional icing designs, mainly circles along the top and edges of the dough. As expected, the icing melts off the sides and turns into a blobby mess, but it isn't as if it really matters; they'll be eaten soon anyway.
There's a comfortable silence between them as they work. Will starts humming a slightly off-tune melody under his breath, and Andrew glances over at his cookies out of curiosity. He squints for a long second. "... Is that supposed to be me?"
"Oh!" Will looks up sharply. "I... yeah, it was supposed to be," he admits with a rueful chuckle, turning around the cookie for a better view. It has jagged white coming down from the top to resemble Andrew's bangs, two uneven dots for eyes, and white and blue smashed all over the bottom half to represent his clothes. Andrew is vaguely mortified by the fact that he finds it cute, though he doesn't know exactly how to respond.
Thankfully for him, Will isn't finished speaking. "But then I had to do one of me. Til death do us part, right?" he jokes, holding up another cookie. With this one, it's easier to tell that it's supposed to be Will, with a curved line for a smile and filled-in black for his locs.
"How are we supposed to eat those?" Andrew sighs. He almost shakes his head to let his bangs fall forwards in front of his face, feeling his lips threatening to split upwards; then he remembers what Will had said earlier, and allows the smile to tentatively bloom.
Will looks pleased and returns the smile. "What, is my work too beautiful for you to destroy?"
"I'd feel… a bit bad if I ate you. Just a tad," Andrew admits as he finishes icing his own cookies, which look rather plain now compared to Will's. Not that he's complaining.
"Well, I wouldn't." Will pops the cookie of himself into his mouth and bites off a piece at the edge before hissing through his teeth. "It's still hot..."
"What did you expect?" Andrew shakes his head as he reaches over to pluck it out of Will's hands, laying it carefully down next to all the others and sliding the pile from the parchment paper onto a large plate. "At least blow on it first."
"I think I burned my lip. Or my tongue," Will answers helpfully, wiping off his fingers on the edge of the paper before balling it up to toss it into the trash can.
"What do you want me to do about it? It's your fault," Andrew points out; then he feels a bit bad, wondering if his tone was too harsh for something more lighthearted. However, Will doesn't seem offended at all; instead, he pouts a bit in a way that clearly isn't genuine. "Kiss it better for me?" he suggests innocently.
Andrew flushes and puts the plate back down on the counter, just in case. He thinks about saying no, but really, would there be any point?
"... Just one kiss," he warns.
Will grins and sidles closer, closing his eyes as he waits. Andrew pauses; he's never been good at initiating any kind of physical contact, especially kisses. In the end, he leans forwards a bit and places his lips chastely onto Will's. He can taste the chocolate and cinnamon there, warm and enticing; when Will gently pulls him closer to kiss him deeper, he doesn't resist.
They part once the breath is gone from their lungs; Andrew licks his lips. "Better?" he asks, slightly hoarse.
"Much," agrees Will. He scoots around Andrew and snatches up the platter of cookies before Andrew even realizes what he's doing. "Come on," he calls over his shoulder as he strides out of the room. "We still have all night!"
Andrew thinks about asking what happened to sleeping, but he decides against it; they'll probably pass out by themselves anyway without planning it. "Be careful with those," he answers belatedly, picking his way after Will. He arrives back in the main room in time to see Will sliding back between the pillows, platter in hand, and exhales through his nose quietly. Even a couple of years ago, he never would have imagined that he'd be living this sort of life, and yet...
"Are you coming or not?" Will's feet poke out the opening of the tent as he lays back.
"Coming," Andrew huffs, stepping back into the room.
He really wouldn't change it for the world.