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Countless hours, days, and possibly even weeks spent in this infernal kitchen. Baking, throwing away, and baking again. Dozens of trips to the market — sometimes in a single day. Some people find baking to be cathartic, but not Jhin. Stress baking? No, no, baking stress is more like it. Just when he’s at his limit and he might set this entire place ablaze, he pulls the parchment away from the cake with great care and precision. There isn’t a single blemish, crack, or breakage — it’s perfect. A sigh of relief leaves their chest and they go to get the bowl of frosting to start decorating.
Throughout this entire arduous endeavor, Rakan has been there to eat the mistakes and compliment him along the way. Dreamily sitting at the counter watching Jhin pace back and forth during the baking time, throw the cake pan when something went wrong, and help them clean up the mess afterward. His presence was as encouraging as it was nerve-wracking. But they know that Rakan would never judge them for their mistakes nor make them into the butt of a never-ending joke about their failures of baking a simple cake.
When the final strawberry is placed atop the cake, Jhin steps back to admire their accomplishment. It’s a magnificent sight on the outside and he knows it’s just as perfect on the inside too. Was it worth all the agonizing? Perhaps not. But regret over the time wasted on it soon melts away.
“It looks delicious, baby,” Rakan says, moving to stand behind Jhin. “Sooo, who’s taking the first bite? I vote me.”
Jhin playfully nudges his shoulder into them. “I do believe I deserve to have the first bite. All this time, I never once tried a bite of any of the other failed cakes. You, sir, have eaten almost all of them,” he says, looking back at Rakan for a reaction. There’s a light blush on his cheeks and a smile creeps from ear to ear.
“We—ll, you are a good baker, they were worth every bite. But you have a point, go ahead! Taste the fruits of your labor, sweetheart.” Rakan gives them an encouraging kiss at the temple.
Taking a knife and a plate, Jhin serves themself a slice of the roll cake. They make sure the bite on their fork has all the bells and whistles on it before even considering eating it.
Sweet, soft, decadent.
The whipped cream frosting plays well with the vanilla and bitter-sweet strawberries. Light and airy, a testament to the amount of time and effort put into whipping the cream by hand and balancing the cake batter ingredients. He doesn’t bother with wiping away the corners of his mouth, he’s captivated by the taste. A small smile forms as they turn to face Rakan with a look of satisfaction.
Rakan cleans up their face with kisses and licks his own lips. “The frosting makes you even tastier than usual, you should take another bite like that so I can do it again.”
“Or,” Jhin starts,” You could have a slice of cake and enjoy it with me? I may return the favor.”
Feathered ears shoot up before he scrambles to get a plate and fork for his own slice. Jhin watches them, eagerly awaiting their response. Rakan mirrors Jhin’s first bite technique, making sure not to miss a thing. His eyes close and brows raise. There’s a low hum of pleasure at the back of his throat. Everything about Rakan’s body language is serene and trapped in the moment. It’s the first time Jhin can recall him ever savoring food instead of scarfing it down before the plate hits the table. It causes an overwhelming sense of pride to surface in his chest.
Several cups of tea and cake slices later, they sit at the kitchen table in a contented silence. The room is filled with the amber glow of the sunset, it carves out the sharp features of Rakan’s face by casting deep shadows along their cheeks and brow bone. His eyelids look to be getting heavier with each passing second. So Jhin extends a hand to him in order to guide him to the couch and spend the evening tucked away in Jhin’s arms as they stick their nose in a book for a few hours.
Idly, they stroke the top of Rakan’s soft, blond hair and only stop when they have to turn the page. There’s a second where Rakan shifts, stretching his arm across Jhin’s torso to hold them tighter — he must be dreaming. Light, muffled snoring can be heard before he buries his face further into them. With the warmth from his body blanketing Jhin in such a soothing way, it isn’t long until they start to drift off to sleep as well. Their book falls from their fingertips and their arm drapes over Rakan.
It’s been a long week, it’s time for a well-deserved nap.