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"Ouch! Damn it," yelled Chris. He dropped the pie pan on the floor beside him and sucked his hand between thumb and forefinger. "Ow."
It wasn't worth a trip to medical, but it was going to blister.
He rested his hands on his knees and glared at the portable oven. He'd been fighting the damn thing for hours. It was old - he'd brought it back from his parents' garage, and it probably hadn't been turned on in fifteen years. But beggars can't be choosers. He wasn't technically supposed to have an oven in the dorms at all, so it had to be small enough to stash under the bunk bed.
He was thinking about turning it into scrap metal after today.
It wasn't big enough to fit a whole cookie sheet, so he was using a pie pan and baking the cookies three at a time. The first batch had melted together into a chocolate peanut butter pancake because he hadn't chilled his dough. An hour later he'd tried batch two, which baked unevenly, gooey on top and dark and crusty on the bottom. He'd eaten those.
Third time's a charm, he told himself.
The third batch was burnt.
And he was running out of dough. He had enough left for a cookie and a half, at a generous estimate.
He sighed and shoved the bowl aside. He didn't know why he was fighting a piece of junk technology and his own obviously crappy baking skills to make something he could get from any synthesizer in the cafeteria.
But he had called Phil's sister to get the recipe. It was their family holiday tradition. He'd wanted to surprise him by doing this himself.
The door opened and he scrambled up in a panic, but there was no time to hide anything.
Thankfully it was just Gabe Lorca, coming back from the gym.
"I can smell that from the hall," said Gabe. He tossed his bag on the bottom bunk and headed for the bathroom.
"Great," said Chris, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck in frustration.
"I'll eat the burnt ones," Gabe called from the bathroom.
"Go right ahead."
"What's it for?"
"I wanted to surprise Phil."
Gabe came out with his hair wet from the sink and a fresh towel around his neck. "He'll be surprised all right."
"Don't."
"Wow, I don't remember the last time I saw you lose your sense of humor. You weren't this pissed after five days of survival training."
"Survival training was a piece of cake compared to this," growled Chris, giving the oven a little kick.
Gabe reached down for the pie pan and hissed.
"It's hot," said Chris.
"Thanks for the warning, man." He picked it up with his towel and started prying a cookie off the surface of the pan.
Chris slid back down to the floor and leaned against the bunk bed, knees up, arms propped up.
"You could give him something else," said Gabe, holding the slightly blackened cookie up in the light and turning it like a scientist examining a specimen. "Just a suggestion."
The loud crunch made Chris wince. "Like what."
"I've got a bag of fortune cookies I brought back from downtown. Those are kind of romantic."
"Are they?"
"They can be." Gabe sat down in Chris's desk chair and started scraping the second cookie off the pan.
Chris leaned forward and buried his face in his crossed arms. "Am I just a born loser?"
"Real captain material there," said Gabe dryly. "A batch of cookies has you ready to rethink your life."
Chris gave him what he hoped was a withering look.
"Go take a jog, Chris. You'll feel better when you get back."
"No." Chris stood up and took a deep breath. "He'll be finishing up his ER shift in thirty minutes. Give me a couple of those fortune cookies."
-
He opened a window and aired out the room, hoping the smell of burnt chocolate wouldn't last.
He melted the last of the chocolate chunks in a bowl, dipped two fortune cookies carefully, and put them on a plate in the minifridge to chill.
He stowed the cooling oven back under the bed, stuck the bowl with the last of the dough in the fridge, and did his best to scrape the pie pan off in the bathroom sink while Gabe laughed at him.
His hands were still wet and his clothes and hair a mess when Phil knocked.
"That's my cue to leave," said Lorca, grabbing a bag of chips. "I'll be at the bowling alley with Pippa and Matt if you need me."
"I'll be fine," said Chris, gritting his teeth.
Gabe patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I know Phil's a catch, but so are you. Don't sell yourself short, dumbass." He opened the door and gave Phil a salute as they passed each other. "Have fun, boys."
Phil came in with a bouquet of something stunning wrapped with a red silk ribbon. He'd changed since the end of his shift and was pulling off a 2220s style navy blue turtleneck with enviable ease.
"Oh." Chris glanced down at his flour-dusted t-shirt and froze, tongue-tied.
Phil laughed. "It's flowers, not a grenade."
"Thank you." Chris felt his face growing hot as he took the flowers. "These are really - wow."
"Vissian lilies," said Phil, his eyes sparkling. "On Earth, they only grow in private botanical collections."
"You didn't have to go to all that trouble for me."
"I wanted to." Phil sniffed as he reached the middle of the room. "What's the smell?"
"Oh, I was just messing around earlier. I, uh - here." He set the lilies on his desk and opened the fridge to grab the chocolate-dipped fortune cookies.
"Were you baking?" Phil peered over his shoulder at the bowl of leftover cookie dough.
Chris sighed. "If you have to know, I was trying to make cookies for tonight. I ruined three batches."
An uncontrollable snort of laughter. "You are so damn cute." Phil glanced around the room. "What the hell were you baking them on, the coffee maker?"
"Contraband," said Chris. The air felt cold on his ears and the back of his neck. "Portable oven. It's a piece of junk. It was your grandma's recipe," he admitted.
"You're kidding." Phil reached around him and pulled the cookie dough out of the fridge. He stuck a finger in and tasted it.
Chris looked up to see a smile spreading across Phil's handsome face.
"Tastes just like I remember." Phil set the bowl on the desk beside the flowers.
He put his hands on Chris's waist and pulled him close. Kissed him on the lips. "Did they tell you I used to get in trouble for eating it straight out of the bowl?"
"No." Chris smiled a little, the first time since Phil had walked in.
Phil's hips and thighs were pressing against his. "I always liked it better that way."
"You can have the rest if you want," Chris said, muffled a little by Phil's lips against his mouth.
"Let's split it." Phil grabbed a fingerful and held it up to Chris's face.
Chris took it in his mouth and sucked, mesmerized by the feel of Phil's finger curling on his tongue. "Mmh." The sweet, buttery, melting dough, the closeness of Phil's body, the faint spice of his cologne, the look in his eyes - it put a flutter in the bottom of his stomach and made his head swim.
Phil ate a spoonful and kissed Chris with his mouth still half full. The grit of sugar and the slide of butter were everywhere.
Come to think of it, Chris could have done a more thorough job of mixing.
A hand squeezed his ass and sent waves of heat through him. His heartbeat soared. The other hand reached behind his head, and Phil jammed their faces together, kissing him hard.
A whimper pushed its way up Chris's throat. He grabbed and kissed back.
Phil let him go and picked up one of the fortune cookies. Chris was hot and bothered now, tingling and warm all over.
"Let's see what my fortune is," Phil winked. He cracked it open and popped the cookie in his mouth, one half and then the other.
He squinted at the paper. "What you seek is within reach." He eyed Chris teasingly. "I wonder what that means."
Chris couldn't help grinning back. He lost control of himself whenever Phil smiled at him. It turned him into a soft-headed, mushy-hearted mess.
"What's yours say?" asked Phil.
Chris opened it. "Joy will be found in the unexpected."
"I like the sound of that," said Phil.
"Yeah?" Chris took the whole cookie in one bite.
"Yeah." Phil took the fortune out of Chris's fingers and set it back on the plate. "I might even have an unexpected thing or two up my sleeve tonight, if you're up for it."
Chris's insides turned back to liquid heat. "I'm up for it."
Phil kissed him again, laced his fingers through Chris's, and paused. Looked down. "What happened to your hand?"
Chris blinked. Embarrassment crept through him again. "I burned it on the pan."
"You should put something on it."
"I don't have anything. It's okay." He reached for Phil's mouth.
"I do." Phil pulled back. "If you don't mind coming back to my place."
"It's really not that bad."
"Chris. Do it for me," said Phil in that low, husky voice that made Chris weak at the knees.
Words escaped him for a moment as the whole world tipped slightly and butterflies went wild against his ribcage.
"Okay," he said, breathless, and Phil laughed.