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“Two… five… ten… twenty.”
He paused and clenched his fists.
Twenty . That wasn’t even counting the missing box of macarons.
If Pastel de Nata could have an aneurysm, he’d have died a while ago. As it stood, he was immune to such mortal imperfections and sadly, that meant subjecting himself to the popular saying of ‘the cup runneth over’. In this case, someone was due for a fist to the face.
Oh, he knows where that bastard was. There’s only so many places he’d squirrel away the pilfered sweets in this place.
Ignoring the inquisitive looks he got from Coffee and Black Tea, he pulled off his apron and tossed it on the counter and stormed out of the kitchen. He pushed past a concerned Brownie and Chocolate quickly -knowingly- stepped aside. He marched out of the café and out to the small shed where Coffee kept the beans and extra sundry.
The door was slightly ajar, a sign that Pastel’s little thief was clearly inside. He opened the door none too gently and immediately beelined for the man with the stupid hat before he could fully turn around. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him up with strength he barely found any reason to use outside of a firefight.
“Sixteen tarts, four eclairs and macarons. Do you have any idea how much you set me back on my orders today?” Pastel growled out between gritted teeth. Napoleon Cake raised his arms in mock surrender, but the easygoing smile on his face showed he was not sorry in the slightest. Coupled with traces of cream on his chin and lips and Pastel had the sneaking suspicion he scarfed down all of the stolen pastries before he got here.
“They were pretty good as always~”
“You don’t even pay for them, you freeloader!”
Napoleon Cake let out a sigh and said placatingly, “Hey, we agreed to this. My manpower for your desserts. I’d say that was a fair paycheck for the last two commissions Brownie and I completed for the cafe’s side gig.”
Pastel’s frown deepened. He said, “I did not agree to that contract, Coffee did but you don’t get to dictate how many pastries you get to take from my shop to count as your ‘paycheck’ whenever you want.”
Napoleon made a noise and asked, “Shouldn’t you be happy a connoisseur like me deeply appreciates the work you put into your pastries?”
Pastel de Nata would be a liar if he said he didn’t. He liked being praised for his work, having repeat customers and knowing that his pastries brought smiles to his customers. Coming from Napoleon Cake however? He was the token exception to all that. Pastel forgot the exact reason why, he simply boiled it down to his gut feeling that Napoleon was nothing but trouble in his paradise.
Hassle. Napoleon and his bottomless obsession for sweets is the greatest hassle in his life!
Napoleon suddenly perked up, unbothered by the iron grip keeping him on his toes. “Compensation. You want compensation for whatever extra I took.”
Pastel considered and quickly un-considered lecturing him about that train of thought. “Unless you can cough them all out in one piece, I don’t see how your bright ideas can do anything.” Pastel grounded out. And even if Napoleon could miraculously spit them out as such, there was no way he was giving that to anyone else.
“Well, I do have one.” He sounded determined, jovially so. Pastel decided talking was no longer an option. He pulled back his fist and was ready to mete out ‘compensation’ on his own terms.
A moment he was about to let loose his fist, the next, Napoleon was up in his face. The sudden force of the shorter man pushing himself forward unbalanced Pastel and he stumbled backward. He landed with a loud thud, recovering quickly to see Napoleon looming over him and before he could react, Pastel felt lips close in over his own.
In that moment, his mind stopped functioning. Feeling lips over his own was a novel experience. Napoleon was surprisingly soft, though that might just be his lips moistened by the desserts he’s eaten. The shorter brunette pressed in eagerly into the kiss, straddling the other carefully.
A growl escaped Pastel’s throat and he grabbed a fistful of Napoleon’s hair and tugged him back. The logical decision was to push him off, but Pastel wasn’t exactly thinking straight in the heat of the moment. And the kiss unshackled some very intrusive thoughts he’d kept in the very back of his mind.
This damn bastard…!
There was only a split second of separation before Pastel leaned in and bit his lower lip, working it between his teeth before crashing their lips together, tasting iron and what he could only describe as ‘Napoleon Cake’.
Napoleon did not relent so easily. He mirrored the same aggression, sucking and biting Pastel’s as soon as the other would retreat. This in turn, made Pastel rise to the challenge and the cycle would repeat until both came down from their adrenaline.
Both parted one last time, breathing heavily. Pastel felt dazed, his mind trying to catch up to what exactly transpired in the last minute… five? He can’t muster up the strength to think. Napoleon sat on him, looking a little more put together but equally as bemused. Somewhere from then and now, he’d lost his hat and the pain from the initial bite was starting to set in, but he didn’t bother with it.
“Huh, you do taste better than the desserts you make.” Napoleon mumbled, with an uncharacteristically somber tinge to his easygoing tone.
It was then that Pastel de Nata shook himself from his stupor. He pulled his fist back and found himself immensely satisfied when it connected cleanly with the bastard’s face.
Chocolate peered into the room Brownie temporarily commandeered in order to treat Napoleon Cake. The man in question was covered in healing bruises, thanks in part to his constitution as a combat Food Soul, and looked surprisingly cheerful as Brownie gently fussed over him.
“I should make Pastel angry more often.”
Brownie’s fingers paused in applying the salve. Chocolate blinked and felt something going off in his head at the words.
“I mean,” Napoleon continued, unbothered and unfazed by the dawning horror on Brownie’s face. “He tastes better than any dessert I’ve had and he doesn’t want me touching his desserts too much so… I see that as a win.”
“Uh…”
Chocolate quietly moved away from the room and shook his head, smiling to himself.
Yep. Definitely not his problem to meddle with.