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It wasn’t often Shouta woke up in the middle of the night with the unrelenting urge to bake. In fact, it had never happened before. And so for the first time, Shouta rolled out of bed with intent to make a cake. There was just one minor issue.
He is a walking fire hazard.
So far, all of Shouta’s attempts to better himself in any regards of culinary or confectionary crafts had proven catastrophic. So much so his husband placed a ban on his entry into ‘his’ kitchen. He was allowed to sit at their window bar and observe the master at work, but for no reason whatsoever was he to enter whilst food was being prepared. If he need something, he had to ask, because breaking his restriction would result in several shooing swats with the nearest utensil (usually a wooden spoon or plastic spatula).
However, they were not at home, and the kitchen at hand was not his husband’s. Thus, the rules did not apply. So he pulled out his phone and looked up the most basic cake recipe he could find.
“Super simple cake recipe,” he muttered to himself, tapping on the website and going to the recipe. He didn’t have to worry about them not having the ingredients. They were always fully stocked on baking supplies for Satou. A quick glance told him that, “for the best results, leave ingredients out for one hour til room temperature,” so that’s what he did. Pulling out all the ingredients listed, he set a timer for one hour and one for 45 minutes, so he could melt the butter without it cooling too much. Once his timers had both gone off, he pulled up the website again.
“Okay, 9x13 inch pan. Preheat to 175℃, grease the pan,” he read aloud just to ensure he was following the recipe. He quickly checked to make sure nothing was in the oven before setting it to preheat. He’d done that before, and had resulted in the smoke alarm going off, alerting his then boyfriend, now husband, to his attempt.
“In separate mixing bowl, add wet ingredients. Okay, wets are the butter, canola oil, buttermilk, eggs, and vanilla extract.” He announced each ingredient as he poured them into the bowl. Then, with one of the wooden spoons he knew the sting of all too well, he churned them until they looked evenly combined. Then he set to the drys, nearly spilling flour everywhere when trying to measure out two cups. Once he was content with the how the dry bowl looked, he poured a little of the wet in and mixed it, alternating between mixing and pouring the mixture.
By the end, he actually had a decent looking batter. Just before he went to pour the batter, he realized he’d forgotten to grease the pan. Quickly, he looked up how best to grease a pan, scavenging for parchment he knew Satou had and grabbing another stick of butter. Cutting the parchment and wielding the butter, he coated the pan thoroughly.
Just as he finished, the oven went off, signaling it’s completion of the preheating process. Carefully but quickly, he poured the batter into the pan and placed it in the oven, making a point to put on the oven mitts before doing so. He’d made many messes by not putting on mitts and burning himself. The second he shut the oven, he started the timer he’d preset on his phone for 40 minutes.
For 40 minutes, he held his breath, not taking his eyes off the oven for one second. Not even when he felt like he would pee his pants did he step away from the oven. The timer went off, and he tested the cake with a toothpick, his heart fluttering when it came out clean. Turning off the oven, he grabbed the mitts and took out his cake.
Finally, he succeeded. And it smelled delicious too! Finally able to rest, he set the cake aside on the rack to cool before rushing to the bathroom and then the bedroom to wake his husband.
“'Zashi! 'Zashi, wake up!” he exclaimed quietly. The back of his mind jeered at his childish excitement, but he opted to ignore it, instead choosing to shake his husband more vigorously.
“What? What is it?” Hizashi mumbled sleepily.
“I baked a cake!” he declared triumphantly. Hizashi shot up.
“What? Where’s the fire?” His eyes darted around. Shouta couldn’t help the pout that took his face. It was a fair reaction, but still…
“It didn’t burn,” he glowered. Hizashi looked at him like he’d grown two heads.
“Really?” he doubted.
“Why would I wake you up if I just burnt another cake? The fire alarm would’ve woken you, not me,” Shouta retorted. Hizashi responded with a shrug and then pulled back the covers.
“Well, show me your cake,” Hizashi invited. Immediately, Shouta half-dragged him to the kitchen.
“It should be cool enough for me to take it out now,” he stated, grabbing a large plate and placing it over the pan before flipping it. The cake slipped out with zero issue.
“Wait!” he ordered, searching for the icing he knew was in the fridge. One sloppy rushed icing later, and Shouta called his cake finished.
“There. Now, sit and I’ll cut you a slice,” Shouta said, grabbing two forks, plates, and a knife.
“That looks really good, Sho,” Hizashi praised sincerely as the knife glided through the goodie. When he took a bit, he actually moaned slightly.
“This is really, really good,” Shouta beamed, almost not believing that he had made that cake, and that someone else had swapped it out of pity.
“Maybe next time you could wake me up before you bake and we can make something together?” Hizashi offered, realizing that he probably should have done that in the first place. It wasn’t that Shouta was intentionally burning his attempts. He simply didn’t know how to cook because he was never taught even the basics. Banning him from the kitchen, he realized, was a bit mean. After all, most, if not all, of his attempts had been in effort to do something for him. The ecstatic beam that appeared on Shouta’s face reaffirmed that thought, and Hizashi swore that he would bake a thousand midnight treats to see that beam again.