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Pineapple slices.
For the past 6 months he's known his boyfriend, Isagi remembered one major thing about him: Bachira loves pineapple slices. Specifically, the canned ones you'd find at a Sam's Club, which you could buy in bulk for a 50% off discount. It was one of the foods Bachira yearned for the most while they were in Blue Lock.
Another thing that was good about canned pineapple slices was the fact that they were an ingredient that Isagi could easily use for... a cake. Bachira's birthday was tomorrow, and Isagi already has his presents hidden in the closet behind all of his clothes. And conveniently, he did not have a cake for him yet.
Yes, Isagi could easily buy a generic cake from a store or get a custom order from a bakery nearby... but he wanted to make it special. Nothing's more special than having a homemade birthday cake. It felt like a great idea--- until Isagi realized he couldn't bake for the life of him. He could cook, but baking is a whole other realm.
Cooking is more forgiving than baking. Baking is a delicate science; every step matters.
But for Bachira, Isagi wanted to face the challenge.
The first step is to pry himself out of Bachira's arms and climb out of bed without waking him up. Bachira's arms embraced Isagi's waist, and his nose buried in Isagi's neck. He snored similarly to a cat, a sound soothing enough to lull Isagi back into his dreamland. But Isagi had no time to waste, so he tried to writhe away.
Suddenly, he let out a noise that was a mixture of a huff and a sharp gasp as Bachira's arm tightened around him, the iron grip impossible to squirm away from. Bachira incoherently mumbled in his sleep against Isagi's left ear, his breath warming his cheek a bit. "Yoichiiii..." Bachira whined, his voice raspy from sleep.
It took only a couple of seconds for Bachira to relax his arms, his muscles loose and pliable enough for Isagi to sneak out. And he did so, being swift with his escape after prying his arms off of him. Bachira only stirred a bit, and before he could open his mouth or his quivering eyelids, Isagi pushed his pillow into his needy grasp. Bachira instantly relaxed and hugged the pillow, one of his famous smiles spreading onto his lips.
Good, Isagi was free, and Bachira was still asleep.
Slipping his flip-flops on, Isagi crept out of their shared bedroom (making sure not to make a sound). He shut the door tenderly behind him, a small click chiming from the action. Isagi moved with light footsteps all the way down the hallway and then hesitated each step he made down the stairs. At some point, a step creaked, and his heart dropped to his ass. He hurried as quietly as he could from the stairs and made it to the kitchen unscathed.
He flicked the light switch, stretching his arms and feeling his back pop with a satisfying crack. Right, now he could start working.
He looked at the clock on the stove. It was 2:03am, so it was officially Bachira's birthday now.
Fuck, he had less time than he thought.
After chugging a cold energy drink from the fridge to caffeinate himself, he googled a cake recipe to follow that involved pineapple slices. He wanted it to be hearty and easy to make. Thankfully for Isagi, it was easy to find such a recipe.
An easy pineapple cake? No mixer required? It should take around an hour to make? It sounded like a pretty good deal.
The way the baker described the cake sounded great too. Buttery, slightly crisp edges and a moist inside with a delicate crumb. Sweet, fruity flavor that isn't overpowering, paired with brown sugar?
Isagi wanted to taste this cake so badly, so he was quick to follow this recipe to a T. It said to preheat the oven to 350 F before starting, and Isagi was quick to comply.
He needed all-purpose flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt to combine into a large bowl. Isagi washed the (barely used) measuring spoons they had in the sink and dried them before use. He needed one cup of flour, so he opened the bag (and coughed at the dust cloud that shot itself into his face) and scooped it, getting some flour on his bunched sleeves. He stumbled and reached for a butter knife to even out the overflow of flour in the cup into the bag.
Successfully, he dumped the cup of flour into the bowl. He clapped his palms to clean them and shut the bag of flour to push it aside. Next, he grabbed the can of baking powder and opened it, scratching the aluminum seal open. He was thankful that the baking powder spared him a dust cloud (unlike the flour). He repeated the same method as before, and the process was much cleaner. The dry ingredients were quick and easy to put together overall.
Now, he needed to add the wet ingredients to his perfectly whisked combination of powders.
Isagi melted butter in the microwave. Afterwards, he poured the melted butter into the bowl carefully, but unfortunately, some of it ran down the side of the cup and dripped onto the counter. "Shit, shit," he whispered and tipped the mug all the way forward in a panic. He got most of the butter into the bowl in the end, at least.
He poured the milk into a 1/4 measuring cup, but the caffeine from the energy drink he drank earlier made his hand jitter, which unfortunately caused the milk to spill over. He quickly dumped the milk from the measuring cup into the semi-moist cake batter and put the carton down with his other hand.
This should've been a smooth process, but Isagi's caffeine-ridden hands quivered again and made his grip uncontrollable. So, as he put the milk carton down, his inconsistent grip squeezed its middle, causing some of the milk inside to erupt and drip onto the floor and splash all over his hands, leaving three puddles a little too close to his feet.
He slipped a little as he pushed the carton away from the bowl; then he stumbled once more to the sink to wash his hands.
Not having any more time to spare, he dropped three paper towels down for each puddle of milk. He'll clean it up later, he thought. Bachira's birthday cake was his top priority right now, and he was determined to get it ready in time. After putting the vanilla extract and pineapple juice in, Isagi was ready to tackle the last wet ingredient(s) — the 2 large eggs.
Smelling like a mixture of vanilla and flour, Isagi was gently tapping the egg against the corner of the bowl. When he was ready, he tapped the egg particularly hard against the edge and used his two hands to crack it smoothly into the bowl, watching the yolk fall into place at the center of the batter.
He discarded the shell in the garbage and worked on the other egg. He repeated the process and cracked it high over the bowl this time. The sound of the crack was satisfying, and he watched as the egg whites hurried to follow the yolk.
His pupils shrank as he watched a piece of the eggshell follow. "No... no, no.... the shell..."
The tiny chip was almost mocking him as it fell into the bowl, blending in with the light brown ingredients around it.
Isagi rushed to get a spoon from the dishwasher. He leaned in close to the bowl, using the spoon to pick around the egg, trying to find the small, stupid eggshell that tainted the batter.
It's been roughly an hour now of getting this batter together. Isagi focused on getting this eggshell out — it was small, but knowing that it was somewhere, lurking in the batter like the evil little thing it was... waiting to be crunched amidst the soft sweetness of the cake... made him feel sick.
Bachira's birthday cake cannot have a potential jumpscare in it. His boyfriend deserved the best.
"I can't believe I'm messing up so badly... Meguru deserves way better. I can't bake for the life of me," Isagi muttered to himself as he poked around. Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed, and the rest of his face schooled into determination. "No, I can bake. I can do this. For him."
Unfortunately, Isagi failed to notice a certain brunet stumbling into the kitchen and yawning, rubbing his eye as he approached from the opposite side of the counter. "Yocchan, you shouldn't replace yourself with your pillow. It's way too soft, and you're not that soft; you're more muscular--"
Isagi yanked his head out of the bowl and frantically used his arms to conceal the 'evidence'.
In an ideal world, he would easily collect his composure and stand up straight, ask Bachira what he's doing up so late, and maybe bring him to a couch in the living room to lull him back to sleep.
Instead, the second his arms flew around the bowl, he quickly realized that he was standing on two of the milk-soaked paper towels. And they were... very slippery.
Unceremoniously, he lost his balance and flailed, his feet sliding out from under him. A muffled yelp escaped his throat as the bowl tipped over. Batter flew everywhere—on his face, his shirt, his hair. The bowl, unharmed, tumbled beside him after pouring out most of the batter.
Isagi gave up and just stayed there on the floor with his arms spread out on either side, accepting his fate as the cake batter dirtied his clothes.
Bachira, being half-asleep, barely processed the entire ordeal. "Huh? Yocchan..." He mumbled, walking around the counter to see what just happened. The smell of cake batter mixed with an open can of untouched pineapple slices wafted into his nose the closer he got. His eyes opened wider as he really took in the mess.
Besides the obvious, he noticed the counters stained with specks of flour and droplets of milk. Every ingredient for baking a cake was lying on the countertop, some unopened and unused and others looking like they went through hell.
"Yoichi..." Bachira said slowly, turning his head to look down at Isagi. His lips were parted as Isagi cut him off.
"D-Don't mention it, Meguru. I--" Isagi sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes clean of batter, looking up at Bachira from the floor, his pajamas completely tarnished. He looked and felt like a mess. What if Bachira thought he was stupid for even trying?
A slow smile graced Bachira's lips as he gazed at Isagi. His countenance was tender. "Hey, Yocchan...? Were you baking me a cake?" He sounded loving despite the sleepiness of his voice from just waking up.
Isagi's breath left him for a second, and he licked his lips nervously as he moved his head to the side. This was supposed to be a surprise. Bachira wasn't supposed to see him like this.
Yet, once he felt the soft hand of his boyfriend lift his chin, Isagi didn't feel as ashamed as before.
Bachira leaned in, then slowly licked his nose with his tongue, removing some of the batter. As he tasted it, he locked eyes with Isagi once more, smiling wider. "Don't be embarrassed, Yoichi. It tastes delicious!"
Isagi couldn't help but let out a little chuckle at that, and afterwards Bachira helped him off the floor with a smile brighter than a thousand suns. Once Isagi escaped the kitchen with minimal clumsiness (thanks to Bachira), he let out a sigh of relief. He was also relieved that Bachira wasn't upset about the kitchen.
Bachira's joy made everything all better.
Isagi swallowed nervously. "Sorry you couldn't try the cake when it was actually baked, Meguru. I tried my best, and I was doing pretty well, but then an eggshell fell into the batter, and I panicked because I couldn't find it and I wouldn't have time to decorate--"
"Shhh..." Bachira pressed a finger to Isagi's lips, his smile unmoving on his face. "Yocchan, don't worry. It's the effort that matters! It makes this feel extra special!" He giggled. "I'm so happy! You succeeded in my heart, so don't be upset that you 'messed up.' It just makes it more fun for us!"
"Huh?" Isagi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Bachira smiled wider. "Now we can bake together. Come on, go get clean before the batter gets all sticky!" Another little giggle came out of him as he beamed his pearly whites at Isagi, showing off one of his beautiful smiles that made Isagi's day (or night, technically.)
Isagi followed his command. He washed his hands clean and stripped himself of his clothes. He took a long shower, and after getting dressed, he came back downstairs in a new set of pajamas with his hair slightly damp. Isagi peeked into the kitchen and noticed that Bachira had cleaned it up more or less. Speaking of Bachira, he was smiling behind the counter in a random apron, his hair tied back in a low pigtail. The only major difference on the countertop was the fact that there was a different large bowl than before, surrounded by all the ingredients.
Bachira lit up once more as his eyes landed on him. "Yocchan! Are you ready?" he beamed.
His energy was infectious. "More ready than ever, Megu."
"Awesome!" Bachira lifted a whisk. "Let's get started!"
The baking process with Bachira went smoother than when Isagi was by himself. Using the recipe Isagi originally found, they split tasks evenly amongst themselves. The oven, which was originally preheated, still stayed strong two hours later. Dry ingredients readily fell into the bowl, and the wet ingredients were easier to control than before.
Bachira took over whisking the batter. Once the batter was properly mixed, he took a long sniff of the bowl and smiled to himself at the aroma.
Bachira poured the batter into the lined baking tray and put it into the preheated oven for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, Isagi worked hard on the topping, wanting to make sure he at least contributed something to the cake. The topping was a flour, butter, and brown sugar mixture. It was an easy concoction that Isagi finished quickly.
30 minutes later, Isagi took charge in taking the cake out with oven mitts that usually laid beside the sink. He poured the filling on top, and Bachira used chopsticks to apply pineapple slices onto the cake. Isagi put it back into the oven for 30 more minutes so the topping could crisp up.
Once the cake finished baking, Isagi took it out again. They let it cool off before they could have it.
"It smells great, Isagi~ You have good taste in recipes!" Bachira chimed.
"Well, I know you like pineapple slices, and I wanted to incorporate them into your cake somehow." Isagi said with flushed cheeks. "You did most of the work..."
"Well, there's probably tons of pineapple cake recipes, and you chose a really yummy one!"
"I guess so." Isagi smiled, his eyes hooded as he gazed at Bachira.
Bachira giggled and leaned in to kiss Isagi's blushing cheek. "Hehe, you still taste sweet from the batter earlier."
Isagi blushed even harder. "Don't say that..."
Sooner than later, the cake cooled down. It was now 5am, officially the morning of Bachira's birthday. The kitchen was cleaner than before. They put all the ingredients away, and they loaded the dishes and other equipment into the dishwasher. Now, Bachira was sitting on the other side of the counter while Isagi was cutting into the cake. Bachira was over the moon, kicking his legs as he watched him. "Hehe! We didn't get any eggshells in it this time."
"Thank God," Isagi chuckled, cutting a slice for Bachira and putting it on a yellow plate as carefully as he could. He picked the plate up and walked over to him with purpose, putting the plate right in front of his swaying figure. "Happy Birthday, Meguru." Isagi leaned in to kiss Bachira's blushing cheek, making him giggle happily.
"Best birthday ever!" Bachira chirped. He reached for a fork to cut and grab a piece of the cake to enjoy. He turned to Isagi and shoved the bite of cake into his mouth instead. "How is it, Isagi?" His face was close to Isagi's as he waited.
Isagi's eyes were wide, stunned at the sudden gift of sweetness. He chewed thoroughly, swallowing before making a comment. "It's sweeter than I thought. It's very... you."
"Huh, I must've used too much vanilla." Bachira chimed, laughing it off. "Here — have another bite!"
"Bachira!"