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The kitchen was dimly lit, bathed in the soft golden glow of a sunset on the ocean—warm with the scent of vanilla and sugar, lingering from a chaotic afternoon of baking. The twins had finally gone down after Wriothesley spent at least half an hour cleaning cookie dough from their little faces and hands, then entertained their silly bedtime routine involving an impromptu theatre performance and being coerced into wearing a tiara for forty-five straight minutes.
Now, barefoot and in sweatpants, Neuvillette was carefully stacking cookies into a tin. He smiled as he felt strong arms wrap around him from behind, comforted by the scent of shampoo from Wriothesley’s shower.
“Is this the part where I get to seduce the baker with baking puns?”
Neuvillette glanced over his shoulder, tilting his head up to give his husband an amused look. “I’m still covered in sugar and flour. Do you want that in our bed?”
“Extra flavour?” Wriothesley replied with a smirk, voice low and teasing. His lips grazed the back of his neck. “You know you looking adorable like this is my weakness…”
Neuvillette smiled, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’m literally covered in baby spit and butter.”
“And yet,” Wriothesley replied, turning him around, “you’re still the hottest thing I’ve seen all day. Even hotter than when you told off that man yesterday for cutting in line at the bakery.”
“That man deserved it!” Neuvillette chuckled, trying (and failing) to hide the blush on his cheeks. “A minor injustice, but injustice nonetheless.”
Wriothesley smiled at him fondly, leaning down to kiss him slowly. “And I deserve this for being very patient earlier when you turned down my advances in favour of cookie dough.”
Neuvillette grinned against his mouth. “It wasn’t going to chill itself…”
“Neither am I…” Wriothesley murmured, leaning in for another kiss, pulling his husband closer by the waist.
Neuvillette leaned away, laughing in disbelief. “Was that genuinely meant to be a baking pun?”
Wriothesley kissed him again, holding him close. “I’m a lawyer, sunshine. I use any language that wins.”
Neuvillette laughed against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “You do realise there’s still another tray in the oven, right?”
Wriothesley shrugged, hands still resting possessively on his waist. “Maybe I don't care.”
Neuvillette raised an eyebrow, and Wriothesley recognised it as the same expression his husband used whenever he was right. “You’ll care when the smoke alarm wakes the twins.”
That earned him a dramatic groan in response. “Buzzkill…”
“Parenthood.” Neuvillette said, smiling teasingly. He slipped away from Wriothesley to check the oven. The cookies were nearly golden, and the warm light from the stove reflected in his eyes like a collision of molten gold and diamond. Wriothesley wasn’t far behind, and the moment Neuvillette stood again, his arms were back around his waist from behind.
“I should file for domestic abuse. Walking around in your cute little apron and teasing me like that…”
Neuvillette rolled his eyes, gently pushing him away so he could take the cookies out of the oven, the sudden blast of dry heat making Wriothesley want to undress them both even more. “You’re just mad that you didn’t get your hands on the cookie dough.”
“I think I’ll get my hands on something better.”
Neuvillette turned, rolling his eyes again, but unable to hide the smile on his face. “You’re getting dangerously close to getting some powdered sugar in some very unfortunate places.”
“You say that like it's a threat.” Wriothesley smirked.
His husband turned around again, flipping off the oven. “Go sit down before I either smear butter on your face, or decide not to let you have a cookie.”
“Fine…” Wriothesley peeled himself away, flopping onto the couch like he hadn't just been one terrible innuendo away from having a bag of flour thrown at him.
Neuvillette shook his head with a smile as he rearranged the fresh cookies onto a cooling rack, then placed two onto a plate. “You’re worse than the twins.”
Wriothesley’s voice came from over by the couch. “You married me…”
Neuvillette looked over, heart ridiculously full at the sight of him — messy-haired, in sleep pants, sprawled over their worn couch like he owned the universe. Which, in Neuvillette’s eyes, he kind of did. “I know,” Neuvillette said fondly. “Terrible judgment.”
Wriothesley just grinned. “Best bad decision of your life.