Work Text:
The lab smells like burnt sugar and ambition. Aban's apron is dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows as he adjusts the angle of the gingerbread wall for the twelfth time. The entire counter is a battlefield of royal icing bags, scattered gumdrops, and meticulously piped mortar lines. He'd stayed up three nights perfecting the recipe—molasses thickened just enough to hold structural integrity, cardamom added for warmth, a hint of black pepper for depth. Architectural integrity matters, damn it.
Ivo pauses mid-scribble on his holographic blueprints, nose twitching. "Why does my workspace smell like a bakery exploded?"
"Because," Aban beams, flour still smudged on his cheekbone, "you're taking a break."
He gestures to the gingerbread kit with the flourish of a magician, revealing a trick. Pre-cut walls, a slate roof of chocolate shingles, even a tiny stained-glass window made from melted Jolly Ranchers. All scaled to precise ratios—1:100, because of course, Aban calculated that.
Ivo's fingers twitch toward his stylus. "This is—"
"—necessary," Aban finishes, nudging a piping bag into Ivo's palm. "Look at those buttresses you designed for the energy core. Now translate that into icing." His thumb brushes icing off Ivo's wrist, deliberate and grounding. "Architecture's architecture, yeah?"
Ivo exhales through his nose. But when he picks up a sugar cube, he carves it into a perfect hexagon. "The load-bearing columns will require—"
"Double reinforcement, I know." Aban grins. "Hence the extra-thick gingerbread. Try not to eat the structural supports."
Ivo’s laugh is a quiet, startled thing, lost under the crack of a candy cane being snapped into a makeshift beam.