Work Text:
People all like to handle stress and unwind in different ways, some smoke, others drink, gamble, engage in casual sex with strangers, a vast number of avenues exist to help ease the difficulty of the mundane every day, and you? Channel it into baking.
You have an inordinate amount of stress in your life, between your job, school, and your roommates slash boyfriends and their “work”, you find yourself in the kitchen baking something roughly three days a week at minimum. You love to lose yourself in the motions, creaming together butter and sugar, working dough, whipping cream and of course decorating. Usually you can’t eat it all, so you promise a portion of your treats to study groups, college clubs, bake sales, or your work’s break room. You naturally enjoy a few too, you love to enjoy the fruits of your labour, you just love to share your hard work with others a bit more.
Dan is known to enjoy your treats, you often see him running out the door with a blueberry muffin or a cinnamon bun in his hand on his way to the hospital. On a rare day off, you are pressing a kiss to his temple as he has his coffee on the kitchen table, as you slide a plate with a cherry cheese danish, you joke, “Danishes for Dan.”
He exhales amusedly through his nose, a kiss placed on your cheek in return as he says, “Terrible.” Until he takes a bite of the confection you presented to him, and cannot help the moan he lets out, “I take it back, you can tell as many corny jokes as you want when you bake like this.”
“Gee, thanks for your permission, Dan.” You tease as you take the seat across from him, warmth and happiness curling in your chest as you cradle your own mug.
There is a small problem with you offering your amazing baking services to so many people, at times you can get a tad overwhelmed when you are overly needed, pulled in multiple directions. You have a week coming up where you will need to bake more than average, it isn’t an all the time thing, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible, because what a problem to have right? Getting to do your favourite hobby a little more than usual because people love the result so much, getting a ton of appreciation for it on top of it, really you’ll make it out just fine.
You are so consumed with your extracurricular stress buster that you don’t have the time to help Herbert or Dan with their basement activities, Herbert is less than happy about this, a scoff and an eye roll, “Really? You can’t help at all?”
Currently, you are wrist deep in a bowl as you are mixing, you respond, “I can’t Herbert, by the time I get out of classes, get home from my part-time shifts in the afternoon, do dinner, I have time to bake, shower and then go to bed before I do it all over again.”
“Why do you have to do it in the first place?” He bites, and you laugh, unable to help it, “Because I like it! Isn’t that reason enough to do anything?” You don’t defend yourself further, not bothering to outline all the other benefits, because you don’t feel like you need to. Either way, you are sure if Herbert has decided to be a bitch about this, nothing you can say will change that.
Dan cuts in, hands on his hips as he shows that you didn’t need to say anything further, because he is taking up the task of convincing Herbert dearest, “It’s a one week, Herbert, they told me all about it, and they are doing it to help some events-”
Herbert cuts in with a sneer, “I’m sure that if we unlock the secrets of beating death itself, that would be a lot more helpful than baking cupcakes.”
You sigh as you stop your current task, a look over your shoulder to see Herbert staring you down, you tell him, “Yeah, I am sure in the long run but for right now? Immortality will have to wait another week, cakes and cookies will just have to do.”
The staring contest continues for a minute before he gives up and leaves, walking off to the basement, calling to you, “Fine, have fun with your baked goods.”
You laugh again, only Herbert can put so much venom into those last two innocent words, God he can be so annoying at times, but unbearably hilarious at others, you cannot help loving him. Dan says, “Ignore him.”
“I am, have fun working with him in this mood.” You say, flashing him a grin, and he rubs at his eyes, “Yeah, I’m in for a real treat.”
Dan plants a kiss to your forehead as you start to mix again, he says, “Have fun for me.”
You promise easily, “I will.” Then Dan breaks off and makes his way down into the basement.
By the time the night is over, you had made these fantastic chocolate cupcakes with this whipped vanilla bean icing, peanut butter cookies and fruit explosion muffins. You clean as you go while things are in the oven, so the cleanup is spread out, you only have to wash the muffin pans, and then head upstairs. Dan had already gone to bed, Herbert is still in the basement, you have a shower and fall onto your own mattress happily.
You had already packed the tupperware of baked goods last night, to make your departure this morning easier, you just have to eat and head out. When you do go to leave, you pick up the tupperware of the peanut butter cookies, and it feels a bit lighter, you open it and discover roughly ten of the cookies you made were gone, and they were not small cookies. It was so late last night you didn’t have any, and Dan usually never takes that much, weird.
You brush it off, closing the container, maybe you are wrong, no time to continue to think on this, you have to go.
The thought leaves your mind easily, that night you bake a few more things, mini strawberry cheesecakes, chocolate coconut macaroons and double chocolate brownies, but curiously, when you wake up the following day? You find a third of the brownies you made were gone, and it is much harder to brush off, but you still somehow do. That night, you don’t have to bake anything, but you have to get back into it full force the following day.
That next day, you finally have a moment with Dan in the morning, and ask, “Have you had a larger than usual sweet tooth this week?”
He gives you an odd look, he shakes his head and tells you, “No, not at all, I know these were spoken for, so I didn’t touch them. Why?”
“Hmm, because a bunch of my peanut butter cookies were missing the morning after I baked them, and the following day my brownies had been raided too.”
“Weird, and you haven’t been sleep eating?” He inquires in a tone that makes you laugh, “No, I haven’t.”
Dan hums for a moment before he offers up, “Well, it is obvious, I didn’t do it and neither did you, so process of elimination, it was our third roommate, Herbert did it.”
That of course makes sense, but it was odd, you’d been baking for a long time and Herbert always turned down when you offered, so him eating such a large amount, especially after giving you a hard time, essentially out of nowhere, is strange. Why is he partaking now?
You verbalize some of your frustration, venting to Dan, “After him busting my balls the other day, ugh, where does he get off?”
“I dunno if you want the answer to that one.” He jokes and you crack a small smile.
When you come home later that night, you see Herbert and you confront him, asking in a lighter tone than he probably deserves, “Pretty good treats, huh?”
Herbert throws a look towards you like you are insane, proceeding to ask, “How would I know?”
Denying it, interesting. You press, “Because a not so small amount of my sweets have been pilfered, I haven’t partaken and neither has Dan, sooo-”
“So you think it’s me?” Herbert laughs, “I can assure you, it’s not.”
“If isn’t you, then whom? One of the re-animated corpses?” You bite out, and he gets up from the table, “I have no idea, have you considered perhaps you simply have been miscounting?”
Oh how infuriating, you respond in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “Yes, sure, that is the solution, I can’t count.”
“Glad we are in agreement.” He says in that tone that you swear to whatever God exists only Herbert can, and makes his way to the basement, signalling this conversation is over. You decide to let it go, now that you’ve shown him you have noticed his excessive snacking, surely he will stop.
The new desserts on the docket are cream puffs, fudge, and a rich German chocolate torte, they come together perfectly, and you go to bed very pleased with yourself. Thank God you confronted Herbert, no way will he touch any of these.
When you wake up the next day, the fudge has been obviously rifled through, a few cream puffs eaten and nearly half the torte was gone.
You were going to kill him.
That night’s fight was loud, Dan had to get involved and yet Herbert kept refusing that he had anything to do with it, hadn’t had a single bite, and he wouldn’t hear of anything else and oh my God you cannot deal with him right now. Herbert storms off, and you want to scream into a pillow, Dan can do little to calm you down.
If he isn’t going to own up to it, you need to do something drastic, if you catch him in the act, there will be no more room for debate.
You make a late grocery store run, you buy a large swath of supplies, and once home, you set to work, you bake peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, a lemon thyme cake with thick vanilla frosting, blondies, and chocolate hazelnut croissants, a bunch of the things you make best. You are confident that this menagerie would be irresistible to anybody.
The house layout is in your favour, you are able to set up and go to sleep in the living room and be hidden from view to anyone in the kitchen, so when Herbert comes up from the basement it does wake you up. You lie still and wait it out, can hear him in the kitchen, messing around, and when you are positive the timing is right, you find yourself getting up and coming into the kitchen, finding Herbert with his hand in the literal cookie jar, of in this case, tupperware.
“I fucking knew it!” You say far too loudly for how late it is, and Herbert’s head swings to look at you standing in the doorway, two cookies in one hand and one with a bite missing in the other, eyes wide behind his glasses.
Storming into the kitchen and right up to Herbert, you spit at him, “Herbert! What the fuck?!”
He chews for a moment and swallows, and once his mouth is empty, he says simply, “I was hungry.”
“Are you serious?” You ask in disbelief.
“Yes!” He insists, and you scoff at him, “UN-fucking-believable!”
Herbert now caught isn’t hiding it, he takes another bite of the cookie in his hand and asks defensively around his mouthful, “Oh what?”
“You! You are so unbelievable! You give me shit for my hobby, steal my hard work, eat it in secret and when I confront you about it? You deny, deny, deny, saying, all oh I would never, and I catch you in the fucking act and all you have to say is I was hungry!” You scold him and then tack on, “Seriously, you need to explain yourself better, cuz I was hungry isn’t a good enough reason!”
He sighs and makes a move for the table, about to bring the tupperware with him, and you stop him, your tone leaving no room for argument, “Leave it.”
Reluctantly Herbert does so, he slumps down in a seat and tells you that the other night, when he was headed to bed, he saw all the treats laid out, and it bothered him, he was thinking about the earlier conversation and what a waste he thought it all was. Further, he had the thought that what you made couldn’t be that good, so he attempts to prove his hypothesis and tries some.
Herbert is the kind of guy who is able to ignore his bodily needs for a long time, able to file them away and into the background while working, but when he starts to sate one, it is like it becomes a compulsion. So when he took that first bite he realized two things, one, it was delicious, and two, he was fucking starving after working late into the night, leading to him eating ten cookies in a row.
The next night he saw everything new you made, and he thought maybe the first night was a fluke, so he tried some more, and the same thing happens again, he starts eating and stopping was hard. He had to accept that you are a stellar baker, and he kind of regrets waiting for so long, another very stubborn part of Herbert doesn’t ever want to admit he is wrong, so when you comforted him, he doubled down that he had never even eaten a single bite. You tell him laughing and balking at the very idea the way he had was a bit harsh and he continues, saying now that you have caught him there is nothing else to hid behind.
You let him dangle for a moment, allow the silence to stretch between you both, let him sit in this mood for a minute, turning it all over in your mind before you speak up. “Well, you’re an idiot.”
Meeting his eyes you can’t stop yourself from starting to smile, “I don’t appreciate you stealing this stuff when it’s for other people, I know you have a bad habit of it with all those fucking bodies and parts you take, but these things were spoken for and IF you wanted some and asked I would make whatever you want, so next time? Just speak up.”
“You’d make anything I wanted?” Herbert asked clearly very interested and you sigh out, drawing from your never ending supply of sarcasm, “Wow, what a great apology, a real all timer.”
He scoffs and brushes over it very rushed, “Fine, I’m sorry, but you are serious?”
You laugh, really the anger has melted because oh my God this situation is so ridiculous you cannot continue to give him shit, the previous emotion instead is bleeding into mirth, “Yes! Fuck, I am serious. What do you want?”
He thinks for a moment and says, “Nanaimo bars?”
You blink in surprise and ask, “What are those?”
“A Canadian dessert, a favourite, no one makes them down here, and I’d like them.” He says in a tone that rings as sincere, you reach out and take his hand and say, “Alright, I’ll look into a recipe and do it.”
The kiss you share so late at night over the kitchen table acts as his “Thank you”.
It was a very sweet moment, the sweeter one came the following day however, you purchased everything needed and upon seeing Herbert you throw an apron at him and tell him, “C’mon, get suited up.”
Herbert looks at the blue gingham print apron in his hand as if it has personally offended him, “Whatever for?”
“To help make your Nanaimo bars.” You chirp and Herbert laughs as if the idea is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, “Absolutely not.”
“No? Don’t think you can do it?” You tease as you are trying up your own apron, and he says, “Hardly, it’s simply beneath me.”
“Fuck off and take the stick out of your ass, Herbert, you want these? You’re helping, and this is also to help make up for your frankly piss poor apology and all the food you stole.” You assert and with perfect timing, Dan sweeps into the room, in comfortable clothing and his own apron, “I’m ready.”
“Daniel is helping?” Herbert asks, and you tell him, “Of course, when I mentioned this, he wanted to.”
“Yeah, figured it’d be a fun date night.” Dan shares with a grin, and Herbert groans, his head tipping back, you and Dan laugh, and you watch him start to tuck his tie away and put on the apron, “Awe Herbie, come on, baking is really just chemistry, lighten up.”
A decidedly different science based date, but one that is sorrily needed, though Herbert would never, ever admit it, you think he gained a newfound appreciation for your favourite hobby and the work involved. The dessert takes a good amount of time, but when you are on the couch, TV on, and the pan on the coffee table for sharing, you have to admit, they are divine.