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When Shion came back Friday afternoon from grocery shopping with a pound of cherries in his bags Nezumi knew what would he be doing the rest of the day. In return to Nezumi’s dead panned look, Shion handed him the bag with a wide grin.
“You said you wanted cherry cake!” He declared cheerfully as he bent down to preheat the oven.
Cherry pitting.
Nezumi hated pitting cherries, and he knew that Shion knew that. And somehow everytime he makes cherry cake, the job to pit them fell onto Nezumi’s lap. Nezumi despised it. It’s fiddly and tedious, the stupid fruit kept slipping from Nezumi’s hand, rolling around the table and splattering dark red juice everywhere. The stupid skewer that Shion swore is the easiest tool to pit cherries with didn’t work as intended at all for Nezumi. He kept poking it at the wrong places, mangling the poor fruit more often than not. And even when he finally managed to pit one properly, there were more to do, because as said before, Shion bought one fucking pound of cherries.
Looking at Nezumi’s impatient face, the airhead had a nerve to chuckle as he split a cherry in half with a small knife.
“Oh don’t look at me like that.” Shion gave him a fond smile, “You’re the one who kept complaining about not having enough cherries in your cake. I think I’m doing you a favour.” He said as he twisted the cherry open and tossing the pit into a bowl to discard later.
“Then why do I have to pit these while you can simply chop it up?” Nezumi sniped, glaring at Shion with a poor attempt of contempt in his eyes.
“These are to be mixed into the batter, Nezumi. Yours is for the topping. You know that.” Shion hummed as he licked a drop of juice running through his wrist. Damn if that was not the cutest thing Nezumi had ever seen.
“What’s the fucking difference?” He prodded the cherry with more strenght than intended, “It’ll all cooked and mushed up in the end, why can’t we just chop it all up?” The pit flew from out of the fruit with a curse.
Shion gave Nezumi a mocked horrified expression, “Oh no. It wouldn’t stew properly,” Shion’s eyes glinted mischievously, “...and my mom would kill me if I ever do that to the syrup topping.” He raised up from his chair and leaned down to peck Nezumi’s temple,
“Take your time, it’ll take a while for me to make the cake batter.”
Nezumi grunted in return, fiddling with the damned cherries. He only looked up when Shion turned to get the butter and eggs from the fridge. Nezumi memorized this routine to the heart. For as much as he hated pitting the cherries, watching Shion bake the cake, and the resulting cake itself, of course, makes up more than the trouble it serves. Nezumi loved it.
Something in the way Shion moved in their–their, Nezumi can’t help to emphasize– kitchen filled him with a warm sensation in his chest. The way Shion thoughtlessly step aside around Nezumi’s chair to move to the stove, grabbing the saucepan along the way and setting it up on the burner in one continuous motion. How he automatically reached out for the igniter in the drawer to start a fire because their gas stove was a shitty one. Effortless. With practiced ease.
Nezumi watched on as Shion plopped the butter onto the saucepan and swirled it around for it to melt properly. Knew the exact time where it would turn from a foaming yellow mess into a warm caramel color. Expected that Shion would hold the pan out to Nezumi everytime to let him get a waft of the devine nutty scent.
“Doesn’t it smell wonderful?” Shion asked with a wide smile. And everytime, Nezumi would groan, pretending to be annoyed, before giving him a small smile, “It certainly does, Your Majesty”
Shion knew Nezumi liked the smell of browned butter. It was a smell he always associated with Shion. Even when he was a tweleve year old falling asleep in a strange boy’s arms. He didn’t know what the warm, comforting scent was, never even thought of it, but he liked it. For years he subconsciously called it Shion’s smell. He only found out it was browned butter that morning after the fall of No.6 when he watched Shion’s mom baking in her bakery, observed her melting the butter slowly and was amazed when the familiar scent hits his nose.
Nezumi’s mind flew back to Shion, Karan’s image melting perfectly into her son’s form in his mind. Shion moved aside from the stove after turning it off and reached down for a couple of bowl, setting it on the counter top. He grabbed jars of flour, ground almond, and brown sugar from the top shelves before breaking out his trusty kitchen scale. Shion, Nezumi found out, was ridiculously meticulous about weighting everything he cooks with. Oddly, Karan never used a scale when she baked. She knew when to stop pouring by sight, by touch, by texture, while Shion would follow the recipe through until the decimals. Blame his scientific background, he said when Nezumi asked him about it. A difference in miligrams in the lab could be the line between a life-saving cure and a violent explotion. Nezumi was sure Shion was exaggerating, based on his sheepish grin.
Nezumi’s hands moved automatically pitting the cherries he complained so much about before. It’s funny how he was able to do it perfectly everytime now that he wasn’t constantly bitching about them. Irritated by his bangs falling onto his eyes as he tried to see the numbers of the scale, Shion gathered his now-shaggy white hair into a small bunch at the back of his nape and secured it with an elastic. He needs a haircut, Nezumi pondered. Though he did love to run his fingers through the fluffy white hair, maybe he won’t bring it up to Shion about the hair yet.
Shion mixed the ingredients carefully, folding in the butter, eggs and milk into the dry ingredients. He turned to the table to get his quartered cherries and found Nezumi’s eyes on him. A bowl of pitted sweet cherries half-full beside him. Shion smiled,
“Hi” he greeted.
“Hey” Nezumi answered, his hands had not stopped with their job.
“You’re almost done, good job” Shion gestured to the bowl.
“Great observation, Your Majesty”
Shion chuckled as he dropped the quartered cherries into his mixing bowl, folding them gently into the batter, distributing them without breaking it apart too much. The chunks of juicy cherries popping into your mouth as you bite the moist and dense cake would be delightful. He grabbed the tart tin and smeared the left over butter inside it, ensuring the cake would release from the mould easily. Golden brown crust forming the fluted edge perfectly.
When Nezumi was done with his share of cherries, Shion was closing the over door shut, setting the timer to thirty minutes. He congratulated Nezumi with a warm kiss on the lips, soft and slow, knowing instantly that Nezumi sneaked on a few cherries by the sweet taste of his lips.
“I’m glad I bought extra cherries back at the shop.” Shion murmured against Nezumi’s lips, “I knew you can’t help yourself on snacking on the clock”
Nezumi chuckled, his hands held out awkwardly, still wet and sticky with the dark red juice.
“Consider it a down payment for my service tonight, Your Majesty”
“Wash up and go rest in the living room then, I’ll finish up the topping and we can enjoy a cup of tea.” He ushered Nezumi to the sink.
After washing his hands, Nezumi stayed in the kitchen. Chin glued onto Shion’s shoulder, peeking through his white hair as Shion heated the pitted cherries in a big heavy duty soup pot. He loved seeing the cherries popped and watches the juice flowing out freely. The sweet and tart smell of the stewing cherries mingling with the baking cake in the oven was tickling Nezumi’s nose in a heavenly combination.
He tightened his grip onto Shion’s abdomen, pushing his lips in the snowy white locks, “Can’t you do it any faster?” He murmured against Shion’s temple, “I’m starving”
Shion rested his head back onto Nezumi’s shoulder, “Don’t rush me, Nezumi. You wouldn’t want me to burn this would you?” He poured the pre-measured sugar and cornstarch into the pot and mixed it gently with a wooden spoon. Shion blew on the thick sweet concoctions clinging on the spoon and offered it to Nezumi, “Want a taste?”
Nezumi leaned down and lick the offered treat. It was sweet, jammy, with a hint of freshness from the lemon juice Shion squeezed into it. Nezumi thought it was always the best part of their cherry cake. He’d always enjoyed jams and marmalades. They were an absolute luxury during his time in the west block. He can counted the times he had them with one hand. But not anymore now. The west block is no longer the desolate slump it was before. Shion made sure of that. Nezumi wondered if he could get a hold of a heap of good, fresh, strawberries during the summer, then Shion could make him some jam out of it. Yes. Shion would be delighted to.
“Hmmm?” Shion tilted his head, waiting for Nezumi’s judgment on the syrup cherry topping.
“Is good.” Nezumi murmured, licking his lips for leftover taste.
Shion beamed and took the pot off the heat. Now with no risk of Shion burning something, Nezumi spinned him around in his arms and kissed his significant other properly. Arm strong around Shion’s waist and fingers ruffling his fluffy white hair. The sweet taste of stewed cherries melted in their tongues, amidst the scent of baking cake and browned butter.
The oven timer dinged behind them.