Work Text:
Something smelled amazing.
Ashton wandered into the Spire by Fire, following the scent of cinnamon and sugar.
“What is that smell and how do I get it in my mouth?” Ashton asked Emir, who was manning the bar.
“Don’t look at me. This ain’t a baking establishment,” Emir replied. “That be your halfling buddy.”
Ashton tried not to visibly perk up, but they weren’t sure they were successful. Judging by Emir’s smirk, they were not at all successful.
“He’s been back there for a couple of hours,” Emir said. “Odds are whatever he’s baking is almost done.
Ashton gave a bright grin and headed toward the kitchen.
“Bring me one of whatever it is!” Emir called.
The earth genasi held up their middle finger and kept walking.
Walking into the kitchen was like getting hit in the face with a bag of sugar. The baker in question was perched on a stool at the sink, up to his elbows in soap suds.
“It smells fucking amazing in here,” Ashton said as they walked in.
Orym spun on the stool so quickly he nearly fell off, only saved by his reflexes.
“Whoa! Easy there, buddy,” Ashton said, crossing the room quickly. “Lost in your head there?”
“Something like that,” Orym said, flush high on his cheeks. Ashton didn’t think it was caused by the heat of the room.
“Everything okay?” Ashton asked.
“Yep!” Orym said as he hopped off the stool and walked over to the oven. His voice was perhaps a bit too bright, barely concealing uncharacteristic nerves.
“I can leave if you want. Just tell me to fuck off,” Ashton said. Three months into their “thing” (Ashton’s brain shied away from the word relationship), Ashton knew sometimes that Orym needed occasional time alone to organize his thoughts or meditate or whatever.
It seemed to keep him from jumping headfirst into too many life-threatening fights (with the lives this group led, that number was never going to be zero), so Ashton wasn’t complaining.
“No!” Orym almost shouted, nearly dropping the tray of delicious-smelling somethings he had just pulled out of the oven. “I wanted to surprise you, but you can help with this last part.”
“Surprise me?” Ashton asked. “You baked for me?”
The tips of Orym’s ears flushed
a rather fetching shade of
pink, but his eyes remained locked on Ashton’s. “Yes. I’ve been wanting to make these for you for awhile, but they’re time consuming. And we’ve been busy.”
Ashton snorted. “Busy” was an understatement.
“So what’d you make?” Ashton asked, stepping up to the table as Orym hopped onto another conveniently-placed stool and set the pan down. Once the pan was safely out of the way, Ashton wrapped an arm around Oyrm’s waist.
“They’re cinnamon rolls,” Orym said, gesturing to the pan of sweet-smelling, spiral shaped rolls. “The recipe has been in my family for a long time.”
“Yeah?”
Orym nodded and reached for a bowl containing a soft white icing. “Family legend says an an ancestor created this recipe to win some kind of baking competition and the heart of the judge. Since then, they only get made for special occasions: holidays, birthdays…” Here Orym’s gaze dropped and his entire face flushed. “...courting gifts.”
Ashton froze. “Courting gift? You’re planning to court me?”
“I’ve been trying to court you.” A thought seemed to occur to Orym. “But they don’t have to mean anything! They can just be baked goods if the idea is weird or makes you uncomfortable. I know I should have asked or talked it over with you but Fearne is weirdly invested in our relationship and said it would be cute…”
Ashton removed the bowl from Orym’s hands and set it down. Then they cupped Orym’s face in their hands and pressed their lips to his.
The kiss was softer, gentler than what they usually went for, and Orym seemed to melt into it.
“Holy shit. You really like me,” Ashton said, pulling back enough to rest their forehead against Orym’s.
“I thought that much at least was obvious,” Orym said.
“Well yeah, but there’s a big difference between liking someone enough to fuck them and liking them enough to make them a special recipe that was that was created to declare love to someone.”
Orym grinned and pressed his own kiss to Ashton’s lips, this one harder and ending with a gentle nip that had the genasi smothering a groan.
“Come on. Let’s get these iced while they’re still hot. While they cool, I’ll show you what we can do with the leftover icing.”