Work Text:
"Jon? What're you still doing up?"
Ryan Haywood leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen to see Jon Risinger slaving over a bowl of batter. The kitchen timer only clocked in at 350 degrees, leaving Ryan to look to the microwave and know it was 1 in the morning.
"Oh, I, uh, couldn't sleep," Jon answered hastily, not looking up from the bowl.
"You're known to fall asleep at the drop of a pin at the office," Ryan pointed out, moving to get a glass of water. "You feeling okay?"
Jon shrugged, shaking chocolate chips into his work. Ryan cocked his head and peeked over Jon's shoulder.
"Celebrating being able to eat gluten then?" Ryan guessed.
Jon shook his head "no". He took out an ice cream scooper and started plopping balls of dough onto a cookie sheet.
"Well then, unless I'm forgetting someone's birthday, I'm at a loss. Why are you making chocolate chip cookies at this hour?"
"Stress, it's just a weird habit."
Ryan never considered stress baking as an actual thing. He and Jon had been dating for some time, but only recently rented an apartment together. Ryan never really knew of Jon's night habits, apart from the nights they spent at the other's home before the move.
"What're you stressed about, love?" Jon turned to put the cookies into the oven, but accidentally collided into Ryan and sent the dough flying all over the floor. After a moment of silence and disbelief, Jon's face crumpled and he began to cry.
"Jon, I am so so so sorry," Ryan said, picking up the dough pieces. "Here, we can still bake them! The gross stuff from the floor will cook off in the oven...?"
Jon nodded and also pointed to the bowl, still half full of dough waiting for the next batch. They got one tray of cookies into the oven and then sat down, waiting for cookies and also debunking Jon's stress.
"Now, what's going on?"
Jon explained how stressed he was from trying to keep the relationship afloat. He explained how stressed he felt now renting together and how terrified he was for the future. Ryan sighed, and while the cookies baked in the oven, the two of them had the deepest heart to heart that either of them had ever experienced. They were able to tell the other how they felt without either one of them taking offense and they were able to fix mistakes and figure out where their future was going, which only looked up. After a few more tears from the both of them, the kitchen timer dinged and they had a dozen freshly baked cookies at their fingertips. Jon put the remaining batch in and put the others on a plate for the two of them, along with some glasses of milk.
"I'm sorry I kept that all bottled in," Jon said.
"Hey, you could have worse stress habits," Ryan said, taking a bite of a cookie. "You're a fantastic baker, after all."