pocketpretzels | Midnight Manor Private Residence, Saturday Afternoon

"We'll have to eat it that much faster then," Steven said. "No harm done."

"If you say so," Watts said, sounding simultaneously disappointed and dubious.

Steven hugged him from behind. "I'm sorry, love. I don't mean to dismiss how you feel. Only to say I'm not disappointed if that's your concern."

"I am," Watts admitted, leaning back against Steven. "In myself."

Steven kissed his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know it's frustrating when it doesn't match what you wanted to make."

"The recipe even claimed it was 'easy'," Watts sighed. "Suppose they didn't take my clumsiness into account."

Steven moved his hands to cover Llewellyn's. "Sometimes recipes lie. Remember the one that said it would take thirty minutes?"

"All too well," Watts groaned.

"There were bloody onions in it!" Steven said. Yes, he was still bitter. But then he reminded himself the time it took to caramelize onions wasn't the point. "Anyway. Sometimes they lie. They mean it's easy if you're a professional chef. Or have a time machine."

Again, the onions.

"Hmph," Watts grumbled. "Neither of which is true in our case."

"Not unless you've been hiding things in closets I don't know about," Steven said, grinning to show he was joking.

"I don't make a habit of it, no," Watts replied.

"Neither do I," Steven said. Which was true of him and Marc as well. "We'll have to settle for being imperfect then it seems."

"You'd probably have better luck than I, with these," Watts admitted, gesturing to the biscuits.

Which was why he'd asked for Steven's help earlier, yes.

"Are you sure?" Steven asked, even though yes Llewellyn had asked earlier. "I don't wish to take it away from you if you'd rather."

"I'd rather they were done properly so the fillings don't slide about," Watts told him.

"All right." Steven kissed Llewellyn's cheek then let go of him so he could get into position for slicing. "But the one you just did is mine."

"If you insist," Watts said fondly, contemplating whether he ought to pick up the knife and try again.

"I do," Steven said as he started slicing into a biscuit. "You made it, so that's what I want."

"That's very sweet of you," Watts said, steeling himself and going to- very slowly- slice another biscuit.

"There's no rush," Steven said, gently so as not to distract Llewellyn while he was working. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Lucky me," Watts said fondly, carefully pushing the knife through the biscuit. And making a satisfied noise as it sliced in half- not perfectly, but good enough.

Steven smiled when he saw the results of Llewellyn's efforts. "Filling should stay well put in that."

"Here's hoping," Watts agreed, though he sounded optimistic.

Steven leaned over to give Llewellyn a kiss on the cheek. "I love how you bake for us on Saturdays."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject