fic: frosting (andy skib/david cook), g
Title: Frosting
Rating: G
Pairing: Cook/Skib
Summary: Boys and baking = win
Notes: Written in about ten minutes, as an escape from the fic that's currently eating my brain (10k and counting). Inspired by celtic_fish's fic on davandy
Disclaimer: Totally fictional.
'This is totally insane,' David says, frowning. 'What were we thinking?'
Andy punches him on the shoulder and says, 'Shut up it's going to be awesome.'
'No, really,' David replies, staring helplessly around the disaster zone that the kitchen has become, 'I repeat, what were we thinking?'
Andy laughs, and shrugs. 'We were inspired,' he says. 'You can't deny inspiration; not if you're a creative person. You have to let the muse have her way.'
'That's bullshit,' David replies, but he's laughing. 'My mom is going to have a heart attack.'
'Nah, she'll be so happy you tried she won't care about the mess,' Andy decides, and then the oven pings. 'Ready!' he announces, and bends down to open the door, and pull out the cake tins. They stand back, eyeing the contents dubiously.
'Do you think it's... safe?' David asks finally.
Andy shivers. 'Is it me, or does the one on the left look like it's about to explode, Alien-style?' he asks.
'Oh, I didn't need that thought,' David says, and now he's kind of freaked out too. 'C'mon, we've got another twenty minutes; let's clean up while we wait for them to cool.'
He can't shake the feeling, as they pile everything into the dishwasher - and how the hell had they managed to use quite so many bowls and implements? He certainly doesn't remember the recipe calling for the grater, or the apple corer - that the damn cake is watching them. They scrub the counters, and the table, and the oven, and then he discovers there is cake mixture on the ceiling, what the hell?
'That was so you, man,' he says, pointing, and Andy squints upward.
'Well, you're the tall one, dude,' Andy says, gesturing at a chair.
David hops up and wipes the gunk off, and then surveys the kitchen critically. 'I think we did it,' he says, pleased.
'Okay, frosting now,' Andy announces, and he's holding a box of sugar in one hand and a block of butter in the other. 'It says you have to beat the butter hard,' he says, mouth quirking. 'I wonder if it likes it.'
David feels himself flushing, a little, and he jumps off the chair and coughs, to disguise it. The frosting is a lot easier than the cake was; it mostly just requires strong arms for the beating, so he and Andy fight about who can do it for longer, until they both give up, rubbing their biceps. 'Man, how does your mom do this all the time?' Andy asks, wincing a little.
David ignores him, carefully spooning cocoa powder into the mixture. 'Mmm, chocolatey,' he announces, dipping a finger in and licking it, thoughtfully. Andy makes a strange, strangled noise and he glances over, to find Andy staring at him - no, not at him, at his finger. This thing between them, this thing where sometimes they make out, is pretty new, but David's been flirting since he was old enough to walk, so he makes a little show of it, hollowing out his cheeks, and moaning with pleasure as he pulls his finger out slowly, eyes closed.
'Mmm,' he repeats, and then he says, 'Hey, Andy, you should totally try some,' and before he can lose his nerve, he dips his finger back in the bowl and scoops up some of the sticky-sweet frosting, and raises it. Andy's staring at his finger, dark eyes wide and unblinking, and then he takes a step forward and leans in, and it's totally awesome, Andy's mouth closing around his finger. He can feel Andy swallowing the frosting, and his tongue chasing the last few spots of chocolate down at the base of his finger, and it's kind of the hottest thing in, like, ever.
'Fuck, Andy,' he breathes, and Andy smirks at him, David's finger still in his mouth.
When his mom gets in, she smiles, widely. 'Oh, boys,' she says, delighted. The cake is sitting on the table, beautifully frosted, and no longer looking like a reject from a bad horror movie. The kitchen is spotless. She gives them both hugs, and pets David's hair as she draws back.
'Sweetie, thank you,' she says, and he grins and blushes and wishes her a happy birthday. 'I bet it tastes yummy,' she says. 'Should I wait for the others or can I try a slice now?'
David waves her on, trying not to look at Andy, and she cuts a big slice and takes a bite. 'Oh, this is delicious,' she says, sounding a little surprised, and he'd totally be hurt except that the only other thing he's cooked previously was spaghetti which wound up burned to the bottom of the pan and inedible, so he supposes she's allowed to be surprised. She picks up the knife and looks at them both.
'Do you two want to try a slice of your masterpiece?' she asks, and David says, 'Um, I'm actually a little full, thanks.' Andy nods in agreement, and his mom pauses, looking at them both a little more carefully. He runs a quick checklist in his head - there's a hickey on his neck but the collar of his shirt covers it; they've straightened out their hair and clothes; Andy's mouth is a little red, but that could totally just be from biting it - um, from Andy biting it.
'Oh,' his mom says, smiling, 'I see,' and he's rooted to the spot in terror, thinking, she knows. 'You boys must have helped yourself to the leftover frosting, hmm?' she says, and then she leans forward and runs a finger over David's neck, just below his ear. 'Although how you managed to get some there, I'll never know.'
She turns away, to cover up the cake for later, and David has a sudden vivid sense memory of exactly how that frosting got there, and he can't stop the little shiver that runs through him. 'Uh, mom, we're just going to go, uh, work on a song,' he says, forcing himself not to look at Andy.
'Of course, honey,' she says, 'Dinner will be at seven,' and they escape, mercifully.
'Man, that was close,' Andy whispers, as they go up to David's bedroom. David laughs, and opens the door, ushering Andy in.