Fic: The Sweet Shop Girl's Triad (Bandom, Bob/Greta/Spencer, 6600 words, Mature)
Summary: She and Bob have been friends for a good long while now, and nothing's happened. Maybe they're just not cut out to be two. The two of them and Spencer could make a good, strong triad, and she at least wants the chance to try.
Notes: I started writing this as a cheering up snippet for icanbreakthesky with the idea that five things she liked were cupcakes, space AUs, Bob, Greta, and Spencer; and then I kept writing bits and pieces with encouragement from her and siryn99.
Story on AO3
The guy who wanders into Greta's sweet shop has actual sunglasses pushed up onto his head and a beard that hides his mouth until he smiles at her. His clothes are expensive - it takes money to live on the station, and even more to live on the Upper Level - but casual.
Greta waves at him from the back. "Let me know if you have any questions."
The guy is nice enough to wait until she's finished piping the edging on a special order cake before he asks her, "What's good?"
"Everything's good. What do you like?"
The guy quirks an eyebrow at her. Most of her customers don't respond to the possible double entendre of that.
"I'm more of a fine chocolate guy, but I'm also buying for a couple of cupcake people."
"We can do both of those. I recommend the espresso bar for you. It's my best fine dark chocolate, with just a hint of coffee. Your cupcake people might like the red velvet, or I'm also known for the lemon."
"I'll take the espresso bar and one of each." The guy smiles again, and it lights up his face. "They can share or fight over them."
Greta smiles back at him. He's a lot friendlier than a lot of people who come into her shop. Upper Level shops bring in Upper Level customers who don't have to bother being polite.
"Good choice." Greta boxes them up and swipes his credit chip. "Come back any time."
The guy smiles, and she's pretty sure he's looking her over when he says, "I will."
Greta comms Bob the moment the doors slide closed behind the guy. "New guy on the station, just came into my shop."
"You have to stop calling me just to gossip." Greta can hear him tapping, though, which means he's looking up the cams on her store. "Spencer Smith," he says after a moment. "Planetside entertainment star. You really don't know who this guy is?"
"Not a clue." Greta pipes another line onto the cake. "You know I don't watch vid channels."
"You're going to want to watch this one. My quarters, 1900. I'll feed you."
Greta grins, and directs it up at the cam in case Bob is still watching. "I'll bring dessert."
*
"Wow." Greta forgets that she still has half a cupcake in her hand. There, on Bob's screen, is her customer from this morning, looking like sex behind a drum kit.
"Yeah." Bob's even stopped eating to watch. He pauses the vidscreen when the song is over. "They arrived on station two days ago. Guess that's what they're using their fortune for."
Greta licks at the frosting on her cupcake. "Single?"
She can't read the look Bob gives her.
"Dunno."
"Some security officer you are."
*
Since Bob showed her the vid, Greta recognizes the smiling guy who comes into her shop as Brendon. He's with a woman whose smile matches his.
"You made the best cupcakes we've ever had," he says.
Greta never can resist a compliment to her baking, and she grins at them. "Thank you. Back for more?"
"Yes," the woman says. "I think we're going to be in here a lot."
Brendon laughs. "Spencer's going to be in here a lot." The look he gives Greta is more friendly than lecherous. "You're just as pretty as he said."
Greta can feel the blush spread across her cheeks. "What can I get you?"
"I really want one of everything," the woman says. "Oh, look, dog biscuits! We're getting some of those for Bogart and Penny Lane." They pick out half a dozen cupcakes and then she says, "Should we get something for Spence too?"
Brendon smirks and says, "No. If he wants something, he can come in himself."
*
Greta and Bob are strolling through the public gardens in the Upper Level on their day off when they run into Spencer, Brendon, and the woman Brendon came into the shop with. They have two dogs on leashes, and they're all laughing.
Bob never did do the prying to find out if Spencer's single - or if he did, he didn't tell Greta - and the idea that they might be a triad is unexpectedly painful.
"The sweet shop girl!" Brendon says.
Greta grins at him. "It's Greta, actually. And this is Bob." There's a round of introductions where she learns the girl's name is Sarah and finds out which dog is Bogart and which is Penny Lane. Greta and Bob both crouch down to let the dogs sniff their hands.
"You're good with them," Spencer says. "Do you have dogs?"
"I wish." Greta looks up at him. He has his sunglasses over his eyes this time, but his mouth is smiling at her. At them, she corrects when Bob tips Bogart over to rub his belly and Spencer's smile widens. "Too expensive to keep dogs on the station."
"My ex has mine," Spencer says. "We were supposed to share custody, but it's hard to do when we're shuttling back and forth from the station." If he doesn't consider Bogart and Penny Lane to be his, maybe they're not a triad.
"You should come over," Sarah says. "We were going to hang out, maybe bake something. Nothing like your cupcakes."
Greta glances at Bob. "We'd love to." She stands and smiles at Sarah. "I'll even teach you one of my recipes if you want."
Sarah lights up at that. "Yes, please." She hands over the dog's leashes to Brendon and walks with Greta, leaving Bob and Spencer to walk along behind them. "I'm still having trouble getting things to come out right on the station."
"It's probably the humidity difference." If there's anything Greta knows about, it's baking on the station.
The place they go is large, but not ridiculously so by Upper Level standards, and it has a great kitchen. Brendon and Sarah get out ingredients, and Spencer writes the recipe down as Greta dictates it to him.
"How did you end up with a sweet shop on the station?" Brendon asks once the cupcakes are in the oven.
"I was married." Greta helps Sarah wipe the counters down to give herself something to do with her hands. "We lived here, Upper Level. My ex-husband met someone else and decided he didn't want to share him with me. I always liked to bake, so I took what I got in the divorce settlement and opened the shop." She actually has a lot more than just what went into the shop, but that's not something anyone needs to know. She trusts that Bob probably does, but most people wouldn't understand.
"You don't seem like the rest of the people we've met who live on the Upper Level," Sarah says. Greta likes her forthrightness.
"They're not all bad," Greta says. "Most of them are just bored."
Greta makes them wait for the cupcakes to cool before she whips up a frosting and puts it into bags. Sarah's fine on her own, Brendon chooses to watch, and Bob's an old pro at this, but Spencer's first cupcake is a disaster. Greta has to purse her lips to keep from laughing at him. Bob shoots her a look like he knows what she's doing.
"Here," he says, repositioning Spencer's hands on the bag. "It'll be easier this way."
*
Greta comes into the shop on Monday morning to find a recorded message waiting for her.
"I'm sorry to call you at work," Spencer says, "but I didn't have another comm code for you. I was hoping you and Bob would have dinner with me."
Greta comms Bob as she starts measuring out flour for the first batch of the day. "Spencer invited us to dinner."
"I know." That means Spencer was smart enough to get or figure out a comm code for Bob too.
"Are we going to go?" Greta looks up at the cam, hoping he's watching her while they have this conversation.
"Do you want to?"
Greta surprises even herself with how fierce her, "Yes," is. Yes, she wants it. She and Bob have been friends for a good long while now, and nothing's happened. Maybe they're just not cut out to be two. The two of them and Spencer could make a good, strong triad, and she at least wants the chance to try.
"I'll comm him," Bob says, "and let you know the details."
Greta blows a kiss at the cam. "You can help me make something to take for dessert."
Bob's low laugh echoes through her comm. "You got it."
*
Greta and Bob show up at Spencer's place exactly on time. It's nice - everything on the Upper Level is - but even more modest than Brendon and Sarah's place.
Spencer shows them in and brings them to the kitchen so Greta can put the wine they brought to go with dessert in to chill. Spencer looks at the bottle, then looks at Greta. She smiles at him, and he doesn't ask or comment on the fact that it's too expensive for someone running a small sweet shop, even on the Upper Level.
"What else did you bring?"
Greta holds the box away from him and tucks it into a corner of the counter. "It's a surprise. No peeking."
Spencer leans one hip on the counter. "What's going to stop me?"
"Me," Bob says, completely straight faced.
"Bob's my enforcer."
Spencer looks Bob over. "Yeah, we've got one of those when we travel." His lips turn up at the edges. "You're much better looking than Zack." Spencer doesn't give Bob time to respond to that - a good tactic, when complimenting Bob - but instead says, "I hope you're hungry. I've been cooking."
"It smells fantastic," Greta says.
"So far, it tastes pretty good." Spencer starts gathering up serving dishes. "Best part of cooking, you get to eat while you do it."
Bob steadies one of the dishes as Spencer pours some kind of thick soup into it. "Where does this go?"
"I can-" Spencer cuts himself off, obviously realizing the futility of it. "In there." He points through a doorway that leads to a dining room with a table that's been set for three.
"What can I help you with?" Greta asks.
"You two are determined to help, aren't you?"
"We're good guests."
Spencer gives an exaggerated sigh and keeps dishing things onto serving plates. "These can all go on the table."
Greta and Bob ferry things to the table until nothing's left, and Spencer opens a bottle of wine that's the last part of dinner.
"It's all vegetarian," Spencer says when they're seated at the table, Spencer at the head and Bob and Greta on either side of him, across from each other. "Bob told me."
"Thank you." It's more than a lot of people would do, although Bob always does when they eat together.
Dinner's good, and Spencer's good, too. He manages to draw Bob out enough, with only the barest help from Greta, to tell a couple of stories, and he doesn't even try to protest when they help him carry everything back to the kitchen.
Greta retrieves the box with dessert while Spencer uncorks the wine and directs Bob to the wine glasses.
"This should really be eaten somewhere decadently comfortable." Greta does mean it for the pairing of atmosphere with dessert, but also because she's ready for them to relax somewhere comfortable.
Spencer smiles like he knows exactly what she's doing, but takes them into the living room and his couch that has to be a wonder if it's even half as comfortable as it looks. Greta doesn't find out; she sits on the coffee table, pours them all wine, and opens the box in such a way that the lid hides the contents from Spencer's view.
"Now you're just torturing me." Spencer nudges Bob with his elbow. "Is this going to be worth it?"
Bob nudges him back. "You've eaten Greta's sweets." On anyone else, that would have been an innuendo - and Spencer flicks a glance at her that promises that he'd like to eat her more metaphorical sweets - but Bob says it straight.
"That I have." Spencer nods at her. "Okay, wow me again."
Greta takes a small bar of three squares out of the box. They're all three-square bars, one for each of them. It's unconventional, but she makes her own; she can do unconventional. It's easy enough to break the bar into three and hand each of them a piece.
"They're beautiful, too," Spencer says before he pops the chocolate into his mouth and his eyes drift shut over it.
"That's all Bob."
Spencer opens his eyes again and looks at Bob, who shrugs.
"I'm a pro by now." Bob doesn't go through the same savoring routine Spencer does, but Greta knows from the years of their friendship that he isn't any less appreciative of her talents.
For herself, Greta holds the chocolate on her tongue for a moment, letting it melt a little in the heat of her mouth, before biting down on it.
"Now the wine." Greta picks up her own glass and sips from it. It's a good pairing, the wine and the chocolate setting each other off without clashing or turning one or the other sour.
"I'm wowed," Spencer says after he drinks from his glass.
"I'm always wowed." Bob's eyes are soft on her.
Greta feels like she has to be glowing under their appreciation. She moves on to the next chocolate, a third, a fourth. There's a comfortable hum of tension underneath it, with Bob and Spencer looking at each other as much as they look at Greta, and by the time she gets to the fifth chocolate, she decides it's time to up the ante. When she breaks off the next piece, she doesn't hand it over. Instead, she shifts from her place on the coffee table to Spencer's lap.
"Open up," she says, and when Spencer does, she puts the chocolate on his tongue. Spencer knows how to take a cue; his lips close around her fingers before she can take them away.
"Perfect." Spencer follows up his appreciation by threading his hand into her hair. Greta doesn't need the pressure of it to tell her to lean down and meet his kiss. Taking a cue isn't the only thing he knows how to do. He kisses her slowly, exploring her mouth, like he's savoring her as much as he is dessert. The chocolate is even sweeter on his tongue.
"Your turn," Greta says, moving from Spencer's lap to Bob's, scooping up a second square of chocolate on the way.
Bob's smiling at her, nothing huge, just a turn of his lips and a crinkling around his eyes. He takes the chocolate from her with a more matter-of-fact swipe of tongue over her fingers than Spencer had. He's got the idea, though, so he cups his hand around the back of her neck when she leans in. Even though they've never done it before, kissing Bob feels familiar, the way it does when you know someone well enough to know how they do even the things you've never seen them do.
Greta pulls back with a smile just as Spencer leans toward them and says, "My turn," before he takes his turn with Bob. Greta reaches behind her for the last square of chocolate and savors the taste of it while she watches them kiss. She can still taste it when they pull her toward them.
The rest of the wine and chocolate goes untasted as they make out for a long time, slow and lazy like they're teenagers just discovering kissing, like they have all the time in the world. Greta is undeniably aroused, and she can feel, when she moves from one to the other of them, that both Bob and Spencer are hard. She wouldn't mind going to bed with them, or even staying here on the couch, but it's not that kind of a date. It's a getting to know you date, a marriage is a possibility date, which is why she eventually climbs off of them and begins the end to their evening.
There's still a while of lingering in Spencer's doorway while he kisses her and Bob in turn.
"Next time," Greta says, "you two can come to my place for dinner."
Spencer strokes her cheek, puts his other hand on Bob's arm. "I'm going to be planetside for most of the week. Thursday?"
Greta kisses him, runs down her mental accounting of her schedule and Bob's. "Yes."
Spencer grins over her head at Bob. "We'll bring dessert." He dips his head down to nuzzle at her cheek. "Even if we can't quite live up to you."
Greta catches his lips in a soft kiss and reaches for Bob's hand. "I'm sure you'll do fine."
Bob walks her home, her arm tucked into his. They kiss at her door. It's sweet and even more familiar now. Greta knows, even without looking, that Bob waits for the security measures to engage before he leaves.
*
Bob and Spencer turn up, together, five minutes early on Thursday. Greta loops her arms around each of their necks in turn and kisses them in the doorway.
"Come in," she says after two extremely satisfying kisses. Bob has been to her place before, but it's new to Spencer, so she takes him on a tour that starts with the kitchen. "Do I get to know what you brought, or is it a secret?"
"No secret." Spencer puts his arms around her from behind and nudges her hair aside to nuzzle her neck. "I brought back planetside fruit, and Bob brought cream and brandy he's promised to turn into an appropriate accompaniment."
Greta smiles and leans into Spencer. "It will be." She turns around and kisses his cheek. "Come see the rest of the house."
Greta's place is about the same size as Spencer's, but more expensive, with more open spaces and better light. Spencer's smart enough to figure things out from context clues.
"You play?" he asks when they get to her music room.
"Piano and guitar."
"And she sings," Bob says from behind them.
Greta pays that back the only way she can: "Bob drums."
Spencer turns away from her, all his attention on Bob. "Your hands." He takes Bob's hands, turns them palm up. "Drum calluses."
Greta presses her cheek to Bob's shoulder as she goes around them to finish getting dinner on the table. When Bob and Spencer make it into the kitchen, Bob's hair is standing up in the back and Spencer looks unbearably smug. Greta kisses Bob, using the moment to smooth his hair down.
Dinner conversation consists mostly of Spencer telling them about his trip planetside and coaxing Bob and Greta into talking about music.
After dinner, Spencer helps Greta put the leftovers away and the dishes in the dishwasher while Bob whips the cream. When he stops to taste it, Spencer hooks his chin over Bob's shoulder.
"How much has Greta taught you about desserts?"
"A lot," Greta says, "but he taught me how to make whipped cream. He still does it better." She leans up to kiss Bob's cheek.
"Here." Bob pops the beaters out of the mixer and hands one to each of them.
Greta licks at one strip of the beater. Bob's whipped cream is always delicious. She looks up from the beater. Both Bob and Spencer are watching her with hungry, gobsmacked looks on their faces. Greta can feel her lips curve up into a smile.
"Maybe," Spencer says, "you should have given both of these to Greta. She could show us how it's done."
Greta raises her eyebrows at him. "Are you saying you don't know what to do with it?"
The corners of Spencer's eyes crinkle when he grins at her. "I have some idea."
Bob's gaze jerks from Greta to Spencer and back again as they take turns licking every last bit of cream from their respective beaters. He lets out an exhale when they dump the beaters into the sink.
Greta nuzzles the underside of his jaw before getting the plate of fruit.
Greta's couch isn't as sinfully decadent as Spencer's, so instead she has cushions laid out in a cluster in front of the mock fireplace. She turns it on. The station is too regulated for it to be the kind that gives off heat, but it's pretty, and the light plays off of their skin, painting flickering shadows on Bob and Spencer's faces.
The fruit is all fresh, some of it sweet on its own, some of it tangy enough that it needs the softening touch of the whipped cream. Greta gets the first piece, Spencer picking it up and swiping it through the cream before holding it to her lips. She goes next, feeding him back, then he gives a piece to Bob.
It takes a very long time to get through the platter. By then, their fingers are sticky, their lips swollen, their breath coming short and fast.
Again, they stop before it gets any further than lips pressing together and hands holding each other close.
"My place next time," Bob says.
Greta kisses him at the door. Kisses Spencer and says, "I'll comm you about helping me with dessert." She waits until they're out of sight to close the door.
*
Greta comms Spencer twenty minutes before he's supposed to show up at her place. "I'm shorthanded." She suspects she sounds as frazzled as she feels. "Can you come to the shop instead?"
Fifteen minutes later, Spencer walks through the door of her shop, looking every bit as cool and casual as the first time. He's managed to time it perfectly so the shop is, for only the third time all day, empty of anyone else. Greta half suspects him of checking with Bob, his timing is so good.
Spencer comes around the counter and kisses her, his hands stroking over and through her hair.
Greta clings to him for a minute, absolutely grateful to have someone to lean on, if only for a moment. "Thank you."
Spencer presses a kiss to her forehead. "Any time." He steps back. "What are we making? More chocolate?"
"No." Greta gets him an apron from the coat-turned-apron rack. "Bob likes lemon. Do you know how to zest one?"
Spencer ties the apron behind him. "Not a clue."
"First lesson, then." Greta hands him a lemon and a zester. "Just scrape that along the lemon. You don't want to get too deep into the peel."
She watches him do the first one. He has a deft touch, and the way his forehead wrinkles in concentration makes her want to kiss it to smooth it out.
"That's good. When you're done with that one, you can do the rest of these." She gestures at the other lemons on the counter. "We're not going to use it all, but I'll use it eventually, and we'll want to juice all of them."
"What are we making?" Spencer finishes the first lemon and moves on to the second.
"Lemon squares." Greta measures out butter, flour, and sugar into the bowl of one of the mixers. "They're easy enough, and Bob loves them." She turns on the mixer and smiles across at Spencer. "You'll like them, I promise."
"I'm sure of that." Spencer smiles back at her. "I've liked all of your sweets so far."
It's almost funny, how he manages to say it in a way that's both a gentle compliment and a come-on. Greta leaves the mixer running and leans over the corner of the counter to kiss him. She only stops when the door opens and the chime goes. She gauges both the customers - nanny, she thinks, and a couple of Upper Level kids - and the dough before turning off the mixer for the duration.
The nanny says, "One thing each," and Greta crouches down next to the kids and the case to answer questions and help them choose. When she glances up, the nanny isn't paying any attention to them.
Greta has to step between her and the view into the back to get her attention enough to ring her up.
"New employee?" the nanny asks, tilting her head to look around Greta even as she hands over a credit chip.
Greta glances over her shoulder at Spencer patiently scraping the zester over a lemon. "No."
"Sweetheart," Spencer says a moment later, his voice gone just a little false, "these are done. What next?"
Greta doesn't even have to fake her smile. "Just a minute, honey." She keeps smiling as the nanny makes eyes at Spencer on her way out. Then she collapses into giggles.
Spencer tips her chin up when she goes to him, and kisses her smile until her giggles break them apart.
"Here." Greta hands him the juicer and a knife. "Do all of those. I'm going to get the crust ready." She has her hands in it, pushing it down into the pan, when the chime sounds again. "I'll be right there," she calls, but before she can do more than take her hands out of the crust, Spencer sets the lemons down and wipes his hands on a towel.
He squeezes her hip as he passes her. "What can I get you?"
The customers are a trio of Upper Level girls, young teenagers Greta's seen in the shop often enough that they're familiar to her. The girls' eyes widen, and all three of them hang back, two of them turning to giggle into each other's shoulders.
Spencer takes it all in stride, waiting for them to calm down a little before telling them, "I don't know if you've been in here before, but Greta's cupcakes are the best, even better than anything you can get planetside," and coaxing them all into letting him take their orders and their credits. He slips a signed napkin into each of their bags.
"If the entertainer gig doesn't work out for you, you have a promising career in customer service," Greta says.
Spencer laughs. "Brendon used to work at this planetside smoothie place when we were younger." He shrugs one shoulder. "Ryan and I spent a lot of time hanging around and getting in the way. I can swipe a credit chip with the best of them." He puts his arms around Greta and tucks his face into her neck. "What do you want me to do next?"
Greta walks him through making the filling while the crust bakes. They take turns serving the customers, Greta taking the adults who know her, and Spencer getting even the most sullen of teenagers to smile when he swipes their credit chips. He takes the next nanny with children, and crouches down to talk to the four-year-old about the various merits of chocolate versus raspberry frosting. Greta makes a note of the time so she can tell Bob when he can skip to on the footage from the cams. She would comm him now, but she set the precedent of dessert being a surprise, and now she's stuck with it.
Greta has other things to do while they wait for the crust to be ready for the filling, and later, while the whole thing cooks. She and Spencer talk while she does them, when there aren't customers demanding their attention - Greta takes two custom cake orders; Spencer sells two dozen miniature chocolate bars to a woman who needs a gift for a first date - and it's nice, getting to know Spencer. He flirts sweetly and continuously, loves Brendon to death, and talks fondly about his family.
He stays until the bars have cooled enough to dust powdered sugar over them, and helps her arrange them into a box.
"I know you're better at it," he says, "but I want to help with everything."
Greta can't resist him, and she stretches up to kiss him until the chime goes again.
"Go home," she says after that. "I'm going to close up in a bit and clean up so I'm date appropriate. You can pick me up at home."
"You're always lovely," Spencer says, seeming to mean every word of it. He kisses her before he goes, and again when he comes to her door later.
Greta feels better for a shower and a change of clothes, and she takes Spencer's arm easily, lets him take the bakery box while she leads him to Bob's place. He lives Mid Level, in a place that doesn't even begin to touch the space or style of either Greta's or Spencer's. He's made it his own, though, comfortable and homey.
He hugs Greta the moment he lets them in, and she hugs back gratefully, burying her face in his chest. Spencer was wonderful for cheering her up when she was stressed about baking, but for comfort at the end of a long day, there's nothing like Bob. He kisses her carefully, and Spencer less so, and takes Spencer on a tour that ends in the spare bedroom where Bob keeps his drum kit.
Spencer lights up. "Play something for me."
Bob shakes his head. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Come on. I want to hear you." Spencer takes Bob's hand between both of his. He's completely earnest about it.
"One song," Greta says, ignoring Bob's glare. "I'll sing with you."
So Bob pounds out a beat, Greta provides the melody, and their audience of one whistles, cheers, and tries to kiss both of them at once when they're done.
Bob drags them both to the kitchen and makes them carry things to the table, all three of them laughing and touching each other at every chance. Dinner is just as light, and it wipes away the last lingering bits of Greta's day.
They put everything away, Greta helping because she's been in Bob's kitchen before and Spencer watching, no doubt so he can help next time. Greta takes the bakery box and a stack of napkins from the kitchen and makes them all sit on the floor in the living room.
"Trust me," she says. "You don't want this stuff on your couch." She sits along one long side of the coffee table, Bob next to her and Spencer on her other side, along the short side of the table.
Greta cut the lemon bars smaller than she would for the shop, so they're easier to hold and eat without getting filling everywhere. Skin is fine - she's counting on filling and sugar getting all over that - but clothes are something else.
She picks one of the bars up and holds it out to Bob.
"Lemon bars." Bob's smile is both pleased and a little surprised. Someday Greta hopes to get him over the surprise, to a place where he sees her doing nice things for him as normal. That smile is still curving his lips when he bites into it.
Greta feeds the other half to Spencer, but lets Bob lick the filling and sugar off her fingers. When she turns to the table again, Spencer has one of the bars waiting for her. They did a good job on them. They're just the right combination of sweet and tart, the crust just enough to hold them together without taking over.
Spencer takes the other half, but tilts it first, pressing his fingers into it, so a bit of filling and sugar lands on Greta's skin, over her collarbone where her shirt leaves it bare.
"Oops," Spencer says, patently unapologetic. "Someone should clean that up." He looks at Bob, and Greta lets them negotiate it between themselves. In the end, it's Spencer who bends down to lick across her chest. It makes Greta's breath come faster, and Spencer pulls away only for his eyes to slide down to her breasts, which are actually heaving. It's ridiculous, but also so much fun that she laughs a little breathlessly and sees the same joy in Spencer's eyes when he drags them back up her body to her face.
Greta takes the next bar, doesn't even pretend to eat it, and swipes through the filling to paint it into the hollow of Spencer's neck. Then she leans back, knowing Bob can't be far behind her, has to be leaning over to watch them, and tilts her head up to him. "We made them for you. You should really have more of a taste."
Bob's lips brush hers before he leans across her, his body heavy where it's leaning on her, to lick his way over Spencer's skin.
Greta lets herself melt against his chest when he sits back. He swipes his fingers through the same bar she did, and she takes his hand to suck his fingers into her mouth before he can do anything more with it. Bob nuzzles her neck, and Spencer watches them both avidly, and it's the best third date Greta's ever been on.
*
They've been dating a while, enough weeks that they're comfortable with each other, that Greta knows they're not testing each other out anymore so much as practicing what it's like to be together, when Spencer invites Bob and Greta to come with him on a trip planetside.
"I'm thinking about selling my house down there," he says when he asks. "I'm spending most of my time up here, and Brendon and I are talking about going in on a smaller place we can just share when we're down there. But it's a great house, and I want you to see it." He takes both their hands. "And I want you to see what my life is like planetside." He looks down, at their hands instead of meeting their eyes. "There's a risk to it. Brendon and I get left alone up here, especially on the Upper Level, but things are different planetside. There are a lot more people watching us."
Greta meets Bob's eyes over his head, and they don't need to speak to know what they're both thinking about it. Bob's worried about security but willing, and Greta doesn't care what other people say anyway.
"Of course we'd like to go," Greta says for them. "We'd love to see what the great Spencer Smith is like when he's at home on the planet."
Spencer laughs, just as she meant him to, and kisses both of them, and they get distracted for a while before they get back to making plans.
True to his word, Spencer's planetside house is a great house. It's huge, easily twice the size of his place on the station. Spencer gives them a tour and shows them each to one of the guest rooms. The one he puts Greta in is a lovely room, but she doesn't plan to spend much time there.
They go out for dinner with Brendon and Sarah, to somewhere comfortable and less trendy than Greta would have guessed, even having known them for a while now. The five of them eat and laugh and drink, good planetside wine and plenty of fresh produce for Greta.
Greta's still giggly when they get back to Spencer's, smiling at both him and Bob in turn, and looping her arm through Spencer's, pinching Bob's ass, until Spencer makes her let go so he can open the door and Bob picks her up so she has to put her arms around his neck to keep from falling and can't reach his ass. She wraps her legs around him anyway, so her heels dig into it.
"No," Greta says when Bob starts to carry her to her room. "Spencer's." Bob stops, and she risks leaning back enough to meet his eyes, trusting that he won't drop her. They stare at each other for a long time while Spencer waits next to them. Greta's ready, and she's pretty sure Spencer will go along whenever they want to. It's only Bob she has to convince.
"Spencer's," she says, looking Bob in the eye the whole time. "Please."
Bob looks back at her, taking it every bit as seriously as she is, and she knows he's thought it through and means it when he nods.
Greta turns her head to Spencer. "Okay?"
"Yes." Spencer puts one hand on her back and the other on Bob's neck. He kisses Bob first, the two of them so close to her that Greta can see where their mouths connect, part, connect again. He kisses Greta next, and she has to remember not to let go of Bob so she doesn't fall because she wants to be touching Spencer.
When Spencer stops kissing her, Bob changes direction, and the three of them go to Spencer's room. He has the biggest bed. Besides, it's his house, and Greta isn't above making sure she and Bob leave their mark on the center of it.
Bob doesn't put her down when they get there, but he does hitch her up a little so he can kiss her.
Greta smiles into the kiss, and keeps smiling when Bob does put her down after it. She almost can't believe they're here, at this point. She knows, they all have to know, that it's not just about sex now. It's about them. They're committed, the three of them, to each other.
Greta laughs out loud with sheer joy, and it brings out an answering smile from Spencer. He comes forward to kiss her, one hand in her hair and the other pulling Bob close.
"Let's get you undressed," Spencer murmurs in her ear, and he starts working on the buttons down the front her dress.
"You too." Greta tries to get at the buttons on his shirt, but he pushes her hands away.
"You're getting in my way."
Greta sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes, which only serves to make Spencer laugh, so she turns her best appealing gaze on Bob. He's much more biddable, and Spencer can't - and doesn't - object to him undoing buttons too until Spencer's shirt is hanging open over his chest. Spencer pushes her dress off her shoulders and turns her toward Bob.
"Bob's behind."
Greta nods and watches Bob's gaze skitter from her breasts to her hips to her calves. "You should take care of that." Greta wants to get her hands on Bob, on all of him, but the look on his face is mostly wonder, and she doesn't want to do anything to make him think he has to look anywhere else. He can have this, he can have her and Spencer, and he should know that. "You should know that," she says out loud because she's still a little drunk and it seems like a good idea.
Bob drags his eyes up to her face, a quirk of his eyebrows asking her what she's talking about.
"We're yours." By the time Greta takes the half-step to reach Bob, Spencer has gotten his shirt off and she fetches up against the bare breadth of his chest.
Bob gathers her into him, all that skin under her hands. Greta stands up on her toes to kiss him, and then doesn't have to because Bob picks her up again. He lays her out on Spencer's bed and leans over her so they can keep kissing.
Greta flails one hand out, and Spencer catches it. Greta makes a pleased noise into Bob's mouth, and a moment later, Spencer joins them, shirt off and stretched out alongside Greta.
"We're yours," Spencer says, and Bob kisses him without letting go of Greta.
"I'm yours," Bob says, and it's even better than him claiming them as his.
Greta smiles at him, and reaches for both of them. All the things that never happened when it was just the two of them work with Spencer making them into a triad.
Notes: I started writing this as a cheering up snippet for icanbreakthesky with the idea that five things she liked were cupcakes, space AUs, Bob, Greta, and Spencer; and then I kept writing bits and pieces with encouragement from her and siryn99.
Story on AO3
The guy who wanders into Greta's sweet shop has actual sunglasses pushed up onto his head and a beard that hides his mouth until he smiles at her. His clothes are expensive - it takes money to live on the station, and even more to live on the Upper Level - but casual.
Greta waves at him from the back. "Let me know if you have any questions."
The guy is nice enough to wait until she's finished piping the edging on a special order cake before he asks her, "What's good?"
"Everything's good. What do you like?"
The guy quirks an eyebrow at her. Most of her customers don't respond to the possible double entendre of that.
"I'm more of a fine chocolate guy, but I'm also buying for a couple of cupcake people."
"We can do both of those. I recommend the espresso bar for you. It's my best fine dark chocolate, with just a hint of coffee. Your cupcake people might like the red velvet, or I'm also known for the lemon."
"I'll take the espresso bar and one of each." The guy smiles again, and it lights up his face. "They can share or fight over them."
Greta smiles back at him. He's a lot friendlier than a lot of people who come into her shop. Upper Level shops bring in Upper Level customers who don't have to bother being polite.
"Good choice." Greta boxes them up and swipes his credit chip. "Come back any time."
The guy smiles, and she's pretty sure he's looking her over when he says, "I will."
Greta comms Bob the moment the doors slide closed behind the guy. "New guy on the station, just came into my shop."
"You have to stop calling me just to gossip." Greta can hear him tapping, though, which means he's looking up the cams on her store. "Spencer Smith," he says after a moment. "Planetside entertainment star. You really don't know who this guy is?"
"Not a clue." Greta pipes another line onto the cake. "You know I don't watch vid channels."
"You're going to want to watch this one. My quarters, 1900. I'll feed you."
Greta grins, and directs it up at the cam in case Bob is still watching. "I'll bring dessert."
*
"Wow." Greta forgets that she still has half a cupcake in her hand. There, on Bob's screen, is her customer from this morning, looking like sex behind a drum kit.
"Yeah." Bob's even stopped eating to watch. He pauses the vidscreen when the song is over. "They arrived on station two days ago. Guess that's what they're using their fortune for."
Greta licks at the frosting on her cupcake. "Single?"
She can't read the look Bob gives her.
"Dunno."
"Some security officer you are."
*
Since Bob showed her the vid, Greta recognizes the smiling guy who comes into her shop as Brendon. He's with a woman whose smile matches his.
"You made the best cupcakes we've ever had," he says.
Greta never can resist a compliment to her baking, and she grins at them. "Thank you. Back for more?"
"Yes," the woman says. "I think we're going to be in here a lot."
Brendon laughs. "Spencer's going to be in here a lot." The look he gives Greta is more friendly than lecherous. "You're just as pretty as he said."
Greta can feel the blush spread across her cheeks. "What can I get you?"
"I really want one of everything," the woman says. "Oh, look, dog biscuits! We're getting some of those for Bogart and Penny Lane." They pick out half a dozen cupcakes and then she says, "Should we get something for Spence too?"
Brendon smirks and says, "No. If he wants something, he can come in himself."
*
Greta and Bob are strolling through the public gardens in the Upper Level on their day off when they run into Spencer, Brendon, and the woman Brendon came into the shop with. They have two dogs on leashes, and they're all laughing.
Bob never did do the prying to find out if Spencer's single - or if he did, he didn't tell Greta - and the idea that they might be a triad is unexpectedly painful.
"The sweet shop girl!" Brendon says.
Greta grins at him. "It's Greta, actually. And this is Bob." There's a round of introductions where she learns the girl's name is Sarah and finds out which dog is Bogart and which is Penny Lane. Greta and Bob both crouch down to let the dogs sniff their hands.
"You're good with them," Spencer says. "Do you have dogs?"
"I wish." Greta looks up at him. He has his sunglasses over his eyes this time, but his mouth is smiling at her. At them, she corrects when Bob tips Bogart over to rub his belly and Spencer's smile widens. "Too expensive to keep dogs on the station."
"My ex has mine," Spencer says. "We were supposed to share custody, but it's hard to do when we're shuttling back and forth from the station." If he doesn't consider Bogart and Penny Lane to be his, maybe they're not a triad.
"You should come over," Sarah says. "We were going to hang out, maybe bake something. Nothing like your cupcakes."
Greta glances at Bob. "We'd love to." She stands and smiles at Sarah. "I'll even teach you one of my recipes if you want."
Sarah lights up at that. "Yes, please." She hands over the dog's leashes to Brendon and walks with Greta, leaving Bob and Spencer to walk along behind them. "I'm still having trouble getting things to come out right on the station."
"It's probably the humidity difference." If there's anything Greta knows about, it's baking on the station.
The place they go is large, but not ridiculously so by Upper Level standards, and it has a great kitchen. Brendon and Sarah get out ingredients, and Spencer writes the recipe down as Greta dictates it to him.
"How did you end up with a sweet shop on the station?" Brendon asks once the cupcakes are in the oven.
"I was married." Greta helps Sarah wipe the counters down to give herself something to do with her hands. "We lived here, Upper Level. My ex-husband met someone else and decided he didn't want to share him with me. I always liked to bake, so I took what I got in the divorce settlement and opened the shop." She actually has a lot more than just what went into the shop, but that's not something anyone needs to know. She trusts that Bob probably does, but most people wouldn't understand.
"You don't seem like the rest of the people we've met who live on the Upper Level," Sarah says. Greta likes her forthrightness.
"They're not all bad," Greta says. "Most of them are just bored."
Greta makes them wait for the cupcakes to cool before she whips up a frosting and puts it into bags. Sarah's fine on her own, Brendon chooses to watch, and Bob's an old pro at this, but Spencer's first cupcake is a disaster. Greta has to purse her lips to keep from laughing at him. Bob shoots her a look like he knows what she's doing.
"Here," he says, repositioning Spencer's hands on the bag. "It'll be easier this way."
*
Greta comes into the shop on Monday morning to find a recorded message waiting for her.
"I'm sorry to call you at work," Spencer says, "but I didn't have another comm code for you. I was hoping you and Bob would have dinner with me."
Greta comms Bob as she starts measuring out flour for the first batch of the day. "Spencer invited us to dinner."
"I know." That means Spencer was smart enough to get or figure out a comm code for Bob too.
"Are we going to go?" Greta looks up at the cam, hoping he's watching her while they have this conversation.
"Do you want to?"
Greta surprises even herself with how fierce her, "Yes," is. Yes, she wants it. She and Bob have been friends for a good long while now, and nothing's happened. Maybe they're just not cut out to be two. The two of them and Spencer could make a good, strong triad, and she at least wants the chance to try.
"I'll comm him," Bob says, "and let you know the details."
Greta blows a kiss at the cam. "You can help me make something to take for dessert."
Bob's low laugh echoes through her comm. "You got it."
*
Greta and Bob show up at Spencer's place exactly on time. It's nice - everything on the Upper Level is - but even more modest than Brendon and Sarah's place.
Spencer shows them in and brings them to the kitchen so Greta can put the wine they brought to go with dessert in to chill. Spencer looks at the bottle, then looks at Greta. She smiles at him, and he doesn't ask or comment on the fact that it's too expensive for someone running a small sweet shop, even on the Upper Level.
"What else did you bring?"
Greta holds the box away from him and tucks it into a corner of the counter. "It's a surprise. No peeking."
Spencer leans one hip on the counter. "What's going to stop me?"
"Me," Bob says, completely straight faced.
"Bob's my enforcer."
Spencer looks Bob over. "Yeah, we've got one of those when we travel." His lips turn up at the edges. "You're much better looking than Zack." Spencer doesn't give Bob time to respond to that - a good tactic, when complimenting Bob - but instead says, "I hope you're hungry. I've been cooking."
"It smells fantastic," Greta says.
"So far, it tastes pretty good." Spencer starts gathering up serving dishes. "Best part of cooking, you get to eat while you do it."
Bob steadies one of the dishes as Spencer pours some kind of thick soup into it. "Where does this go?"
"I can-" Spencer cuts himself off, obviously realizing the futility of it. "In there." He points through a doorway that leads to a dining room with a table that's been set for three.
"What can I help you with?" Greta asks.
"You two are determined to help, aren't you?"
"We're good guests."
Spencer gives an exaggerated sigh and keeps dishing things onto serving plates. "These can all go on the table."
Greta and Bob ferry things to the table until nothing's left, and Spencer opens a bottle of wine that's the last part of dinner.
"It's all vegetarian," Spencer says when they're seated at the table, Spencer at the head and Bob and Greta on either side of him, across from each other. "Bob told me."
"Thank you." It's more than a lot of people would do, although Bob always does when they eat together.
Dinner's good, and Spencer's good, too. He manages to draw Bob out enough, with only the barest help from Greta, to tell a couple of stories, and he doesn't even try to protest when they help him carry everything back to the kitchen.
Greta retrieves the box with dessert while Spencer uncorks the wine and directs Bob to the wine glasses.
"This should really be eaten somewhere decadently comfortable." Greta does mean it for the pairing of atmosphere with dessert, but also because she's ready for them to relax somewhere comfortable.
Spencer smiles like he knows exactly what she's doing, but takes them into the living room and his couch that has to be a wonder if it's even half as comfortable as it looks. Greta doesn't find out; she sits on the coffee table, pours them all wine, and opens the box in such a way that the lid hides the contents from Spencer's view.
"Now you're just torturing me." Spencer nudges Bob with his elbow. "Is this going to be worth it?"
Bob nudges him back. "You've eaten Greta's sweets." On anyone else, that would have been an innuendo - and Spencer flicks a glance at her that promises that he'd like to eat her more metaphorical sweets - but Bob says it straight.
"That I have." Spencer nods at her. "Okay, wow me again."
Greta takes a small bar of three squares out of the box. They're all three-square bars, one for each of them. It's unconventional, but she makes her own; she can do unconventional. It's easy enough to break the bar into three and hand each of them a piece.
"They're beautiful, too," Spencer says before he pops the chocolate into his mouth and his eyes drift shut over it.
"That's all Bob."
Spencer opens his eyes again and looks at Bob, who shrugs.
"I'm a pro by now." Bob doesn't go through the same savoring routine Spencer does, but Greta knows from the years of their friendship that he isn't any less appreciative of her talents.
For herself, Greta holds the chocolate on her tongue for a moment, letting it melt a little in the heat of her mouth, before biting down on it.
"Now the wine." Greta picks up her own glass and sips from it. It's a good pairing, the wine and the chocolate setting each other off without clashing or turning one or the other sour.
"I'm wowed," Spencer says after he drinks from his glass.
"I'm always wowed." Bob's eyes are soft on her.
Greta feels like she has to be glowing under their appreciation. She moves on to the next chocolate, a third, a fourth. There's a comfortable hum of tension underneath it, with Bob and Spencer looking at each other as much as they look at Greta, and by the time she gets to the fifth chocolate, she decides it's time to up the ante. When she breaks off the next piece, she doesn't hand it over. Instead, she shifts from her place on the coffee table to Spencer's lap.
"Open up," she says, and when Spencer does, she puts the chocolate on his tongue. Spencer knows how to take a cue; his lips close around her fingers before she can take them away.
"Perfect." Spencer follows up his appreciation by threading his hand into her hair. Greta doesn't need the pressure of it to tell her to lean down and meet his kiss. Taking a cue isn't the only thing he knows how to do. He kisses her slowly, exploring her mouth, like he's savoring her as much as he is dessert. The chocolate is even sweeter on his tongue.
"Your turn," Greta says, moving from Spencer's lap to Bob's, scooping up a second square of chocolate on the way.
Bob's smiling at her, nothing huge, just a turn of his lips and a crinkling around his eyes. He takes the chocolate from her with a more matter-of-fact swipe of tongue over her fingers than Spencer had. He's got the idea, though, so he cups his hand around the back of her neck when she leans in. Even though they've never done it before, kissing Bob feels familiar, the way it does when you know someone well enough to know how they do even the things you've never seen them do.
Greta pulls back with a smile just as Spencer leans toward them and says, "My turn," before he takes his turn with Bob. Greta reaches behind her for the last square of chocolate and savors the taste of it while she watches them kiss. She can still taste it when they pull her toward them.
The rest of the wine and chocolate goes untasted as they make out for a long time, slow and lazy like they're teenagers just discovering kissing, like they have all the time in the world. Greta is undeniably aroused, and she can feel, when she moves from one to the other of them, that both Bob and Spencer are hard. She wouldn't mind going to bed with them, or even staying here on the couch, but it's not that kind of a date. It's a getting to know you date, a marriage is a possibility date, which is why she eventually climbs off of them and begins the end to their evening.
There's still a while of lingering in Spencer's doorway while he kisses her and Bob in turn.
"Next time," Greta says, "you two can come to my place for dinner."
Spencer strokes her cheek, puts his other hand on Bob's arm. "I'm going to be planetside for most of the week. Thursday?"
Greta kisses him, runs down her mental accounting of her schedule and Bob's. "Yes."
Spencer grins over her head at Bob. "We'll bring dessert." He dips his head down to nuzzle at her cheek. "Even if we can't quite live up to you."
Greta catches his lips in a soft kiss and reaches for Bob's hand. "I'm sure you'll do fine."
Bob walks her home, her arm tucked into his. They kiss at her door. It's sweet and even more familiar now. Greta knows, even without looking, that Bob waits for the security measures to engage before he leaves.
*
Bob and Spencer turn up, together, five minutes early on Thursday. Greta loops her arms around each of their necks in turn and kisses them in the doorway.
"Come in," she says after two extremely satisfying kisses. Bob has been to her place before, but it's new to Spencer, so she takes him on a tour that starts with the kitchen. "Do I get to know what you brought, or is it a secret?"
"No secret." Spencer puts his arms around her from behind and nudges her hair aside to nuzzle her neck. "I brought back planetside fruit, and Bob brought cream and brandy he's promised to turn into an appropriate accompaniment."
Greta smiles and leans into Spencer. "It will be." She turns around and kisses his cheek. "Come see the rest of the house."
Greta's place is about the same size as Spencer's, but more expensive, with more open spaces and better light. Spencer's smart enough to figure things out from context clues.
"You play?" he asks when they get to her music room.
"Piano and guitar."
"And she sings," Bob says from behind them.
Greta pays that back the only way she can: "Bob drums."
Spencer turns away from her, all his attention on Bob. "Your hands." He takes Bob's hands, turns them palm up. "Drum calluses."
Greta presses her cheek to Bob's shoulder as she goes around them to finish getting dinner on the table. When Bob and Spencer make it into the kitchen, Bob's hair is standing up in the back and Spencer looks unbearably smug. Greta kisses Bob, using the moment to smooth his hair down.
Dinner conversation consists mostly of Spencer telling them about his trip planetside and coaxing Bob and Greta into talking about music.
After dinner, Spencer helps Greta put the leftovers away and the dishes in the dishwasher while Bob whips the cream. When he stops to taste it, Spencer hooks his chin over Bob's shoulder.
"How much has Greta taught you about desserts?"
"A lot," Greta says, "but he taught me how to make whipped cream. He still does it better." She leans up to kiss Bob's cheek.
"Here." Bob pops the beaters out of the mixer and hands one to each of them.
Greta licks at one strip of the beater. Bob's whipped cream is always delicious. She looks up from the beater. Both Bob and Spencer are watching her with hungry, gobsmacked looks on their faces. Greta can feel her lips curve up into a smile.
"Maybe," Spencer says, "you should have given both of these to Greta. She could show us how it's done."
Greta raises her eyebrows at him. "Are you saying you don't know what to do with it?"
The corners of Spencer's eyes crinkle when he grins at her. "I have some idea."
Bob's gaze jerks from Greta to Spencer and back again as they take turns licking every last bit of cream from their respective beaters. He lets out an exhale when they dump the beaters into the sink.
Greta nuzzles the underside of his jaw before getting the plate of fruit.
Greta's couch isn't as sinfully decadent as Spencer's, so instead she has cushions laid out in a cluster in front of the mock fireplace. She turns it on. The station is too regulated for it to be the kind that gives off heat, but it's pretty, and the light plays off of their skin, painting flickering shadows on Bob and Spencer's faces.
The fruit is all fresh, some of it sweet on its own, some of it tangy enough that it needs the softening touch of the whipped cream. Greta gets the first piece, Spencer picking it up and swiping it through the cream before holding it to her lips. She goes next, feeding him back, then he gives a piece to Bob.
It takes a very long time to get through the platter. By then, their fingers are sticky, their lips swollen, their breath coming short and fast.
Again, they stop before it gets any further than lips pressing together and hands holding each other close.
"My place next time," Bob says.
Greta kisses him at the door. Kisses Spencer and says, "I'll comm you about helping me with dessert." She waits until they're out of sight to close the door.
*
Greta comms Spencer twenty minutes before he's supposed to show up at her place. "I'm shorthanded." She suspects she sounds as frazzled as she feels. "Can you come to the shop instead?"
Fifteen minutes later, Spencer walks through the door of her shop, looking every bit as cool and casual as the first time. He's managed to time it perfectly so the shop is, for only the third time all day, empty of anyone else. Greta half suspects him of checking with Bob, his timing is so good.
Spencer comes around the counter and kisses her, his hands stroking over and through her hair.
Greta clings to him for a minute, absolutely grateful to have someone to lean on, if only for a moment. "Thank you."
Spencer presses a kiss to her forehead. "Any time." He steps back. "What are we making? More chocolate?"
"No." Greta gets him an apron from the coat-turned-apron rack. "Bob likes lemon. Do you know how to zest one?"
Spencer ties the apron behind him. "Not a clue."
"First lesson, then." Greta hands him a lemon and a zester. "Just scrape that along the lemon. You don't want to get too deep into the peel."
She watches him do the first one. He has a deft touch, and the way his forehead wrinkles in concentration makes her want to kiss it to smooth it out.
"That's good. When you're done with that one, you can do the rest of these." She gestures at the other lemons on the counter. "We're not going to use it all, but I'll use it eventually, and we'll want to juice all of them."
"What are we making?" Spencer finishes the first lemon and moves on to the second.
"Lemon squares." Greta measures out butter, flour, and sugar into the bowl of one of the mixers. "They're easy enough, and Bob loves them." She turns on the mixer and smiles across at Spencer. "You'll like them, I promise."
"I'm sure of that." Spencer smiles back at her. "I've liked all of your sweets so far."
It's almost funny, how he manages to say it in a way that's both a gentle compliment and a come-on. Greta leaves the mixer running and leans over the corner of the counter to kiss him. She only stops when the door opens and the chime goes. She gauges both the customers - nanny, she thinks, and a couple of Upper Level kids - and the dough before turning off the mixer for the duration.
The nanny says, "One thing each," and Greta crouches down next to the kids and the case to answer questions and help them choose. When she glances up, the nanny isn't paying any attention to them.
Greta has to step between her and the view into the back to get her attention enough to ring her up.
"New employee?" the nanny asks, tilting her head to look around Greta even as she hands over a credit chip.
Greta glances over her shoulder at Spencer patiently scraping the zester over a lemon. "No."
"Sweetheart," Spencer says a moment later, his voice gone just a little false, "these are done. What next?"
Greta doesn't even have to fake her smile. "Just a minute, honey." She keeps smiling as the nanny makes eyes at Spencer on her way out. Then she collapses into giggles.
Spencer tips her chin up when she goes to him, and kisses her smile until her giggles break them apart.
"Here." Greta hands him the juicer and a knife. "Do all of those. I'm going to get the crust ready." She has her hands in it, pushing it down into the pan, when the chime sounds again. "I'll be right there," she calls, but before she can do more than take her hands out of the crust, Spencer sets the lemons down and wipes his hands on a towel.
He squeezes her hip as he passes her. "What can I get you?"
The customers are a trio of Upper Level girls, young teenagers Greta's seen in the shop often enough that they're familiar to her. The girls' eyes widen, and all three of them hang back, two of them turning to giggle into each other's shoulders.
Spencer takes it all in stride, waiting for them to calm down a little before telling them, "I don't know if you've been in here before, but Greta's cupcakes are the best, even better than anything you can get planetside," and coaxing them all into letting him take their orders and their credits. He slips a signed napkin into each of their bags.
"If the entertainer gig doesn't work out for you, you have a promising career in customer service," Greta says.
Spencer laughs. "Brendon used to work at this planetside smoothie place when we were younger." He shrugs one shoulder. "Ryan and I spent a lot of time hanging around and getting in the way. I can swipe a credit chip with the best of them." He puts his arms around Greta and tucks his face into her neck. "What do you want me to do next?"
Greta walks him through making the filling while the crust bakes. They take turns serving the customers, Greta taking the adults who know her, and Spencer getting even the most sullen of teenagers to smile when he swipes their credit chips. He takes the next nanny with children, and crouches down to talk to the four-year-old about the various merits of chocolate versus raspberry frosting. Greta makes a note of the time so she can tell Bob when he can skip to on the footage from the cams. She would comm him now, but she set the precedent of dessert being a surprise, and now she's stuck with it.
Greta has other things to do while they wait for the crust to be ready for the filling, and later, while the whole thing cooks. She and Spencer talk while she does them, when there aren't customers demanding their attention - Greta takes two custom cake orders; Spencer sells two dozen miniature chocolate bars to a woman who needs a gift for a first date - and it's nice, getting to know Spencer. He flirts sweetly and continuously, loves Brendon to death, and talks fondly about his family.
He stays until the bars have cooled enough to dust powdered sugar over them, and helps her arrange them into a box.
"I know you're better at it," he says, "but I want to help with everything."
Greta can't resist him, and she stretches up to kiss him until the chime goes again.
"Go home," she says after that. "I'm going to close up in a bit and clean up so I'm date appropriate. You can pick me up at home."
"You're always lovely," Spencer says, seeming to mean every word of it. He kisses her before he goes, and again when he comes to her door later.
Greta feels better for a shower and a change of clothes, and she takes Spencer's arm easily, lets him take the bakery box while she leads him to Bob's place. He lives Mid Level, in a place that doesn't even begin to touch the space or style of either Greta's or Spencer's. He's made it his own, though, comfortable and homey.
He hugs Greta the moment he lets them in, and she hugs back gratefully, burying her face in his chest. Spencer was wonderful for cheering her up when she was stressed about baking, but for comfort at the end of a long day, there's nothing like Bob. He kisses her carefully, and Spencer less so, and takes Spencer on a tour that ends in the spare bedroom where Bob keeps his drum kit.
Spencer lights up. "Play something for me."
Bob shakes his head. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Come on. I want to hear you." Spencer takes Bob's hand between both of his. He's completely earnest about it.
"One song," Greta says, ignoring Bob's glare. "I'll sing with you."
So Bob pounds out a beat, Greta provides the melody, and their audience of one whistles, cheers, and tries to kiss both of them at once when they're done.
Bob drags them both to the kitchen and makes them carry things to the table, all three of them laughing and touching each other at every chance. Dinner is just as light, and it wipes away the last lingering bits of Greta's day.
They put everything away, Greta helping because she's been in Bob's kitchen before and Spencer watching, no doubt so he can help next time. Greta takes the bakery box and a stack of napkins from the kitchen and makes them all sit on the floor in the living room.
"Trust me," she says. "You don't want this stuff on your couch." She sits along one long side of the coffee table, Bob next to her and Spencer on her other side, along the short side of the table.
Greta cut the lemon bars smaller than she would for the shop, so they're easier to hold and eat without getting filling everywhere. Skin is fine - she's counting on filling and sugar getting all over that - but clothes are something else.
She picks one of the bars up and holds it out to Bob.
"Lemon bars." Bob's smile is both pleased and a little surprised. Someday Greta hopes to get him over the surprise, to a place where he sees her doing nice things for him as normal. That smile is still curving his lips when he bites into it.
Greta feeds the other half to Spencer, but lets Bob lick the filling and sugar off her fingers. When she turns to the table again, Spencer has one of the bars waiting for her. They did a good job on them. They're just the right combination of sweet and tart, the crust just enough to hold them together without taking over.
Spencer takes the other half, but tilts it first, pressing his fingers into it, so a bit of filling and sugar lands on Greta's skin, over her collarbone where her shirt leaves it bare.
"Oops," Spencer says, patently unapologetic. "Someone should clean that up." He looks at Bob, and Greta lets them negotiate it between themselves. In the end, it's Spencer who bends down to lick across her chest. It makes Greta's breath come faster, and Spencer pulls away only for his eyes to slide down to her breasts, which are actually heaving. It's ridiculous, but also so much fun that she laughs a little breathlessly and sees the same joy in Spencer's eyes when he drags them back up her body to her face.
Greta takes the next bar, doesn't even pretend to eat it, and swipes through the filling to paint it into the hollow of Spencer's neck. Then she leans back, knowing Bob can't be far behind her, has to be leaning over to watch them, and tilts her head up to him. "We made them for you. You should really have more of a taste."
Bob's lips brush hers before he leans across her, his body heavy where it's leaning on her, to lick his way over Spencer's skin.
Greta lets herself melt against his chest when he sits back. He swipes his fingers through the same bar she did, and she takes his hand to suck his fingers into her mouth before he can do anything more with it. Bob nuzzles her neck, and Spencer watches them both avidly, and it's the best third date Greta's ever been on.
*
They've been dating a while, enough weeks that they're comfortable with each other, that Greta knows they're not testing each other out anymore so much as practicing what it's like to be together, when Spencer invites Bob and Greta to come with him on a trip planetside.
"I'm thinking about selling my house down there," he says when he asks. "I'm spending most of my time up here, and Brendon and I are talking about going in on a smaller place we can just share when we're down there. But it's a great house, and I want you to see it." He takes both their hands. "And I want you to see what my life is like planetside." He looks down, at their hands instead of meeting their eyes. "There's a risk to it. Brendon and I get left alone up here, especially on the Upper Level, but things are different planetside. There are a lot more people watching us."
Greta meets Bob's eyes over his head, and they don't need to speak to know what they're both thinking about it. Bob's worried about security but willing, and Greta doesn't care what other people say anyway.
"Of course we'd like to go," Greta says for them. "We'd love to see what the great Spencer Smith is like when he's at home on the planet."
Spencer laughs, just as she meant him to, and kisses both of them, and they get distracted for a while before they get back to making plans.
True to his word, Spencer's planetside house is a great house. It's huge, easily twice the size of his place on the station. Spencer gives them a tour and shows them each to one of the guest rooms. The one he puts Greta in is a lovely room, but she doesn't plan to spend much time there.
They go out for dinner with Brendon and Sarah, to somewhere comfortable and less trendy than Greta would have guessed, even having known them for a while now. The five of them eat and laugh and drink, good planetside wine and plenty of fresh produce for Greta.
Greta's still giggly when they get back to Spencer's, smiling at both him and Bob in turn, and looping her arm through Spencer's, pinching Bob's ass, until Spencer makes her let go so he can open the door and Bob picks her up so she has to put her arms around his neck to keep from falling and can't reach his ass. She wraps her legs around him anyway, so her heels dig into it.
"No," Greta says when Bob starts to carry her to her room. "Spencer's." Bob stops, and she risks leaning back enough to meet his eyes, trusting that he won't drop her. They stare at each other for a long time while Spencer waits next to them. Greta's ready, and she's pretty sure Spencer will go along whenever they want to. It's only Bob she has to convince.
"Spencer's," she says, looking Bob in the eye the whole time. "Please."
Bob looks back at her, taking it every bit as seriously as she is, and she knows he's thought it through and means it when he nods.
Greta turns her head to Spencer. "Okay?"
"Yes." Spencer puts one hand on her back and the other on Bob's neck. He kisses Bob first, the two of them so close to her that Greta can see where their mouths connect, part, connect again. He kisses Greta next, and she has to remember not to let go of Bob so she doesn't fall because she wants to be touching Spencer.
When Spencer stops kissing her, Bob changes direction, and the three of them go to Spencer's room. He has the biggest bed. Besides, it's his house, and Greta isn't above making sure she and Bob leave their mark on the center of it.
Bob doesn't put her down when they get there, but he does hitch her up a little so he can kiss her.
Greta smiles into the kiss, and keeps smiling when Bob does put her down after it. She almost can't believe they're here, at this point. She knows, they all have to know, that it's not just about sex now. It's about them. They're committed, the three of them, to each other.
Greta laughs out loud with sheer joy, and it brings out an answering smile from Spencer. He comes forward to kiss her, one hand in her hair and the other pulling Bob close.
"Let's get you undressed," Spencer murmurs in her ear, and he starts working on the buttons down the front her dress.
"You too." Greta tries to get at the buttons on his shirt, but he pushes her hands away.
"You're getting in my way."
Greta sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes, which only serves to make Spencer laugh, so she turns her best appealing gaze on Bob. He's much more biddable, and Spencer can't - and doesn't - object to him undoing buttons too until Spencer's shirt is hanging open over his chest. Spencer pushes her dress off her shoulders and turns her toward Bob.
"Bob's behind."
Greta nods and watches Bob's gaze skitter from her breasts to her hips to her calves. "You should take care of that." Greta wants to get her hands on Bob, on all of him, but the look on his face is mostly wonder, and she doesn't want to do anything to make him think he has to look anywhere else. He can have this, he can have her and Spencer, and he should know that. "You should know that," she says out loud because she's still a little drunk and it seems like a good idea.
Bob drags his eyes up to her face, a quirk of his eyebrows asking her what she's talking about.
"We're yours." By the time Greta takes the half-step to reach Bob, Spencer has gotten his shirt off and she fetches up against the bare breadth of his chest.
Bob gathers her into him, all that skin under her hands. Greta stands up on her toes to kiss him, and then doesn't have to because Bob picks her up again. He lays her out on Spencer's bed and leans over her so they can keep kissing.
Greta flails one hand out, and Spencer catches it. Greta makes a pleased noise into Bob's mouth, and a moment later, Spencer joins them, shirt off and stretched out alongside Greta.
"We're yours," Spencer says, and Bob kisses him without letting go of Greta.
"I'm yours," Bob says, and it's even better than him claiming them as his.
Greta smiles at him, and reaches for both of them. All the things that never happened when it was just the two of them work with Spencer making them into a triad.