Lunch had gone well -- really well, in fact. Though he’d been on edge the entire time because it had happened so quickly and because he was giddy over the realisation that Rolf actually liked him back enough to meet him for lunch (and because he knew Emilia might be watching at any given moment), Terry left feeling like he was walking on air. He hadn’t been wrong to think there might be something in the air between them. He hadn’t known if Rolf felt it, too, but now he was sure that Rolf did.
That made the prospect of having Rolf over to his flat even more exhilarating -- and nerve-racking, if Terry were completely honest. He wanted to make a good impression.
He’d wanted to have his babka ready -- or at least baking -- by the time Rolf was on his way, but he had only gotten as far as the first rise of the dough. He’d been about to start spreading onto the rolled-out dough when Rolf told him he was there, so he paused to ring Rolf up to the flat.
“So you found the place okay,” Terry said when he opened the door. He stepped aside and waved Rolf in. The flat wasn’t much -- it was a studio, so it was cozy. He’d gotten lucky with the kitchen: even though there wasn’t a lot of counterspace, it came with an island, which helped immensely. (On the flip side, he didn’t have space for anything larger than a two-person dining table, which was fine by him.) A corner of his bed peeked out from behind a low bookshelf by a large window. “C’mon in, She’s sleeping on my bed right now if you want to risk waking her up.”
After having spent more than an hour on which slightly unwrinkled button down would most adequately make him look desirable, Rolf got ahold of himself. He liked Terry. Immensely. Terry liked him too. He needed to rest in that and just let himself enjoy the frenetic butterfly-beat of his heart against his ribcage. “Oh, hey.”
Thank Merlin he’d thought to bring a basket of goodies for the kitten and a bottle of his favorite Rioja to share. That way, when Terry opened the door, his hands weren’t virtually shaking. They were clinging to the glass and the wicker basket as he followed him inside. “This is cozy,” he remarked, and caught a glimpse of the kitten’s tail curled over the edge of the bed.
“I brought treats for the little cheese cat and … a treat for us, too.”
“Oh!” Terry’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning, and for a moment, he was speechless. “I, ah --” His cheeks flushed. He hadn’t expected Rolf to bring anything, and he definitely didn’t think that his messy apron counted as proper date attire. But, he reminded himself, he was making a treat for them, too, so it was nice that they were on the same page.
Terry cleared his throat. “I was going to say you didn’t have to, but,” he gestured towards the kitchen, where his counters were covered in bowls and dough, “I’m making us a treat, too. Does your treat go well with chocolate?”
“Um, wow.” Rolf’s eyes went wide when he saw the production in the kitchen. “ … well, you are a professional but I am both curious and concerned. What are you making?” He hadn’t exactly dropped the cat’s basket nor the wine yet. He simply continued to hold it as a bolster against said shaking hands.
“Rioja. So, perfect for chocolate. And catnip for feline cheese kitten.”
“Rioja and chocolate cinnamon orange babka. Sounds perfect. And I’m sure Brie will love the catnip. Bri? Or short for brioche? I can’t decide.” Terry flashed a grin at Rolf before walking over to his kitchen. Better to keep his hands busy, he thought, because he had no idea what he’d do with them otherwise.
Well -- he knew what he wanted to do.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a professional, though,” he added, wrinkling his nose. Even after winning the Great Wizard Bake Off, he had trouble seeing himself as any sort of professional -- he was still an amateur, in his eyes. “Just very lucky.”
“Brie, like the cheese. But I won’t bug her -- Brie, like the cheese -- until she’s had her beauty sleep,” he said playfully.
Rolf found a clear corner of the counter, dropped his basket, and slid over to a stool. He leaned forward and took a deep breath. “You are talented, though. I could never do that with bread. I just buy whatever is on the shelf at the store.”
Terry felt a blush rising to his cheeks again, and he looked down at his work, feeling bashful over being put on the spot. He knew he deserved the win -- he’d worked hard, and he’d done good work -- but he knew he had a long way to go.
“I could teach you,” he suggested when he looked up again. “In fact --” He waved Rolf over. “Come here. This is the easy part. I have to spread the filling and roll it up. You can help me.”
“ … would you? I mean, it would probably be a little more like me just doing what you say. But I’ll be honest, I’ve never been good at it.” Rolf assumed everything here was vegetarian. It sounded like it, anyway. Cinnamon, orange, and chocolate … and bread? Heaven. Thank Merlin he found himself a hot baker.
He took a step forward and leaned toward Terry, surveying the scene before them.
“So what’s first?”
“Well…” Terry handed Rolf a spatula. “This -” He picked up the bowl containing the filling, “gets spread out on the dough, right to the edge.” He was glad he’d gotten that far before Rolf arrived, because rolling dough out to the right thickness took a bit of precision work if he wanted the layers to be even. The filling could be more sloppy; that wouldn’t change much overall. “Think you can handle that?”
“Sure …” Rolf said, although he did not sound entirely sure. He pointed at the dough and then frowned at the filling, as if he couldn’t believe that it simply wasn’t spreading itself. He then pointed at the bowl and looked up to Terry with raised brows. “Um. How do I get the filling from the bowl to the dough?”
Terry’s own eyebrows lifted with a bemused expression. He couldn’t tell if Rolf was serious or joking, but he didn’t want to poke fun if Rolf really was serious, so he just reached out for Rolf’s hand to guide him. “Like this,” he said, bringing Rolf’s hand and the spatula to the bowl to scoop out some of the filling. “It’s okay if it’s not perfectly even. We’re going for taste, not perfection.” He guided Rolf’s hand back over the rolled-out dough and paused, not taking his hand away even though he was sure Rolf was able to keep up. “Sometimes I use my hands,” he admitted. “It’s fun, but messy.”
The moment Terry’s hand made it to Rolf, he warmed. Somewhere far above him, he could think about the close proximity. He could think about how much he felt comfortable in Terry’s presence. He could think about how much he wanted to kiss him. But, carefully, he followed Terry’s instructions and after several scoops of filling from the spatula he turned toward Terry and smiled crookedly.
“Am I doing ok?”
“You’re perfect.”
The reply was out of Terry’s mouth before he really had a chance to think about what he was saying, and once he did, he laughed, embarrassed. Though there was definitely truth in what he’d said, Terry didn’t want to come on too strong too fast.
He fell quiet so he could help Rolf get the rest of the filling out of the bowl and spread out across the dough. Once that was done, he looked up again. “This is the tricky part,” he said as he began rolling the dough up. He’d done it so many times now that it was almost instinctual, but he still had to pay attention to make sure it was even. Once that was done, he cut the log in half down the middle and began twisting the two pieces together, slowly so he could explain what he was doing. The loaf went into the prepared pan after that, towel draped on top. “And now we wait… two hours. Then we can bake it. So you’ll have to stick around for a while if you want a piece. I hope that’s okay.”
Rolf’s cheeks went scarlet immediately; he’d certainly been feeling less than perfect. He had a lot to live up to and a lot of eyes on him. But with Terry, he just focused on the feeling of warmth and the skill of the man baking. Baking for him.
“We can certainly find something to do,” Rolf said with a crooked grin, gesturing toward the bottle of rioja.
“We might forget to bake it if all we do is drink,” Terry joked. What he really wanted to do was kiss the grin off Rolf’s face, but he turned to pull two wine glasses out of a cabinet instead. All in good time, he told himself. They weren’t in any rush.
He paused and shook his head. What was he waiting for? He turned around quickly and looked at Rolf for a moment, wide-eyed. “There’s something I gotta do…” he began, and then he reached out, one hand on either side of Rolf’s face, and pressed his lips to Rolf’s lips like he’d been dreaming about since the day they met.
Rolf, who had been almost ready to respond, instead melted into Terry’s kiss. He wrapped his arms around his neck and, with enough gusto to prove that he too had been waiting for this, returned the kiss. He pulled back just slightly after a moment, lips lightly gracing Terry’s lips and nose before he smiled.
“You got there first,” he said breathlessly. “You beat me to it.”
“Glad I wasn’t the only one thinking about it,” Terry started, and then he shook his head again, grinning. It’d been so daft of him to hold back when the signals from Rolf had been clear all along. He brushed his knuckles across Rolf’s cheek, trying to wipe off a smudge of cinnamon-orange babka filling. “Made a little mess,” he explained as he leaned in for another kiss.
From the floor near their feet came a soft little mew, and the interruption made Terry laugh. “Look who’s jealous already.”
“I put it there on purpose,” he explained. “So you would kiss me again.”
The line made Rolf blush, even as his smile only grew. When the kitten announced her presence, he only paused to duck down and pick her up, holding it between them. The kitten leapt from Rolf to curl at the base of Terry’s shoulder. “We can share you …”
“Can you?” Terry asked, barely holding back a laugh. Once he was sure that Brie was steady on his shoulder, he reached out and rested his hands along Rolf’s waist, not wanting the other man to stray too far. He felt so much lighter now that their intentions were both clear. The weight of wondering whether or not Rolf felt the same was gone, replaced by giddy, stomach-churning excitement. “Is there enough of me to go around?”
“Well, you are a slip of a thing …” He leaned forward to rub his thumb against Brie’s nose. “But she knows me. She’ll get used to sharing with someone who brings her catnip treats. I am obviously not above a bribe.”
Brie stretched her neck to nudge Rolf’s hand in return. “She’ll like you better than me before long,” Terry commented with a warm smile. It reminded Terry of the first day they’d met, how comfortable Brie was right away, and how he could sense that there was something special about Rolf. He suspected Rolf had felt the same.
“So --” Terry cleared his throat and swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth for a second. “Maybe we could go out to dinner sometime?”
“Progressing from lunch, to dessert, to dinner. I like the way you think.” Rolf, grinning at the kitten and at Terry in the same instant, couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe the world held inspiration after all.
“As long as you let me buy.”
Terry leaned in for another quick kiss before answering. “I think that can be arranged. Maybe we’ll even throw breakfast in there one of these days.” Maybe that was forward, but he didn’t care. If Rolf kept looking at him with stars in eyes, it was worth the risk. “If you like breakfast, that is.”
“Look,” Rolf deadpanned. “If I didn’t like breakfast my immediate suggestion would be to ghost me. I love breakfast. I have a good recipe for a jackfruit omelete. I’m no baker, but I can do things with a griddle and eggs.”