Happy birthday, Cep!!!
This day marks the day of the_cephalopod 's birth, something that must be celebrated. She's not only smart and pretty, she's also an amazing beta, writer and friend.
I hope you've had a great day, hon! I'm sorry this isn't more and/or better - I still have writer's block the size of Rodney's ego. But it's written with love!
Rating: No porn, but lots of cake! Unbeta'd like whoa.
It had to be the ugliest cake in the history of mankind. It was so lopsided it almost hung over the plate on one side, something the chocolate frosting wasn't enough to hide no matter how thick it was spread. John had tried to pretty it up a bit by adding sprinkles on top, but the can had almost been empty, with the result that half the cake was covered in tiny pink and purple sugar flakes and the other half was mournfully undecorated.
Yep, it was an extremely ugly cake. John cocked his head and glared at it where it sat on the counter, imitating the leaning tower of Pisa. He didn't even know if it tasted good. John's cooking skills included heating Ramen and microwaving frozen pizzas and that was pretty much it. But it was Rodney's birthday, the first since he and John had started this relationship thing, and John had wanted to do something special. Never mind that he didn't actually knew how to bake a cake, but a store-bought one had just seemed wrong somehow. Besides, he was broke and, well... It had felt like a good idea at the time.
Rodney was late, but John expected him to be. He was giving a lecture at Sac State and John knew from experience that the fifteen minute question time at the end of Rodney's lectures often evolved into one-hour discussions. He'd had the apartment to himself for the day with only Newton for company. Rodney's large gray cat had contributed to the preparations mostly by stepping in front of John's feet and rubbing up against his leg until John relented and gave him some tuna.
Glaring at the misshapen cake didn't seem to help much. It sat in the middle of the mess of spilled flour and crushed eggs on the counter (baking was not easy, no matter what the book had said), looking as ugly as ever, and John could swear it was mocking him with its very existence. He should have just gone out and bought a cake.
The sound of the key turning in the lock of the front door made John start and a glance at the clock told him that he'd been contemplating the result of his culinary endeavors for a little longer than he thought. Damn. Now he had an ugly cake and a messy kitchen, and Rodney was home already.
"Honey, I'm home!" came Rodney's sarcastic voice from the hallway. John rolled his eyes and sighed to himself. Home, and in that kind of mood. Trying to brush the flour from his jeans, John went to meet Rodney, hoping to be able to steer him away from the kitchen before he caught sight of the disaster in there.
Rodney was red and sweaty, his face looked like it was trying to decide whether to be annoyed or pleased, and his arms were full of packages, half of which he immediately shoved at John. "What a day!" he exclaimed. "People just kept giving me stuff! Look at this!" he motioned to a brown paper bag decorated with a bright yellow ribbon. "The English lit majors made me muffins. And here..." another package found its way into John's hands, "...apple pie! Mrs Williams from the physics department is apparently a big fan of mine. And you will not believe this - remember that little red-haired biology postgrad with the teeth? She named a plant after me!"
"Let me guess," John said, shifting his burden around to keep the baked goods safe from lethal squishing. "A cactus?"
Rodney's eyebrow's flew up. "How did you know that? Never mind, Laura just called and said she and Carson wants to..." he trailed off, looking over John's shoulder. "What did you do to the kitchen?"
"Nothing!" John took a quick step to the side, attempting to hide the view. It didn't seem to work. He looked around for somewhere to deposit Rodney's gifts and cards while mentally calculating how much it would cost to take Rodney out someplace nice and who he would have to bribe to get a reservation this late. He was low on funds already and the rent was due next week but it wouldn't be the first time he'd lived on instant noodles. Giving Rodney a birthday to remember was more important than food, right?
"Liar! What did you do in there, drop a bomb? I swear, I can't leave you alone for a..." Rodney muscled his way past John into the kitchen and then stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the sad excuse for a cake on the counter, his eyes the size of golf balls. "What... what's that?"
John sighed, followed Rodney into the kitchen and put the bags and packages down on the table. "It's a cake," he muttered. "Or it was supposed to be. I think it mutated or something." He avoided Rodney's sharp gaze and scratched his neck. "Look, why don't you grab a shower while I clean this up and then I'll take you out to dinner, okay?"
Rodney just stared at him, his mouth opening and closing before he finally found his words again. "You... you made me a cake?"
"I tried to." John suddenly found his own feet very interesting. "I'm not a very good cook, all right? Can we just forget this disaster now?"
But Rodney was already tearing through the cupboards for plates and forks and then quickly found a knife and began cutting into the monstrosity on the counter, smearing chocolate frosting everywhere. "A cake!" he exclaimed. "You made a cake for me!"
"Well, it is your birthday," John said, feeling more confused for every passing second. "And it's an ugly cake. It didn't look like that in the picture. I don't even know if it tastes good. You might be better off with one of these muffins." He grabbed the ribbon adorned bag and held it out, watching with terror as Rodney put a big piece of maldeformed cake on his plate and dug in.
"Don't want muffins," Rodney said around a mouthful. "I want your cake that you made for me."
The words were so garbled that John could barely make them out, but they still managed to put a big goofy grin on his face. "So, is it any good?" he asked, putting the bag of muffins down again and stepping closer to Rodney.
Rodney anwered by shoving a big forkful into John's mouth. It was rather dry and the frosting was so cloyingly sweet it made his tongue curl. John was one second from spitting the disgusting thing out in the sink when Rodney put the plate down and kissed him.
It turned out that a little taste of Rodney was just what the cake needed. to be perfect
-end-
Happy birthday!
I hope you've had a great day, hon! I'm sorry this isn't more and/or better - I still have writer's block the size of Rodney's ego. But it's written with love!
Rating: No porn, but lots of cake! Unbeta'd like whoa.
It had to be the ugliest cake in the history of mankind. It was so lopsided it almost hung over the plate on one side, something the chocolate frosting wasn't enough to hide no matter how thick it was spread. John had tried to pretty it up a bit by adding sprinkles on top, but the can had almost been empty, with the result that half the cake was covered in tiny pink and purple sugar flakes and the other half was mournfully undecorated.
Yep, it was an extremely ugly cake. John cocked his head and glared at it where it sat on the counter, imitating the leaning tower of Pisa. He didn't even know if it tasted good. John's cooking skills included heating Ramen and microwaving frozen pizzas and that was pretty much it. But it was Rodney's birthday, the first since he and John had started this relationship thing, and John had wanted to do something special. Never mind that he didn't actually knew how to bake a cake, but a store-bought one had just seemed wrong somehow. Besides, he was broke and, well... It had felt like a good idea at the time.
Rodney was late, but John expected him to be. He was giving a lecture at Sac State and John knew from experience that the fifteen minute question time at the end of Rodney's lectures often evolved into one-hour discussions. He'd had the apartment to himself for the day with only Newton for company. Rodney's large gray cat had contributed to the preparations mostly by stepping in front of John's feet and rubbing up against his leg until John relented and gave him some tuna.
Glaring at the misshapen cake didn't seem to help much. It sat in the middle of the mess of spilled flour and crushed eggs on the counter (baking was not easy, no matter what the book had said), looking as ugly as ever, and John could swear it was mocking him with its very existence. He should have just gone out and bought a cake.
The sound of the key turning in the lock of the front door made John start and a glance at the clock told him that he'd been contemplating the result of his culinary endeavors for a little longer than he thought. Damn. Now he had an ugly cake and a messy kitchen, and Rodney was home already.
"Honey, I'm home!" came Rodney's sarcastic voice from the hallway. John rolled his eyes and sighed to himself. Home, and in that kind of mood. Trying to brush the flour from his jeans, John went to meet Rodney, hoping to be able to steer him away from the kitchen before he caught sight of the disaster in there.
Rodney was red and sweaty, his face looked like it was trying to decide whether to be annoyed or pleased, and his arms were full of packages, half of which he immediately shoved at John. "What a day!" he exclaimed. "People just kept giving me stuff! Look at this!" he motioned to a brown paper bag decorated with a bright yellow ribbon. "The English lit majors made me muffins. And here..." another package found its way into John's hands, "...apple pie! Mrs Williams from the physics department is apparently a big fan of mine. And you will not believe this - remember that little red-haired biology postgrad with the teeth? She named a plant after me!"
"Let me guess," John said, shifting his burden around to keep the baked goods safe from lethal squishing. "A cactus?"
Rodney's eyebrow's flew up. "How did you know that? Never mind, Laura just called and said she and Carson wants to..." he trailed off, looking over John's shoulder. "What did you do to the kitchen?"
"Nothing!" John took a quick step to the side, attempting to hide the view. It didn't seem to work. He looked around for somewhere to deposit Rodney's gifts and cards while mentally calculating how much it would cost to take Rodney out someplace nice and who he would have to bribe to get a reservation this late. He was low on funds already and the rent was due next week but it wouldn't be the first time he'd lived on instant noodles. Giving Rodney a birthday to remember was more important than food, right?
"Liar! What did you do in there, drop a bomb? I swear, I can't leave you alone for a..." Rodney muscled his way past John into the kitchen and then stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the sad excuse for a cake on the counter, his eyes the size of golf balls. "What... what's that?"
John sighed, followed Rodney into the kitchen and put the bags and packages down on the table. "It's a cake," he muttered. "Or it was supposed to be. I think it mutated or something." He avoided Rodney's sharp gaze and scratched his neck. "Look, why don't you grab a shower while I clean this up and then I'll take you out to dinner, okay?"
Rodney just stared at him, his mouth opening and closing before he finally found his words again. "You... you made me a cake?"
"I tried to." John suddenly found his own feet very interesting. "I'm not a very good cook, all right? Can we just forget this disaster now?"
But Rodney was already tearing through the cupboards for plates and forks and then quickly found a knife and began cutting into the monstrosity on the counter, smearing chocolate frosting everywhere. "A cake!" he exclaimed. "You made a cake for me!"
"Well, it is your birthday," John said, feeling more confused for every passing second. "And it's an ugly cake. It didn't look like that in the picture. I don't even know if it tastes good. You might be better off with one of these muffins." He grabbed the ribbon adorned bag and held it out, watching with terror as Rodney put a big piece of maldeformed cake on his plate and dug in.
"Don't want muffins," Rodney said around a mouthful. "I want your cake that you made for me."
The words were so garbled that John could barely make them out, but they still managed to put a big goofy grin on his face. "So, is it any good?" he asked, putting the bag of muffins down again and stepping closer to Rodney.
Rodney anwered by shoving a big forkful into John's mouth. It was rather dry and the frosting was so cloyingly sweet it made his tongue curl. John was one second from spitting the disgusting thing out in the sink when Rodney put the plate down and kissed him.
It turned out that a little taste of Rodney was just what the cake needed. to be perfect
-end-
Happy birthday!