Masterpost: The Varied Stages of Something Unlikely
Masterpost: If It’s Not Perfect (Then It’s Not)
It’s exactly as difficult as Adam had expected it would be to bake a wedding cake with Chloe when she refuses to speak to him.
Oh, they’re managing, mostly. If he asks for something, she finds it for him in her parents’ enormous kitchen. She follows his directions with surgical precision, so they’ve already got one layer of orange vanilla cake cooling, another nearly done in the oven, and Adam’s working on the third layer out of five now. In fact, it’s fairly efficient having an assistant that doesn’t talk. Things get done. And without the frosting fight they’d had on Tuesday that had made his mother shriek that 32 was not too old for grounding. Which is a bonus.
But Adam still maintains that the reasoning for the silent treatment is childish. And besides that, just because Chloe isn’t speaking or hurling frosting doesn’t mean she isn’t conveying her displeasure in other ways that Adam is finding not only annoying, but in some cases painful. So after she slaps the glass bottle of orange extract into his hand with unnecessary force for the third time, he calls for détente.
Sort of. “If you would just apologize for your constant conspiring to put my brother and I in a room together without my permission or knowledge, I would happily forgive you,” he says, with what he thinks is a more than sufficient amount of magnanimity as he gently stirs the extract into a bowl of milk and egg whites. This statement is guaranteed to get under Chloe’s skin. That’s fine. His palm still stings from the bottle slap; she deserves a little needling.
The silence stretches on, broken only by the sound of the oven door opening and closing. A dinner plate clacks against the rim of a cake tin, thumps down onto a countertop, and the tin makes an almighty crashing clatter as it lands in the kitchen sink.
Adam sets the bowl of liquid ingredients aside, reaching for a larger bowl and the cake flour. And three…two…one…
really old kurtbastian doodle from december that i tried to fix, kurt looks like a pilot
I used to pretend I was Superman and Danny Zuko. I’m pretty much still doing the same thing.
If I fell into you, would it be close enough
If I finally let you in, would you show me what love is
If I had nothing to give (x)