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Convalescing isn’t necessarily how Goro hoped to spend his twenty-fifth birthday, but all things considered, he should be happy. His bottom surgery is healing well, and by his husband’s birthday in a little under two months, he’ll be able to use the thing giving him so much grief right now.
Said husband runs across the living room, bags crinkling as he goes. Akira stops to plant a sweet kiss on Goro’s lips and then carries on to the kitchen. “How are you feeling, my love?”
Goro grumbles, thumbing across the pages of a book he brought with him from the bedroom but hasn’t cracked open. “Counting down the days until I can walk as much as I want to. Amongst other things…”
Akira smirks, knowing just what his husband wants. “Soon. It’ll be soon. Just trust the processes… and your freak genetics to heal you faster than you should be. Besides, you’re braver than I for enduring all of this, and I know how much you like being above me,” he says with a wink.
Rolling his eyes, Goro doesn’t deign to respond. Instead, he watches Akira unpack the groceries. A bag of flour. Two types of sugar. A dozen eggs. A carton of half and half. A pint of strawberries. A box of freeze-dried strawberry powder. To cap it off, chocolate chips. Curiosity gets the better of Goro.
“What in the world are you doing?”
“Making your birthday cake.”
Goro sighs, “Akira… I told you that wasn’t necessary.”
“And I told you that I want to do this. You deserve something nice right now. I know you’ve been frustrated at how limited you are, so I’m going to make this for you in the hopes that it lifts your spirits. Brings a smile to your face. Anything to help you feel better. Besides, you know baking treats and cooking you food is my love language.” At that, Akira winks again. He’s clearly in a cheeky mood, so there will be no arguing with him.
Despite his desire to protest, Goro’s heart swells at the sentiment. It’s nice that Akira loves him so much — enough to spend several hours baking something for him. He supposes the least he can do is be grateful to have such an adoring husband.
“Fine, but if you need any help-”
“You are to stay put. I am fully capable of assembling a specialty birthday cake by myself.”
“What makes it so special?”
A mischievous grin crosses Akira’s face. “You’ll see once I’m finished.” He glances at the clock. “But if I don’t get started now, I won’t be finished before the end of the day.”
Goro waves a hand in his direction. “Get on with it then.” Settling into his seat, Goro finally opens his book. It’s an old mystery novel that he’s wanted to read forever. An easy Friday morning is the perfect time to start. He reads the first line and immediately jumps, head whipping up toward the kitchen.
Ignorant of his noise, Akira has his hand on the food processor, bopping his head to whatever internal melody is keeping him sane against the grating sound of the motor. He stops, pops open the lid, and examines the contents. A pout briefly decorates his face before he slaps the lid back on and resumes his grinding.
When the sound stops again, Goro clears his throat. “Are you quite finished?”
“Hmm?” Akira glances down at the heinously loud machine in his hands and then at Goro’s book. “Oh. Sorry.” He blitzes the contents three more times before sheepishly unplugging the machine. “Done now.”
Goro sighs and rolls his eyes. He supposes there are both perks and downfalls to having a husband who is creative in the kitchen. “Thank you.”
Immediately after finishing the next line, clanging rings out from the kitchen. Akira lets out a litany of expletives as he runs into Goro’s peripheral vision. Goro turns just in time to see him catching a run away metal mixing bowl.
“Aren’t you usually a little more elegant in the kitchen?”
Akira blushes furiously. “Usually you’re not sitting in the living room watching me!”
“I’m not watching you. I’m trying to read my book.”
Huffing petulantly, Akira grips his bowl and marches back to where he has all of his ingredients set up. “Sorry for making so much noise, but baking isn’t quiet.”
“Clearly,” Goro mutters under his breath.
He returns to his book, but finds himself staring at it, too distracted by the way Akira mumbles ingredients and measurements to himself. The syncopated rhythm of his whisk against the steel bowl. His insistent scraping as he fills cake tins. The soft shuffling of his feet as he moves across the kitchen to place his treats in the oven. His soft murmuring of minutes as he twists the timer into place and sets it on top of the counter.
Despite Goro’s intentions to read, his husband captivates him. With what could be considered simple, domestic monotony, Akira’s sounds and actions fill Goro’s heart to bursting. Gratitude creeps upon him and smothers him before he realizes it.
Akira cooks a custard. Whips frosting together. With every additional step, Goro realizes just how much work and love his husband is actually putting into this cake. As Akira sets his fresh bakes out to cool and places his prepared ingredients into the fridge, Goro nearly chokes with emotion and appreciation.
“Akira?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Are you finished for now?”
“I am.” Akira ambles over, sitting on the edge of the chair. He leans down, kissing Goro’s temple. “How’s your book?”
Goro avoids the fact that he hasn’t read even a single page. “I’ll probably finish it later. If you’re done, do you want to play cards?”
A soft, gentle smile crosses Akira’s face. His cheeks dimple with joy, and he nods. “I’d love that.”
For several hours, the two of them rotate through a variety of card games. Goro doesn’t think about the time. He doesn’t think about the book. He just thinks about the man in front of him, and how grateful he is to have someone as special as Akira. Someone so willing to go the extra mile not because he has to, but because he wants to. It’s a humbling thought.
Eventually, a timer in the kitchen rings, and Akira places his cards down. “We can resume when I’m finished with the cake, if you’d like.”
“Sure,” Goro says, noncommittally. They might find something else to do when Akira has more time to spare.
Akira jaunts back to the kitchen, and assesses his bakes. He seems happy with them, given his jovial expression. Pulling out a large cookie sheet, Akira begins placing the cakes down and cutting them up. From his seat, Goro can’t see much, but he does notice when Akira goes to the kitchen for the strawberry frosting and the egg custard that he assumes will go inside.
Assembly is slow. Akira approaches every step with methodical precision. Frosting seems to trip him up for a little bit, but eventually more satisfied sounds start filtering out of him. Goro finds the way he mutters to himself endearing. It makes him happy he didn’t pack up and head back to their bedroom just to read his book. Watching his husband is more than enough entertainment.
Finally, Akira breaks out the chocolate chips. He repeatedly reaches into the bag for a new supply, but if Goro couldn’t see the cakes, he certainly cannot see whatever detailing Akira is putting down with the chips. He decides to sit back and stop straining himself. Akira will show him the end result in due time.
After what feels like an eternity of waiting. Akira starts dumping dishes in the sink with a self-satisfied sigh.
“Feeling good about your work?”
The confirmation in Akira’s voice is plain. “I absolutely am. I hope you love this as much as I do.”
Goro can hear the sheet scrape away from the counter. For some reason, he finds himself suddenly nervous to see the masterpiece that Akira has been working on all day. He worries for a fleeting moment that he might not be worthy of so much effort.
Pushing those thoughts to the side, Goro braces himself as Akira carefully comes into the room, holding the cookie sheet with both hands.
“Well… What do you think?”
Goro blinks at the pinkish, nearly flesh-tone frosting. He gawks at the shape. A long cylindrical cake with a rounded end, accompanied by two bulbous cakes at the bottom. A dense smattering of chocolate chips coat the rounded cakes, and more refined chocolate chip placement decorates the bulk of the cake — namely toward the edge, to provide detail and make the dessert being presented to Goro undeniable. Even if he very much would like to deny what he is looking at.
Time drags on as Goro stares. Akira’s fingers flex against the edges of the tray, and he shifts his weight. He grows uncomfortable — likely unnerved by the silence.
“So…” He starts. “Your thoughts?”
“You… You made me a penis cake?” Goro gawks at the single candle placed horizontally at the tip of the cock. His eyes wander to the chocolate chip spelled letters. “H. B. D… Happy birth day?”
A liveliness immediately returns to Akira, and he grins — the expression can only be described as impish. “Yes, but also happy big dick.” Akira blushes and wiggles excitedly. “I thought it would be good for your first birthday with a fully post-op penis!”
Goro cannot believe what he’s seeing. “How long have you planned this?”
The grin widens. “Since you scheduled the surgery.”
Goro sighs, covers his eyes with his hands, and begins to laugh. His husband spent well over six hours of his day making and assembling a giant dick cake just to celebrate a once in a lifetime niche birthday. The absurdity of it all is beyond his imagining. Goro lifts his head and smiles — confused, amused, and feeling thoroughly loved.
“Well then, since you spent so much time on it, shall we eat?”