Work Text:
When an hour goes by and nothing's been dropped, burnt, or otherwise ruined, Hideaki decides it's safe to tug on Tsubasa's apron belt to request some attention.
"Now we should–what?"
Hideaki glances behind him and judges the counter clean enough, then leans back against it and pulls on Tsubasa's belt until he follows with a laugh.
"This isn't dinner you're interrupting, Takizawa; this is your wedding cake."
Hideaki ignores him and slides an arm around his waist, amused when Tsubasa drapes his arms around Hideaki's neck and continues objecting to the distraction almost cheerfully.
"This is just the practice one," Hideaki reminds him, once Tsubasa's stopped.
"'Just' nothing," Tsubasa says, narrowing his eyes. "There is no 'just' in this process, Takizawa."
"Am I forbidden," Hideaki begins, smiling, "from taking a break from the ritual to enjoy the company of the person I'm doing it all for?"
Tsubasa eyes him. "Yes."
Hideaki drops his head back in exasperation. "Tsubasaaa."
"Ritual first," Tsubasa tells him, pitiless. "After you wash your face."
While Tsubasa hasn't got a single stain on him, Hideaki is wearing cake batter, a few splashes of red wine, and a streak of something blue on his cheek that's probably ink from the calligraphy pen he was using earlier to sign their invitations.
"Were you chewing on the pen or something?" Tsubasa asks, thumbing the ink streak with a grin.
"Yeah. See how hungry I am?"
Tsubasa smiles and kisses him. "Deal with it," he advises. "You can eat when you've fulfilled your daily baking quota."
Hideaki ponders that and drops his hands into Tsubasa's back pockets. "What about sex?" he asks, tipping his head to one side innocuously.
"There's enough white liquid in the room," Tsubasa says with an attempt at a prim frown.
Hideaki gives him a grin, wide and toothy.
Tsubasa hardly even tries to hide his own, but still smacks Hideaki's arm just on principle.
When Hideaki kisses him this time, Tsubasa sighs and pinches his hip before cinching his arms around Hideaki's waist. It turns out there's a stripe of frosting in his hair that he becomes aware of only when Tsubasa pulls slowly away from his mouth to lick the side of the hand that he pushed through Hideaki's fringe.
"It's like baking with a child," Tsubasa chides him softly.
Hideaki kisses him again, laughing, and pulls back for a moment to whisper, "You wouldn't say that if I had a spoon covered with frosting in my hand."
Tsubasa's staring at his mouth, so it takes him a second to catch up with that, and by then, when he looks sharply up and says, "Oh n–" Hideaki's already flicking the spoon and spattering the side of Tsubasa's face with watery strawberry frosting.
Tsubasa's lips move into a devious smirk.
Holding back a hysterical bark of laughter, Hideaki ducks out of Tsubasa's arms and flees the kitchen, abandoning the spoon in the sink on his way. Tsubasa finishes licking his hand clean, washes both hands under the tap with soap, dries them on a dish towel, and then finally gives chase.
Ten minutes later, the timer sings out and Yamapi pauses the movie on his iPad to stand up from his barstool and take the first pan out of the oven. Somewhere in the house, he can hear laughter and rapid-fire protests, followed by louder laughter. Yamapi yawns and slides the second pan into the oven.
He returns to the table, unpauses his movie, and doesn't blink when there's a loud crash upstairs that shakes the walls.
He hesitates for a second, then Googles "what are a ring bearer's wedding responsibilities?"