A/N: Eid Mubarak :)
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When Rome unlocks the door to their house, it would not be wrong to say that he waits for his husband's rough voice coming from the living room or their bedroom, and it always comes. Pick usually got home earlier than Rome, he had changed clinics and was working in one that had flexible hours. His shifts were usually early in the morning or late at night, so he was always there to greet Rome at the end of his tiring day. After a sudden visit to a nearby hospital when Pick had fainted the second he came home and fallen down the stairs, - the doctor had said it was a cause of exhaustion and overworking - Rome decided to talk to help Pick find a better clinic because clearly his husband had been suffering and there was nothing he could do about it. So Rome called up some of his old batch mates and helped in the job hunt.
Walking into the bathroom with a set of spare trousers in hand Rome pondered as to why he hadn't seen his husband yet. Did he go out? But they already had all the groceries? Pick didn't even tell Rome that he had a shift, which was unusual but still a possibility. Before he had realized, Rome's fingertips had already pruned. He let out a sigh and turned off the knob of the shower head. Rome's head jerked as he heard a loud screech. A screech that sounded eerily similar to Pick.
Rome grabbed his trousers, hurriedly shoved his feet into the damn pants and slipped on the wet tiled floor. Thank his reflexes, he managed to cling on to the towel bar. He brushed off his grazed hands on his pants and made his way out of their bedroom. He ran down the stairs, towel falling off from his shoulders and falling on the stairs and water droplets dripping rapidly from his wet hair. The scream had come from their kitchen. He ran.
Rome underestimated his speed, as he couldn't manage to come to a stop and unfortunately hit the wall next to the kitchen entrance. He fell head first and the loud thump caused his husband to come out of the kitchen, his face streaked with flour, hands coated with something that looked like wet dough.
"Fuck. Rome! What the fuck? Oh shit. Um, wait." Pick gasped out. He quickly retreated to the kitchen counter and scrubbed a rag on his hands to somehow get the dough out of his hands. It worked, barely. He ran to help Rome up who was now rubbing his nearly swollen forehead. He had stubbed a toe too, great. Could he be any clumsier? Pick helped him up and made him sit on the kitchen counter. Pick got out some ice from the freezer and put them on a dry cloth and bundled it up, muttering low profanities as some of the ice touched his right hand, Rome noticed.
"Why did you scream P'Pick?! Did something happen?" he enquired.
Pick at least had the decency to look sheepish," Oh um, I actually just burnt my hand a bit. Sorry for worrying you babe. When did you come home? I didn't hear you?"
"I came back like half an hour ago. What are you doing?"
Rome witnessed Pick blush at least 20 different shades of red and pink. "I was actually trying out something...."
Rome just noticed the state of the kitchen. He had been so worried that he didn't see the mess. The was flour all over the counter, egg shells in the trash and multiple bowls in the sink. His eyes darted to the oven, its timer was ticking.
"Did....did you bake...?"
Pick cleared his throat, licked his lips and went closer to Rome, makeshift ice pack in hand. He slowly lifted his hand and applied the pack to Rome's forehead, Rome slightly flinched at the cold.
"I tried to, umm, make some of those cupcakes you've been wanting to eat. Since we hadn't had time to go out to that cafe, I figured I'd try making some."
"Is that why you burnt your hand? While baking? For me?"
Pick just gave a shy nod in return.
Rome grinned so wide, Pick was afraid his face would break, "I love you so much."
"I know shorty."
"Oh so now I'm shorty? What happened to babe?"
"Shut up."
Rome knew Pick used somewhat harsh (not so harsh) words to deflect his emotions sometimes. In this case, his shyness. He decided to let him off this once, seeing how he went out of his way to bake for him.
Rome took the ice pack from Pick's hands and got off the counter, surveying the mess of that was their kitchen. Just then the timer of the oven set off and Pick took a pair of mittens, not needing another burn, and opened its door. Rome took huge whiffs of the aroma coming from the oven. He his excitement was evident as Pick was sure Rome would vibrate out of his skin.
The second Pick pulled out the tray, revealing a few fresh brown chocolate cupcakes, Rome was already ready with a fork.
Pick chuckled," Slow down there mister, I need to put on the icing and sprinkles first."
Rome nodded vigorously. He had to wait for a few minutes till they cooled down ( "The icing will melt shorty, have some patience" ).
After they finally cooled down and Pick had added the icing and "made it pretty".
Rome stabbed the poor cupcake with his fork and ate the half with his hands, smearing the frosting all over his hands and some on his face. He chewed and swallow. And then he turned to Pick, who had been watching with a hopeful expression. Unfortunately Rome's face was blank.
In a split second, Rome had Pick pressed between his hands and the counter, kissing him. Pick could taste the frosting on his lips. Rome pulled back and smiled the same smile Pick had fallen in love with.
"It's amazing P'Pic- How the hell did you manage to get the batter on the ceiling?!"
