#like I had to do a double take the first time I heard Cole’s bc he sounds so much like KWP in singing

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

I will forever be thinking about JPC’s “Bob didn’t need to DIEEEE”

[colesterstrudel]

Everything But the Kitchen Sink

Michael Cole/Reader: You own a bakery with your best friend, who can’t come in on one of your busiest days. Luckily, you have a customer who is more than willing to help you in your time of need. Smut but not all the way bc I kinda forgot how to write smut so.......

ANYWAYS HERE IT IS, FOLKS. THE OFT-MENTIONED MICHAEL COLE FIC. IT’S HERE. IT’S FINISHED. LIFE IS SWELL.

Tagging @sporadic-fics @helplessly-nonstop @wrestlingfae @renegademustelid @cookiethewriter @concussed-to-pieces @toxiicpop @thirstiswet @moxleysbaby @itsreigns @shadow-of-wonder @ilovesamizayn @merchfreak @paintedneverland

You knew owning a bakery would be hard work, had prepared yourself for that when you finally got the money to open the place with your best friend. The hard work didn’t scare you off, but made you more determined to make your bakery the most successful in the city. Two years in and you were well on your way to meeting that goal, new orders coming in every day, fairly steady visitors. It was all coming together. 

Until today, when your best friend called to tell you she couldn’t come in. The seasons were changing and she was stuck in bed, allergies waging war on her immune system. 

It wasn’t a problem, of course, you couldn’t have her at work when she was sneezing every three seconds. But today was a big day, with three large orders needing to be finished and picked up. You could do it, you knew you could, but having her here would definitely be a big help. 

On the bright side, you didn’t have too many visitors in the morning, meaning you got to spend most of your time in the kitchen. You were in the middle of making ten huge trays of brownies, five of them in the oven as you mixed the sixth when the bell above the door jingled. 

With a sigh, leaving the giant bowl of brownie batter behind, you headed for the front of the bakery. 

“How can I help you?” You asked, mind still focused on the mountain of work you had waiting for you in your kitchen. The customer was at the far end of the pastry cases nearest the door, barely even looking up as you walked to the register. 

“I’m just looking, thanks,” he replied, finally looking up for a moment to shoot a smile your way. He was a little older, soft lines and wrinkles accentuating his smile with short salt and pepper hair. For a moment, you were struck by how attractive he was, but you shook it off, focusing instead on helping him to be in and out as fast as possible so you could go back to the work you had to do.

“Take your time, let me know if you need anything.” You smiled back at him as best you could, eyes finding the clock on the other wall. Time was slipping away and you still needed to finish the brownies for your second big order before moving on to the final touches on the cupcakes for the third order. Luckily, your first order had already been picked up that morning, but there was so much to do and so little time. 

Just as the customer was making his way to the register, ready to tell you his order, the oven timer went off. “I’m so sorry, give me just a moment,” you apologized before rushing back to the kitchen to take the brownies out of the oven. On your way back through the kitchen, a lingering glance on the bowl of brownie batter still to be completed, you ran into the counter and knocked over your cocoa powder as you fell to the floor. 

You were attempting to stand up and assess the damage when someone cleared their throat in the doorway in an attempt to get your attention. One glance told you the customer from just before had made his way back behind the counter to check on you. 

“Are you okay?” He held a hand out to help you up and you took it gratefully, finally standing up from the mess on the floor. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, shooting him a smile that hopefully didn’t look too pained. “If you give me just a second to clean this up, I’ll be right back out there to help you.”

“Do you, uh, need any help?” The glance he took around the kitchen told him all he needed to know. The huge racks of cupcakes still cooling in the corner, brownies scattered across every available bit of counter space. 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to help,” you flushed, wiping your hands on your apron. “It’s fine.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” The man seemed to make the decision for you, heading for the hooks by the oven and grabbing a spare apron to slip over his head. His fingers deftly tied the knot in the back before heading back over your way. “Now, what do you want me to start on?”

It only took you a moment to think about how absurd these circumstances were before you graciously accepted his help. “In that binder over there,” you began, pointing to a three inch purple binder across the counter, “is my double chocolate brownie recipe. We only need to mix up a few more batches and get them in the oven.”

He just nodded, moving to get the binder and flipping through it on the counter right next to you. It was silent, the two of you working on your own batches of brownie batter, dancing around each other in the kitchen with ease. It was nice, to finally not be too stressed about getting orders done since there was someone to help you again. And that meant the brownies got done quickly, allowing you two to move to frosting the racks of cupcakes that had been cooling since that morning. 

The customer-turned-bakery-assistant was a quick learner, picking up exactly how you liked the swirls of frosting to look on top of your cupcakes, sprinkles generously added afterward. 

Three hours later, all of the orders were complete, the brownies had already been picked up, and you were finally able to let out a relieved breath. 

“Thank you for the help,” you told the man you’d worked beside for hours as you walked towards the front of the bakery. “If there’s anything you want, it’s on the house. You didn’t have to spend all your time helping me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he assured you, smile wide on his face. “And don’t worry about it, I don’t need anything in return.”

“Are you sure? I made some Kitchen Sink cookies this morning that are really good, if I do say so myself.” You smiled back at him, tilting your head towards the pastry case that held the cookies in question. 

You sent him on his way with a dozen cookies and a smile, watching as he waved from the door. It wasn’t until you saw him drive away that you realized you never even got his name. And you weren’t sure you’d ever run into him again. 

————

“So you never even got his name?” Nattie asked after you regaled her with the story of the kind stranger from the day before. 

“No,” you groaned, resting your head on your arms with a dramatic sigh. “And I’ll probably never see him again so it’s not like it even matters.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Nattie shook her head, laughing. “Then why did you just spend an hour telling me about him?”

“I don’t like your tone,” you told her, glaring as you sat up. “It doesn’t matter. We have work to do, anyway.”

“Whatever you say, boss lady.” As Nattie walked towards the front, leaving you to pour in the kitchen alone, you heard her mutter under her breath. “He doesn’t matter but you spent all that time detailing his smile. Yeah right.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but closed it almost instantly, head sinking back down onto your arms. What have you gotten yourself into?

—————

Something about the delivery you needed to make two and a half weeks later wasn’t sitting well with you. It was pretty standard, all things considered. Six trays of brownies and six dozen Kitchen Sink cookies, a simple order. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the order was weird, that today was a weird day. 

You had already sent Nattie home for the day, closing the bakery a little earlier than usual so you could go straight home after delivering the only order you had for the day. She offered to make the delivery for you, allowing you to go home and relax, but you waved her off. At least this way you could use the drive as a way to clear your head, get some fresh air.

But first, you had to juggle all the boxes in your hands as you rang the doorbell, trying to keep them all straight as the door opened in front of you. 

“I have a delivery for Michael…” you trailed off, finally looking up after getting the boxes to settle in your hands. The man at the door was the customer from before, the one who helped you when you obviously desperately needed it. The one you couldn’t quite get out of your head. “Michael Cole,” you managed to finish, your thoughts going a mile a minute. 

The smile on his face was throwing you off, making it impossible to think. It was the same kind smile you saw so often all those weeks ago as you looked at each other across the kitchen in your bakery, the smile that was in your thoughts constantly since then. You had come to terms with the fact that you would probably never see it again, not in person, but here he was standing in front of you. 

And suddenly the order you had in your hands made sense. The dozens of kitchen sink cookies, the brownies. Everything you two had worked so hard to make together. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Michael said, smile never wavering. 

“It’s, um, good to see you, too,” you stuttered. And then, unable to stop yourself from being a mess,  “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” 

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you, either.” His reply came so easily, he seemed entirely unaffected. The complete opposite of you, mentally screaming right in front of him. “But a friend is having a party and I offered to bring some snacks and then I remembered your bakery…”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you thought of me - us. Glad you thought of the bakery.” The smile on his face seemed to only get wider as you struggled to recover from your inability to string appropriate words together. “Well here’s your order. Hope everything’s to your liking. You know where to find me, us, the bakery if you need anything again!” 

And then you were practically running to your car, slamming the door behind you before hitting your head against the steering wheel. You misjudged the distance, however, hitting right on the horn and jumping as it blared. Your eyes flutter immediately to Michael’s door, seeing him still standing there, laughing, and you put your car in gear quicker than you ever had before. You had to get out of there before you embarrassed yourself further, if that were even possible. 

——————

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter, or are you finally admitting to yourself that something’s up between you two?” Nattie asked, smug smile on her face as you explained to her what happened on your delivery the day before. 

“Shut up,” you grumbled, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the counter in front of you. “I made a complete fool of myself in front of him and now I know I’ll never see him again.”

“He probably thought it was cute that you were so flustered,” she offered, one eyebrow raised. “And you thought you’d never see him again before and things didn’t work out that way. I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“Yeah, long enough for him to tell me he thinks I’m weird or something.”

“I mean, he could say that. Or he could ask you out. Or maybe just order more of the Kitchen Sink cookies. You said he liked those, right?” Nattie was having a little too much fun at your expense, so you stood up to make your way back to the front of the bakery. 

“When you’re finished with your little comedy routine, feel free to come do your job,” you told her, ignoring how hard she was laughing as you walked away from her. 

Of course, you couldn’t quite get her words out of your mind. You may see him again, that much was true, he does know where to find you. But what would he say, that was your first concern. 

With a shake of your head, you cleared your mind, focusing back on the things you could control. You could control the bakery, the layout of the goods in the cases, interacting with customers. You could focus on that, instead of letting a man you barely know take up every moment of your thoughts. 

At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. 

————-

One week later and you were alone at the bakery again. This time, however, you weren’t so stressed about Nattie’s absence. For one, there weren’t any deliveries or huge orders that needed to be done. And with her gone, you wouldn’t have to deal with her knowing stares as you gazed at the pastry case the Kitchen Sink cookies were in. It was a win-win for you. 

Or it would be, if you could keep your mind off of Michael Cole. You hadn’t seen him since you delivered the cookies and brownies to his house, but you couldn’t stop hoping that you would see him again sometime soon. The more time passed, however, the surer you were that you wouldn’t see him ever again, that you had embarrassed yourself too much making that delivery and he would pretend he had never even met you.

Maybe you did miss Nattie being around, after all. At least she would distract you, keep your mind from turning to Michael every five minutes. 

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and saw there were only ten minutes left until closing and decided to start cleaning up. You hadn’t had any customers for a few hours, so you were sure you wouldn’t have any until closing. 

Of course, the bell above the door jingled as someone walked in just as you went to the back with a few trays of cookies to put up. “I’m so sorry, I was just cleaning up!” you called out to the customer in the front. “But if you’d like anything, I’d be more than happy to get it boxed up for you!” The customer service smile you had plastered on your face when you came back through the doorway to the front of the bakery faltered just slightly as you saw who was standing there. Michael was here, standing right near the door just as he did the first time he came in, soft smile on his face. 

“I can leave if you’re closing up. I don’t want to keep you from anything,” he offered, gesturing to the door.

“No!” The word was out before you could even think it through, practically yelling at him as you stepped forward to the break in the counter. “No, you don’t have to. Is there something I can get you?”

His eyes flitted briefly to the pastry cases, then focused right back on you as he moved further inside the bakery. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, grip on the counter next to you tightening as he moved closer. 

“I just came by to see you,” he explained, stepping in front of you. Now you were separated by just a few feet of space, one swinging knee-high door breaking up the counter. You had been closer to him before, both while making the delivery to his house and while he helped you bake all those weeks ago, but there was something about the distance between you today that felt as if you were closer to him than you had ever been and simultaneously further away than you wanted to be. 

“Well, here I am,” you laughed, nerves prickling even through the casualness of your words.

It was silent between the two of you and you felt as if time had stopped, or even just slowed down. His grey eyes were glued to yours and you opened your mouth to say something, to finally break the silence. Before you could get a word out, he was through the partition, pressing his lips to yours. The counter was digging into your back but you barely noticed as your fingers found their way to the fabric of his shirt, twisting to hold him closer so you could kiss him back.

And then you remembered where you were - in the middle of your empty, but still technically open, bakery. The lights were on full blast and anyone walking by could see you pressed into the counter, back arched obscenely into Michael. With that in mind, you reluctantly pulled away just slightly, breaking the contact and letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Michael began, pulling back, hands dropping from where they were resting on your waist. “Did I misread-”

“No, no,” you assured him, wincing at the huge wrinkles in the front of his shirt from where your fingers had twisted into the fabric. “But we’re in the middle of the bakery, the door is unlocked, anyone could see…”

His grey eyes widened as he looked around, as if only just now realizing that you two were in full view of anyone in the street. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about that. Should I just go?”

“Absolutely not,” you answered faster than you meant to, words sharp. “Just...Give me a second.” You brushed past him, headed straight for the front door to lock both locks and turn the sign to read ‘Closed.’ You hit the main light switch, watching as the front of the bakery went dark, the only lights the ones in the front windows, before walking back to where Michael still stood, eyes following your every move. Grabbing his hand as you passed him again, you pulled him along behind you to the kitchen in the back.

“So,” you began, smile wide as you released his hand and turned to look at him. “What brought you back here to see me? It can’t possibly be that first day you dropped in and saw me on the ground covered in cocoa powder.” You laughed at the memory, at how mortified you were when you saw him standing over you to help you up.

“I don’t know, I thought you were endearing.” His smile matched yours and he inched even closer, leaning against the counter next to you. “And I couldn’t get you out of my head when I left, but I was sure that you wouldn’t be interested in me, given the obvious age difference. I’m glad to see I was wrong about that.”

“Very wrong,” you agreed, cutting into his sentence.

“It took me a while to convince myself to come back, but I found myself driving over here before I was even sure of where I was going. And I’m glad I did.” He reached out, pulling you into him again. “Very glad I did.”

“Funnily enough, so am I.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him again, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt once more. The kiss was harsher, deeper than the one earlier and before you knew it, you were perched on the counter in front of Michael, hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt. His own hands were working their way under your shirt, inching it up your sides. He broke away long enough to pull your shirt over your head, shrugging his off his shoulders after you got it unbuttoned all the way. “You know,” you sighed, tilting your head to the side as he rained kisses down your neck. “I don’t usually do this.”

“What? Invite strapping older men over to your bakery to have your way with them?” he asked, laughing into your skin.

“Excuse me,” you laughed, breaking off into a moan as his hands moved the cup of your bra down, fingers pinching at a nipple. “I did not invite you, you just showed up.”

“I can leave at any moment,” he offered. His hands betrayed his words, however, reaching behind you to unhook your bra and pull it off your body.

“Not a chance. You’re stuck here now,” you warned, arching into him as he kissed down your neck again. You felt him smile against your skin again, biting lightly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before coaxing you to lie back on the counter.

“Noted,” was his only reply before he closed his mouth over a nipple, teeth just barely scraping against the tender flesh. The moan you let out was damn near other-worldly as you arched into him, fingers fumbling down towards the waistband of his pants. 

Your brain was foggy, too focused on enjoying the way Michael’s tongue moved against you, his hands gripping your hips harshly, and trying to get his belt undone that you never heard the back door open. 

“Hey, I saw the light on when I passed by and wanted to stop in and - oh, whoops.” Nattie’s voice rang out and you shrieked, trying to sit up and cover yourself at the same time as Michael fixed his belt.

“Nattie, what, um. What are you doing here?” you rushed out, pulling your shirt over your head haphazardly.

“It doesn’t matter, just pretend I was never here,” she told you, hiding her eyes behind her hand. “But you must be Michael. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know.” She held her free hand out to shake his and you groaned, head dropping to your chest as Michael let out a laugh. 

And to think that the night started out with such promise.