#watts baking on a Gay Sex Monday?

[veryrealimagination]

Comfortember Day 13 - Baking

William barely side-eyed the door when he saw Llewellyn walk in. A tote hanging from his arm and the apron that he kept after his stay with the Mennonites, he strode across the room and set the tote down. “Is anyone currently using the kitchen?” he inquired, bouncing a little bit.

He raised an eyebrow. “No, but Julia nor Susannah have woken up yet and I only made breakfast for myself,” he said.

Tilting his head, he nodded, “I will make something for her if she inquires.”

William didn’t want to know what the young man was planning. “You will also clean up?” he questioned, and reminded. He nodded quickly. “Go ahead and bake.” Excited, he took off his jacket and hung it below Julia’s before putting on the apron and heading with his tote.

The sounds coming from the corner were louder than any of his work on inventions, and he wondered if he ever sounded like that while he had been tinkering in the old room. At least he was happy with this. Everything concerning Jack, Milo, his departure from ~safety~ Station House Four, and stories about his ‘adventures’ going between Canada and the United States, it made William check his hairline every day for white hairs.

The idea of gray hair went out the door after James Gillies almost stole him a second time.

After a half-hour, his tea was gone and he thought about getting another cup when a steaming pot appeared by his hand. Looking up, Llewellyn had brought out two more cups. And gotten something white in his hair. Perhaps flour, baking powder, or powdered sugar. He was quite fond of throwing the last one on cakes with much zealous motions. “I have to let the dough sit for ten minutes,” he informed, “And I could hear her moving about.”

Oh? He wasn’t that caught up in the science journals that he didn’t hear his wife getting up and moving about. Pouring the tea, he saw him disappear for the cream and sugar. Julia emerged just after that. “Good morning, William,” she said, sitting down at the table and accepting hers. It took a second to realize the third cup. “We have company?”

“An interloper, actually,” Llewellyn self mocked, setting down the last two things. He took the third cup and added his usual mix in. “I wanted to bake something.”

“I see,” she smiled, poking at the white in his hair. He moved out of the way, but she still batted some of it out. “Bread or pastry?”

He brightened. “Both, but the pastry is what I really came over to bake. One of the chefs I’ve met at the poetry readings found a very old recipe for something called honey cakes. I traded one of the bread recipes I picked up from an old man that needed help weeding his yard.” A large chunk of his tea was downed when his body craved liquid. “There is also one of those quick breads with rosemary and garlic. I mixed that quick and have it baking already.”

“Excellent,” Julia said, “I can poach some eggs to go with it. Have you had anything to eat?” Llewellyn looked back down at his cup, now already empty, then back up and shook his head. “Good. We can talk about the recent readings while William watches in amusement.”

“We’re also going to need another pot of tea if you’re talking,” he noticed, before turning to the young man, “Double brew the first leaves. I believe there’s a second round in them.”

“Yes, William,” he mumbled, taking the pot with him after emptying the last of the current liquid.