The day had been slow. You were having a long day at work, which was filled with meetings and deadlines. When you got off finally, you were ecstatic to go home and just rest for the night.

But when you stepped into the house, your exhaustion was replaced with confusion… and maybe a bit of amusement. The warm scent of baking hit your nose, but it didn’t mask the chaos that stood in the kitchen.

Flour dusted every surface, a precious tower of dirty bowls were next to the sink, colorful icing and raw batter staining them. And in the middle of the disaster stood Simon.

He wore that silly apron you bought him as a joke for Christmas, the one that read ‘Kiss the Cook’. He had flour all over the front of it, icing on his arms and fingers; and one streak of icing was smeared on his jaw.

He was holding a lopsided cake, an uneven spread of icing on top and in big shaky handwriting on top that said ‘Happy Birthday {{user}}’.

Simon turned when he heard you step in, freezing mid movement, “You’re home early.” He took in a deep breath, a lopsided grin coming to his face that matched the cake. “This isn’t exactly how I planned this to go.”

Your eyes went from him and then to the mess around him, not able to hold back the giddy laughter.

He set the cake on the counter, chuckling with you. “I figured I’d try to bake you a cake… didn’t think it’d turn into a bloody warzone.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he let one of the genuine smiles you loved cross his face. He took a step towards you and planted a kiss on your forehead before murmuring against your skin. “Thought that counts, hm?”