Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.
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Contrary to popular belief, Akashi had a sweet tooth. It wasn't a small, baby sweet tooth either – it was a large molar of a sweet tooth, manifesting itself in his preferences for sweets and elaborate pastries. As the son of an influential business tycoon, Akashi did not settle for cheap processed sugar snacks or basic, manufactured corn syrup in his treats; oh no, he favored the grand, expensive goods – Italian tiramisu with the finest mascarpone cheese and cocoa, French mille-feuille with only the flakiest layers, Austrian Sachertorte made with the best chocolate. The few times Akashi invited the Generation of Miracles to his house for high tea, it was a testimony to the quality and class of Akashi's sweet tooth. It was not a simple thing at all.
It was something of little consequence, admittedly, to Midorima through middle school and high school. With basketball and academics, he had little time to dwell much on elaborate baking and fine materials. Of course, once university came along, Midorima found himself consumed with the previously nonsensical combination of his very self and the kitchen, a mix that had before produced disastrous results.
The impetus for this change was the fact that he was now dating Akashi, his important significant other, and it was thus in his role and responsibility as boyfriend to do boyfriend-like things, as dictated by popular society.
"You don't have to," Akashi said, when Midorima first announced his intentions one morning in the studio apartment they shared 70-30 (it hurt Midorima's pride to split the rent so unevenly, but when he looked at the rent in question and his paycheck, it gave him heartburn instead). He hid a dry smile behind the porcelain coffee cup (a parting university gift set from his parents) as he sipped at coffee brewed from beans from Brazil. "It's not your strong suit, and I'd much rather you focused on your studies as that would make me much happier."
Those words tided Midorima for a few years, in which he did spend some of his paychecks treating Akashi to nice dinners in candlelit restaurants and feeling socially insecure accompanying the well-bred young man to high class business parties, but he did get many pleased kisses for his troubles and Akashi did stay with him despite his idiosyncrasies and stayed up with his late some nights to study and really, for all the times he was a good boyfriend to Akashi, Akashi was just as good a one back.
The words expired once Midorima entered medical school and he found it biting at conscience when they attended the opening of Murasakibara's patisserie and he and Akashi were invited back in the kitchen as VIP. He took his espresso pitch black and watched bitterly – no pun intended – as Akashi tried Murasakibara's creations with enraptured eyes, smiling at each taste of good cream and well-made crust.
"I'm going to make you something good," Midorima promised that night, lying awake and feeling very emotionally restless. Akashi only chuckled and pressed a kiss to his bare chest and told him not to lose sleep over it, it wasn't becoming of a future doctor.
They moved in a small house of their own, helped along by the Akashi family's vast amount of real estate it owned, a house with a kitchen a professional chef might have drooled over. Midorima rarely ventured into the kitchen, only visiting briefly for water or other raw materials, and as Akashi did not know how to cook much, the kitchen only saw much use when Murasakibara visited or Kuroko made a house call and brought Kagami along for dinner. Midorima visited the library and set foot for the first time in the cooking section, selecting pastry recipe books that did not confuse him upon first perusal. He was surprised there were so many utensils with names he did not recognize, even though their use was more or less the same as the standard spoon and knife. This was the life Murasakibara lived. Midorima was in awe.
There were so many recipes, all boasting different ingredients, that Midorima found it excessively difficult to decide which to pick, much less what to buy on his next grocery trip. Much to his surprise, when he was checking if they had such a thing as cream of tartar in their fridge, the kitchen was already stocked up to serve a small scale bakery. Akashi only smiled at him when Midorima poked his head in his study to inquire. He politely stayed out of Midorima's way without being asked, though Midorima knew Akashi was watching him amusedly from the stairwell when he wasn't looking.
The macaron did not appear to be a complex pastry to attempt. Akashi had flown over unannounced to visit Midorima when he studied abroad in France in university and had had tea with him with a plate of the simple cookies. They were daintily colored and had a diversity of tastes and while Midorima did not find them anything to really squeal about, Kise had cooed over the small box they'd brought back from France as a souvenir. If he remembered correctly, Akashi had rather liked them as well.
For the life of him, Midorima could not understand how such small, round cookies could suddenly enlarge in the oven and become hard, tasteless plates.
A simple cake seemed fairly easy enough. Perhaps he was overthinking it, making a complex pastry with exotic names. Surely if he failed at the macaron, all the others would be just as difficult, if not impossible to do at his current skill level. Everything looked according to plan as he poured the cake batter into the pan and it smelled decent as it baked. How could he have known it would bubble up and deflate the moment he took it out? The cake was nothing more than a rubbery loaf of flour at the very end. No amount of effort could salvage this cake.
Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way. Flour certainly had outstayed its welcome, in Midorima's opinion. Fancy sweets did not always include flour. Yet for some unknown reason, his crème brulee never set.
"I do not understand," Midorima said, after finally mustering up the courage to face Murasakibara without gritting his teeth the entire time. "They say cooking is an art, but baking is a science, and for such a science man like me…"
"Cooking is just not Mido-chin's forte," Murasakibara shrugged, simmering a raspberry sauce in low heat as Midorima sat stiffly in his kitchen and gazed jealously at the patissier. "But there are many things you can buy in the grocery store, like cupcake or cookie mix…"
"No," Midorima said stubbornly. It wouldn't do for a doctor to be so inflexible, but for an instance like this, he was supposed to be inflexible. "It must be something I made of my own hand. It's for Akashi. I cannot just half-ass it, as it were."
"Mido-chin is so pure," Murasakibara hummed. "If you were to make something, how about pavlova…it can easily be made into something elegant but it's also relatively simple…"
Akashi walked into the kitchen as Midorima was beating the egg whites. "Atsushi told me you'd paid him a visit today." Midorima knew better than to be upset. When it came to his word against Akashi's, it was clear whom Murasakibara would listen to, even now. "Do you want any help?"
"No," Midorima ground out, sloppily sprinkling the sugar into the bubbling egg. Akashi waltzed up to him anyway and Midorima slid the bowl out of the way as the man heaved himself up onto the counter to sit peacefully next to him as he worked. They only had a handheld mixer in the house and Midorima offered an offhand warning to watch out for the mixture accidentally splattering out of the bowl, but it was Akashi who wiped away a few splotches off Midorima's shirt in the process. Midorima shook the white meringue mix into a baking pan and slid it into the oven. He straightened and turned around to see Akashi beckon him closer to the counter.
Midorima happened to glance at the bedside clock as he brought his head back up from Akashi's neck, where he had been inscribing a dark red mark and practically slipped off the bed. "Sorry," he said quickly, pulling on a pair of underwear and hoping it was his, before stumbling out of the room. "The pavlova needs to come out of the oven."
He only dwelled fully on the consequences of leaving Akashi naked and waiting upstairs as he was stewing a simple berry sauce, the meringue cooling in the oven, when Akashi padded into the kitchen again, Midorima's shirt thrown over his shoulders and buttoned haphazardly at his waist. "I was going to be upset," he said, a somewhat sulky expression on his face. "But I'm also curious about how these will taste."
The meringue was slightly tasteless and the sauce was tart. Midorima felt a pang of disappointment. It was bad enough he was having Akashi eat something in the kitchen barefoot and wearing only a shirt, but it was also something that was subpar and not anything like the sophisticated sweets he liked. The thought made the stuff in his mouth taste bitter.
Naturally, Akashi noticed. "Yes, it isn't the same as the things I like," he agreed, knowing better than to say condescending compliments, "but you made it, didn't you?" He placed his plate down and gave Midorima a sweet, full kiss. "I am flattered that you did not just go out and buy something for me." He eased Midorima's plate from his hand. "Now, as we were saying before you interrupted with your baking…"
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Note: i hope you enjoy!