For Gab

Word Count: 619


When Kingsley enters Grimmauld Place, he is greeted by black smoke and the shrieking of Walburga Black's portrait.

"Filth! Traitor!" she screams, obscured by the smoke. "Such a disgrace treating my home like this!"

"Quiet, you," Kingsley murmurs, drawing his wand and casting a quick spell.

The smoke fades, and he can breathe easily without his lungs aching and stinging with each inhale. Satisfied, Kingsley makes his way to the kitchen, leaning against the door frame. How Sirius hasn't died from smoke inhalation is beyond him.

"That looks dangerous," Kingsley says.

His boyfriend looks up from the lumps of charcoal-grey monstrosities that line the baking tray. "What does?"

"Leaving you to your own devices."

Sirius sighs, and he looks so pitiful that Kingsley's heart breaks. He knows that Sirius hates being trapped in this place, and it's clear that he is running out of ways to keep himself occupied. Sirius smiles a little less these days; he always looks like he's on the verge of crying.

The moment passes, and he offers Kingsley a grin. "I am a bit of a nightmare in the kitchen," he confirms. "This was a catastrophe."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're more talented than you give yourself credit for," Kingsley says, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Sirius brightens ever so slightly at that. "Really?"

"Of course. I don't think anyone could have burnt those as badly as you did. That's an accomplishment."

Sirius rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. He lets out a huff, but Kingsley knows it's all an act. That's one reason he loves Sirius so much. Kingsley spends his days surrounded by people who are so serious. Then there's Sirius. Sirius is softer, more relaxed, and being around him is like taking that first breath of fresh air after being inside a stuffy house all day. Things are just easy with him.

"Hilarious." Sirius snorts. "You should be a comedian. I'm sure you'll tell me that you were an award-winning pastry chef before you became an Auror, right?"

"No, but Auntie Siti insisted that I should learn to bake." Kingsley smiles fondly at the memory. "She would always say, 'Asim, you need to know how to bake a good cake. Easiest way to a woman's heart.'"

Sirius raises his brows. "I'm not a woman," he teases. "Is that why you never baked for me?"

"No. Molly usually beats me to it."

And it's true. Molly brings Sirius food every day, including a small dessert. While Kingsley knows that he can bake a good cake, he also knows he can't compete with Molly Weasley.

"Molly hasn't stopped by today," Sirius says sweetly, lower lip poking out in a pout.

"I suppose I could do something nice for you."

Kingsley sings softly as he smooths the homemade icing over the cake. It looks okay, but he knows it will never be the quality of cake that ends up in a bakery window. Still, he is satisfied.

"Cherry rum cake with vanilla icing," Kingsley says, grinning proudly. It has been some time since he's baked anything, and it feels nice.

"It's perfect." Sirius moves closer, pressing a soft kiss to Kingsley's cheek. "Just like you."

Kingsley chuckles and grabs a knife, cutting into the cake and setting the first slice on Sirius' plate. As he cuts himself a piece, he can't help but smile.

For so long, he's felt like something was missing. Maybe this is it. Maybe he'd needed that balance between work and home, that desire to have something softer and simpler once he stepped out of the Ministry.

And now he's found it in Sirius, and he is so lucky.