Here's another chapter for you guys! Please forgive me for the wait!

It had taken eleven days to get his bakery open again. After all of the repairs that had needed to be made, he'd begun to wonder if he'd ever serve another customer again. Clint had called him dramatic, but it had felt like a lifetime.

The windows had taken the longest to have fixed, but after their delivery everything had quickly fallen into place—all except for his mosaic, which he was still lamenting over. But, despite that, his new freezers were larger, able to hold much more than the former two, and Phil had even talked the electrician into adding a few more outlets, allowing him to utilize a previously unused corner for a decorating station.

Which is where he was currently having a meltdown.

"You want some help with that?" Clint asked for the hundredth time.

Phil sighed. Melinda's cake, per Skye's heart-felt request, was currently in progress, but he'd have been lying if he'd said it was going well.

"No, thank you."

Clint looked skeptical, but acquiesced with a nod and a smile before clocking out and heading home, leaving Phil alone within the bakery with just his misery to keep him company.

Phil had taken it upon himself to finish this one on his own, as his own personal project, and he'd been adamant that no one assist him, but he'd been at it for hours now. His first attempt hadn't had enough berries and so he'd scrapped it in favor of starting over. The second batch, he'd accidentally dropped the bottom-most tier and he'd watched helplessly as it crashed to the floor; he'd spent half an hour alone cleaning the crumbs out from under his work station. This, now, was his third attempt and he was praying that the old adage of 'third time's the charm' would hold up against his evident bad luck.

Phil stopped, grounding himself before beginning with his mental checklist. 'Let's see what we've got left.'

"Flour?" Check.

"Eggs?" He searched about the tabletop, pulling the few he had left out from under a carelessly thrown hand towel. Check.

"Yogurt?" He scratched his head, unsure of the last time he'd even seen one of the containers. They'd had a lot of catching up to do after the storm and, despite a shipment arriving only two days before, they were running low on a lot of key items.

He'd successfully managed to locate the vanilla bean, the salt, baking powder; he even had enough heavy cream for a few more attempts, but still no yogurt. It wasn't a necessary ingredient, but he'd found over the years that it curbed the sweetness to a thick, cloying frosting and he tended to use it in most of his fruit based cakes, as the fruit was often a source of a more natural sugary flavor. It was just a bonus that the frosting wound up creamier as well, in his opinion.

But this had to be perfect. And so, yogurt.

After making a quick trip down the street to a local grocery store he started again, covering the four circle pans with a layer of butter and flour. He expertly combined the dry ingredients before moving onto the wet, blending until the mixture was smooth and ready to bake. Sliding them all in the oven, he set the timer and moved on to the filling, grabbing lemons and raspberries as he went, adding sugar and water and just a dash of cornstarch until it reduced.

The filling finished just in time for him to pull out the cakes in all their golden-brown glory, but they'd need to cool before he could carve out the sizes he'd need and, so in the meantime, he busied himself with the frosting.

He was completely in his element as he started on the old recipe, going through the motions as his mind wandered.

"What if it's too sweet?" he asked himself, hand slowing mid-stir. 'What if Melinda hates it?'

Hate was a strong word and he scolded himself for being foolish as he added the vanilla bean to the bowl.

It was an absurd idea, really. Over the course of their friendship, Melinda had never once turned down any of his creations and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was in possession of a very healthy and frequently abused sweet-tooth. And he trusted Skye-trusted that her inside information about what Melinda enjoyed was sound, but the doubt still lingered.

'But what if she's disappointed?'

Not everyone enjoyed his food, he knew. As vast as the world was, it was ridiculous to believe that they would, but the idea of Melinda's disappointment weighed heavily on his shoulders. Melinda wouldn't lie to him, wouldn't hurt his feelings intentionally, but her emotions were often unreadable and just the slightest hint of her displeasure would send his own spiraling down into the ground for a crash landing.

And Skye. His poor Daisy.

Unquestionably, Melinda would put on a happy face for her daughter, but Skye would know. Skye was inquisitive and brilliant and there was no doubt in his mind that Skye would pick up on her mother's displeasure.

Briefly, he regretted agreeing to make this cake, having expected it to be a walk in the park, but then he recalled Skye's pleading face, her big doe eyes as she'd asked him to do so.

Phil sighed.

"There was no way I'd have said no. Not to that face," he admitted, grumbling."Oh, you're such a sucker. Maybe Clint is right."

It was unusual for him to be this nervous, but this was for Skye-for Melinda-and failure was simply unacceptable.

He worked well into the evening assembling Melinda's cake, the small two tiered masterpiece lacking only the decorations he'd promised before he called it a night. His stomach was growling for attention and he contemplated calling Audrey for a late dinner before thinking better of it. He'd told her earlier that he was working late on a client's order that had grown more difficult than they'd all anticipated and while it wasn't technically a lie, Audrey had been less than pleased any time he'd mentioned his neighbors. Phil doubted she'd be happy to learn that he'd spent the better part of a whole day fulfilling a special request for the both of them. Audrey would think it was odd if he didn't mention his work and he had no desire to lie, so he trudged home alone to end the long day with Cap as his only bed partner.

The next morning he let Clint and Natasha run the place as he retreated back into his corner and away from all of the noise and usual bustle.

He needed to concentrate.

Skye had slipped him a hastily scrawled note that she'd carefully tucked away within the folds of a Captain America pencil sketch, labeled Top Secret and addressed to Agent Coulson, that Maria was ordering take out for the group of them and that the cake wouldn't be needed until around dinner time.

According to Skye, it was always a low-key gathering with no more than the three of them total. She insisted that Phil would be welcome and, though his curiosity had only escalated, he maintained his decision to leave it as a family affair.

Phil simply hoped the cake would live up to Skye's expectations.

Shaking off his anxiety, he began on the small assortment made of gum paste, the only requirement being Daisy's daisy. She'd given him no other instructions for the rest of the sweet bouquet and for a moment, he floundered.

'What kind would she even like?'

After a moment, he shrugged. Over-thinking things wasn't getting him anywhere, so he let his fingers do the work as he began with a few daisies, the flower serving as his little chef's perfect representation.

It had been quite some time since he'd made something so delicate and his first attempt was not exactly uniform, but it didn't dampen his spirits. He made two others before he switched to a lily, a Stargazer for its color and beauty, which was much more difficult and intricate, but he managed well enough.

"You know," Clint mumbled, with a wide smile already in place. "We could still help you with that."

"No, I've got it," came Phil's distracted reply, his attention solely fixed on the piece of gum paste in front of him that was slowly beginning to resemble a blush colored rose. "Thanks, though."

He completely missed Clint's amused shake of the head, the movement only catching Natasha's attention.

"You think we should tell him?"

Natasha merely gave a roll of her eyes. "Nah, he'll figure it out eventually."

The cake was practically weightless in his hands as Phil ascended the steps towards their apartments, praying that he wouldn't trip on air or his own feet as he neared the door.

It was his understanding that Melinda, Skye, and Maria were already inside and, quickly, he ducked inside his own apartment to discard the cake box. Cap looked mildly offended at his swift departure, but with a quick promise that he'd return shortly, he stepped back out into the dimly lit hallway.

It was ridiculous to be this nervous. He was just delivering a cake. Albeit a very important cake.

'Snap out of it, Phil,' he thought, a chuckle escaping him at the childish laughter that filtered through the red door labeled 403.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly, listening as the music was turned down and the whispers began.

"Who is that?"

Melinda's voice was wary and he could picture the look she was giving Skye and Maria as the little girl giggled, refusing to give up the surprise even as he stood outside their door.

As it swung open, he blinked against the harsh light, but smiled at Skye as she grinned up at him and the cake in his arms. She ushered him in quickly before she beckoned him down to her level and he smirked as she appraised it, her brow knit together and her face one of complete and utter seriousness. He waited with bated breath as she paused, but he was relieved when her expression melted and her beautiful grin made itself known again.

"It's perfect!"

She dashed into his arms, nearly rocking him and the cake onto the floor as she said her thanks. His heart seized in panic, but he somehow managed to right them both and the cake before a disaster could occur.

"What's perfect?" Melinda asked, stepping out of the kitchen with Maria to see what the noise was all about.

"The cake, mommy!"

"What cake?" If Melinda was surprised at his appearance, she didn't show it, but she quickly realized what all of the fuss was about as she took in all his hard work. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips and he would have been blind to miss the curiosity swimming in her eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Mel."

"Thank you," she mumbled, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink and her voice thick with some unnamed emotion, but she shook it off, rolling her eyes at him playfully. "But you guys didn't have to get me a cake."

"Oh, I didn't," supplied Maria, glancing between them both with a smirk. "That's between your resident baker and your daughter."

"What is?" Melinda asked, her eyes lingering on him before it swept to the little girl in question to seek out an explanation. "Skye?"

Skye immediately grew sheepish under her mother's gaze. "You get me a cake on my birthday, so I thought you might want one—to make a wish. P-phil helped me pick it out. I tried to pay, but he said no and I don't know if it will be any good or if you're gonna like it, but-"

Phil could only watch as Melinda's confused expression turned soft as she looked down at her daughter. Passing off the cake to a surprised Maria, Melinda enveloped Skye in a tight hug, kissing her cheeks until the girl let out a series of high-pitched giggles.

He looked away as they spoke to each other, only to grow rigid at the unanticipated feeling of Melinda's arms around his neck. His face grew warm as he relaxed, somehow managing to return the hug despite his suddenly foggy mind. It wasn't a quick, friendly embrace like one might have expected from such a private person, but he didn't have long to ponder it as the scent of her shampoo, a scent he couldn't place, infiltrated his senses.

"Thank you," she whispered, her warm breath against his ear sending a shiver up his spine.

Phil couldn't recall making a reply, as distracted as he was, but Melinda didn't seem to need one and if he'd been shocked by her hug, then he was floored by the delightful feeling of her lips against the stubble on his cheek as she pulled away.

Neither of them had realized that they were alone, still standing in the doorway to her apartment until Maria and Skye stepped back into the room, the lone gold candle adorning the top of Melinda's cake blazing as they broke into a silly rendition of the birthday song, much to the birthday girl's embarrassment.

Phil joined in without much thought, the familiar words flowing unconsciously along with the others, but he was far more focused on the beautiful way the firelight danced across Melinda's beautiful features and of the way her laughter sent a rush of warmth to settle in his chest.

Somehow, they'd gotten him to stay. He'd protested at first, but Melinda had silenced him with a look and a slice of pizza she'd passed his way.

Turns out, all his fears were for nothing. Melinda ate two pieces of his cake before he'd even made it through one, even going so far as to lick the frosting off of her fingers, much to everyone's amusement.

And he'd been worried.

Maria regaled them with stories of the renowned prankster that was Melinda May, telling story after story from their college days until Skye was sleeping against his shoulder. Maria called it a night shortly after, wishing Melinda one last "Happy Birthday" as she went and, soon enough, it was just the three of them left.

"Could you grab her?" Melinda asked, voice low to avoid waking her daughter.

Phil nodded, picking up his tiny agent carefully. Skye shifted in his arms and he held his breath, but she merely buried her nose into his shoulder before grabbing a handful of his shirt tightly between her fingers as if she was afraid he might slip away. He followed Melinda quietly down the hall and into the pale yellow bedroom, waiting as she moved the covers back so that he could gently put her down.

He excused himself to the kitchen as Melinda tucked Skye in, busying himself with the task of cleaning up as he waited for Melinda's return.

"You don't have to do that, Phil."

He turned, smirking at her as she moved to his side. "I know, but you've still got another three hours before your birthday is over, so count this as another present."

She looked like she might argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she reached inside the cupboard, pausing she looked at him.

"Wine or scotch?"

Phil weighed his options quickly, choosing scotch for this particular celebration. He was surprised when she pulled out not one, but two tumblers to pour a few fingers for the both of them.

"A toast," he began, raising his glass and grinning as she raised a delicate eyebrow in question. "To you and another happy year. May it be filled with an abundance of laughter, a few good drinks, and-"

"Good company," she finished, smirking at him as she raised her glass to meet his.

He ducked his head at her words, flushing as he downed the amber liquid quickly. She wasted no time in doing the same, before filling their glasses again.

The alcohol served to relax them both and they found themselves rambling on about nothing as the night progressed.

He discovered that Melinda preferred scotch to wine, though both were sufficient when she was in the mood.

She hated coffee and, despite the disgusted look that crossed his face at her words, he delighted in her easy laughter and her argument that tea would always be the superior beverage.

Purple was her favorite color, he was surprised to learn, and he teased her for her love of the darker shades within the color wheel.

'Especially since that pink shirt she's wearing looks lovely against the blush on her face.'

He was minutely more prepared for the hug she gave him when he shuffled out hours later. It left him feeling giddy, for reasons he didn't quite understand, but was content to blame on the alcohol as he wandered back to his apartment.

Finally crawling into bed, Phil sighed as he relaxed back into the cushions.

"To be fair," he whispered, glancing at the orange tabby that was glowering at him in displeasure, "I didn't know it was a lie at the time. I thought I'd be right back."

Cap just blinked at him from the foot of the bed, obviously still put out, but Phil was far too happy to regret any part of his day. As Cap came closer, Phil scratched behind his ears as he whispered out his apologies.

"I'll make it up to you in the morning, I promise," he told the cat, smiling as Cap let out a satisfied purr.

His mind wandered as he reflected on the evening, back to Skye's excitement and Melinda's laughter. He allowed the memory to lull him to sleep, his last thought of their embrace they'd shared.

'Apples,' he decided. 'Her hair smells like apples.'

Had a bunch of trouble with the ending, but hopefully it's okay. Let me know with a review! I love those!