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Pete entered the apartment with a facial expression that wasn’t quite a smile but still implied that he was in a (really) good mood. He looked at Patrick, who stood in the hallway with an apron around his waist, cookie dough in his hair, their eyes meeting.
“Hey there!” Pete winked and smiled at Patrick as he approached him after carefully closing the door, knowing that the other man didn’t like it when he - every so often - only kicked it shut with his foot.
He pulled the smaller man into an embrace and kissed him on the forehead before planting another kiss on his husband’s mouth. “Baking again?” He sounded amused but also excited- Patrick’s baking experiments got better and better as time went by.
Patrick never said it aloud, but he enjoyed it no matter how much of a mess baking was most of the time. He loved Pete and if he could make him a joy with those small baked goods every once in a while, he enjoyed it even more.
“Yeah.” He smiled at Pete warmly. “Just took the cookies out of the oven. I only still have to clean up, so sorry for the mess you’ll find in there.” He pointed at the kitchen door, behind him on his left.
Pete chuckled and let go of Patrick’s back with one hand in order to straighten his messy, dough-sprinkled hair.
“Nah, it’s fine. I… I wouldn’t mind if it took you.. a little longer to tidy up in there.”
He winked at Patrick who, even after having been married to his favorite mess for three years by now and having known him since more than twelve, flushed, his cheeks turning a dark pink.
“It looks awful in there though…” Deep inside, he knew he had lost this round already.
“Well, I’d say that can wait…” Pete pulled Patrick a bit closer, which meant that Patrick had to look up to him to meet his gaze.
The man with the raspberry-blonde hair chuckled and grinned, biting his lip as he gave Pete a look that told him that, if he was honest, he fully agreed with him.
Placing his hands on Pete’s shoulders he started kissing him. Jeez, he loved this man.
Slowly but surely, they continued walking backwards (from Patrick’s perspective), down the hallway and towards the living room. A little more, and some more, until- Patrick bumped against a shelf and they were forced to stop moving. Which was when Patrick’s elbow hit the on-button of the radio, and the beginning notes of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” started playing.
Pete grinned and started playing with the hem of Patrick’s shirt. Patrick grinned back at him.
After Pete had taken off Patrick’s apron before pulling off his husband’s shirt, Patrick returned the favor, and helped Pete out of his shirt.
Then Pete took Patrick’s hands and pulled him around the living room a bit, in a manner that might have resembled dancing, weren’t it for the countless breaks they took to kiss each other, small pecks on the mouth before they continued moving.
As the music picked up speed, so did their movements.
They danced wildly through the thankfully quite large living room, holding tightly onto each other.
That went well for a bit more than two minutes.
Then they - inevitably despite the room’s size, it seemed - bumped against the wall.
Patrick pulled his beloved closer, his left hand buried in his currently blonde hair, his right hand pulling him close by holding on to his back.
He didn’t stop kissing Pete until the older man was the first of them to struggle for breath.
The closing notes of “Don’t Stop Me Now” were playing on the radio as he took in the beauty of the man whom he knew to be his second half, the love of his life.
Patrick, now flushed entirely, stared back at him with the same amazement showing openly in his eyes.
“Do you think we can make it upstairs to the bedroom at the speed of light, too?”
Patrick’s fast nod was all the approval he needed to pick him up by holding his upper legs and having the younger man’s shirtless chest pressed to his, and carrying him upstairs.
Epilogue
The next time Pete came home to a baking Patrick, he wasn’t greeted by him in the hallway. Instead, he found him in the kitchen, still busy with the dough for some cake, his eyes closed, half-humming, half-singing along to the melody to “Don’t Stop Me Now” that seemed to be playing over and over in his head.
He was so captivated by stirring the dough and humming and singing that he didn’t notice Pete enter, until a warm, slightly larger body moved up against his back and two arms found their way around his waist, holding him closely and in place.
Patrick stopped singing and smiled as he turned his head to be directly be greeted by a kiss from his husband.
Before he could say anything, though, Pete made him turn around and pulls him tighter.
“You know, if you continue humming this song I don’t think I’ll be able to forget one of the best days ever.”
Patrick waited for him to continue, knowing Pete wasn’t all done yet.
“But I would prefer to remember it, so please keep singing and come here, you deli-”
“Pete!”
Pete stared at him in puzzlement, close to having huge question marks form in his brown eyes.
“Just…”, Patrick looked sorry for interrupting his husband so harshly and blushed lightly. “Just let me put the finished dough in the fridge first, yeah?” He scratched his head, feeling truly sorry for-
Pete kissed him on his cheek, his hand lingering on Patrick’s neck for another second, before he quickly picked up some foil from the counter and wrapped it over the bowl with the dough- only after sticking his (to his defense, clean) finger into the dough. He swiftly opened the door of the refrigerator and put the sealed bowl inside, before appreciatively sucking the dough from his finger and moving back towards the sink, where Patrick had by now cleaned some dough remains from his hands, humming along to Queen again.
Pete grinned. The younger man knew exactly what he was doing.
“Remember the ‘don’t make out in the kitchen rule’ we made when we moved in here two years ago?” Patrick asked as he turned around to face Pete, who had, for some second, placed his lips on Patrick’s neck, humming along to the melody of the song his lover had been humming.
“Huh- yeah?”
Patrick grinned, almost smugly, and Pete knew he had him at this point, although he had always had him from day one, if he was honest.
“Screw that rule!”
Pete agreed, full-heartedly.
((And so, they screwed the rule.))