pastry chef art! probably the most ambitious kid to walk into veniero’s, but he was worth all the time it took to train him. patrick’s constantly teasing him about bakers being the geeks of the culinary world, but he’s easily silenced when donaldson shoves the dessert of the day in his face for the small price of shutting the fuck up.
ever since moving to new york you struggled to find any semblance of a routine, but the one thing you could count on was your favorite bakery. it was just down the street from your apartment and you frequented it whenever you weren’t running late to work. your favorite part about it was that the moment you stepped foot into the threshold, you’d smell the fresh batch of cookies that had been whipped up or the loaf of sourdough that was in the oven. the fact the baker—and only employee—was cute was just an added bonus.
sometimes, even when you were late to work or weren’t even hungry, you’d stop off at the bakery to pick up something small just so you could see him. (you’d learned his name was art around the third time you’d come in. he said you were his first regular customer.) most days you’d buy a cookie that you could snack on throughout the work day, but if you were feeling peckish you’d buy a sandwich and a brownie.
art knew what kind of cookies you liked, how you wanted your sandwiches, and what part of the brownie was your favorite by heart. sometimes when he didn’t want to drag himself out of bed at 4 am to start prepping his various batters and doughs, he’d think of you and how disappointed you’d be without your baked goods.
about a month into you coming into the bakery consistently, art started to give you extra goodies for free. sometimes it was a new dessert recipe he was trying out or he’d just give you your entire order for free. this went on for only a few days before you started to feel guilty about it.
the bell on the door signaled your arrival to art. he looked up from the back kitchen and smiled. you smiled in return, laughing at the flour that dusted his nose and cheeks. with pink ears, art hastily rubbed at his face, removing the white powder.
he washed his hands and made his way over to you and the register. “the usual?” he asked, taking in your outfit. he noticed that you weren’t wearing your standard work outfit and donned more casual clothing instead which, was unusual for a tuesday.
“yes, but-” you began, but were swiftly cut off by art. he shook his head, “this is on the house. i insist.”
you sighed, knowing that there was no way to talk him out of this. “well, is there any way i could pay you back? anything i could do for you?”
art pondered your offer for a moment. had he thought about you asking him this question before? absolutely! he’d been waiting for an opportunity to get closer to you; to shift the relationship between customer and worker to possibly friends. “do you have work today?” he asked, giving a pointed look towards your clothes.
you shook your head, “my boss gave us the day off for our mental health.”
art smiled one of his crooked grins and you thought your legs might give out from under you. sure you’d seen his face before, but never for this long. it was strange to you how someone so beautiful was a baker in a busy city rather than being a model who strutted down a catwalk.
“do you want to learn how i bake?” he offered, his voice suddenly shy. you’d never seen art so nervous before. he was always smiley and energetic, so this was endearing to see.
“you’d really want to teach me?” you asked. in response he nodded eagerly. “of course i do. after all you’re my favorite customer.”
—
the first thing art showed you how to make was his famous chocolate chip cookies. you’d always assumed they were like any other cookie recipe, but he was quick to correct you on that. the thing that made his cookies special were that he used browned butter instead of regular for a nutty, caramelized flavor and chocolate shavings instead of chips. while art worked on browning the butter, he had you chopping up a bar of chocolate.
when it came time to mixing the dough, he let you do it but eventually had to take over when your arms got too tired. you watched him as he leaned over the bowl, spatula in hand as he folded the chocolate shavings in. you’d never think something as mundane as mixing could be so attractive, but art made it the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. his biceps nearly bulged from the sleeves of his black shirt and the look of concentration on his face made you want him to bend you over the counter top. you knew how perverted your thoughts were, but little did you know art had a similar track mind.
while you were looking through the pantry for some seasonings that art needed, he couldn’t help but stare at your ass as you bent over to pick something off the floor. he thought about coming behind you and fucking you senseless in his pantry, but he knew that would be wrong and violate so many health and safety codes. every time you would bite your lip as art explained something to you, he nearly lost his train of thought.
the two of you danced around each other, never admitting to the shared attraction. every so often art would place his hand on your lower back as he passed by and you tried to hide the shiver that racked down your spine. sometimes your hand would linger for a few extra seconds whenever he handed you something and you’d look directly into his eyes before taking the item and going back to work. the last hour of cleaning up the bakery and preparing to close had been completely silent. the two of you had been too wound up to actually say anything.
—
“so i’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as the two of you walked towards your apartment. art hadn’t initially planned on escorting you home, but once he found out you had walked here, he knew he had to.
you nodded, “yeah. do you make lemon bars? I've been craving one lately.”
he shook his head, "i'll start thinking of a recipe. i've been meaning to expand my menu."
eventually the two of you reached your apartment door where the both of you lingered. neither of you wanted to go, but neither of you wanted to initiate anything in fear that the other didn’t reciprocate those feelings.
you sighed, “well, this is me.” you awkwardly fidgeted with your keys. the jangle was the only sound for a few moments.
art’s eyes flitted from the door and back to you before he took a step closer, causing you to take a step back, your spin now pressed flush against the wood. you looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure what he was going to do. in your head you’d been wanting him to kiss you, but now as that moment drew closer, you were increasingly nervous. it didn’t help that you could feel your palms start to sweat and your body get hot through the layers you were wearing.
he cupped your cheek, his hands surprisingly rough for someone who baked all day. art’s calluses brushed against your skin. this thumb gently traced your lower lip, picking up any lipgloss that had been there. he swallowed. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard before.
you nodded dumbly, unable to conjure up any words. he laughed softly, smiling at you. “i need you to use your words.” you nearly came in your pants.
“you can kiss me,” you said, the words coming out as more of a squeak. art smiled and dipped his face down before pressing his lips to yours. they were soft against your own as he kissed you like you were something precious. his other hand gently wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.
you gasped at the sudden move and art used the parting of your lips to slide his tongue into your mouth. you’d never really liked kissing with tongue, but art was something else entirely. the way he licked into you like he was eating you out had you nearly pulling his hair out. the hand that was on your face traveled up to your hand, tapping it gently to remind you to loosen your grip. you started to pull away to apologize, but art’s mouth chased yours and he was kissing you again.
the two of you made out in the hallway like a couple of horny teenagers until one of your neighbors walked by, reminding the two of you where you were. you quickly broke apart, catching your breaths.
“i should probably get going,” art said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. as much as he wanted an invite into your apartment, he knew he wouldn’t be able to spend a night with you and manage to wake up at 4 am.
you nodded, “you have a long day ahead of you.” with one final kiss, art made his way back to his apartment and you entered yours. that night art thought of a new lemon bar recipe that he'd eventually name after you.
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