This was so sweet. Stephen Colbert just ended his final episode of The Late Show while singing "Hello, Goodbye" with Paul McCartney. his family and the show's crew then joined them on stage before Paul turned off the lights to the Ed Sullivan Theater.
Notes: This was supposed to be shorter. Oh well.
Not beta-read, cause when is it ever.
Warnings: Fake dating; fluff. This is just fluff.
Summary: You’d signed up for the cooking class on a complete whim. You’d been tipsy after brunch, wandering through one of your favorite cookware stores. The signup sheet had practically waved at you, and you’d jotted your name down, secure in the knowledge that you did indeed have something to do for Valentine’s Day.
But what you had failed to realize, when you’d so smugly put your name down, was that it was a couple’s cooking class.
You were trying not to feel too goddamn awkward about the whole thing but—hell, this sucked.
It was bad enough to begin with. All of your friends were coupled up, and had apparently formed a consensus that if they didn’t step in, you would die alone.
Well, the joke was on them—that was already your plan.
But their repeated attempts to sign you up for speed dating on Valentine’s Day was as abhorrent as it was uncomfortable. You had managed to talk them down, to insist that you had your own plans. You hadn’t specified what those plans were, but they’d still backed down.
You’d signed up for the cooking class on a complete whim. You’d been tipsy after brunch, wandering through one of your favorite cookware stores. The signup sheet had practically waved at you, and you’d jotted your name down, secure in the knowledge that you did indeed have something to do for Valentine’s Day.
But what you had failed to realize, when you’d so smugly put your name down, was that it was a couple’s cooking class.
So there you were, surrounded by eleven nuzzling, giggling, hand-holding couples who were ready to feed each other whatever the hell it was that you would be making. You’d gotten a couple of odd looks, but for the most part, the couples were so wrapped up in one another that they hadn’t taken too much notice of the fact that you were there by yourself. Maybe that would work to your advantage. You made yourself busy with the laminated recipe in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the ties on your apron. God, this was going to be a long night—
“Is this, uh—Half of your table taken?”
The question caught you off-guard, and you turned to see a harassed looking man trying and failing to shrug out of his camel coat.
“N-no,” You shook your head.
“You’re not—” He cast his bright, coffee brown eyes around the room toward the other couples. “You’re not waiting for anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Great.”
“There’s a coat rack over there. Aprons are on the end.” You nodded toward it.
“Great.”
You watched him go, plucking up a hanger and shoving his coat onto it with muted irritation. Your brows rose at the way he jabbed it into the shoulders, tipping up the fabric as he did. He looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t place him.
You hurriedly turned back to the table as you saw hi turn back toward you. It wouldn’t do to be caught staring at the stranger that you would be spending the next couple of hours with. Maybe the time would pass in a comfortable quiet as you worked in tandem. It was possible that not a single word would be spoken between you—
“So how did you get roped into this?” His question was dipping with vitriol.
“Uh…” Now you were embarrassed to say. “I signed up.”
“To a couple’s cooking class?”
“Yes.”
“...By yourself?”
His tone was one part confused, two parts disbelieving, and it made you feel like a whole idiot.
“I didn’t read too closely when I was signing up.”
“Ah.”
“What about you?” You chanced a glance toward the man just in time to catch him grimacing.
“...I lost a bet with my boss.”
“And you’re going through with it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” You laughed. “Who’s your boss, the president or something?”
The man’s guarded gaze flickered toward you, and your mirthful grin fell away as the pieces fell into place.
“Oh…My god.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re Josh Lyman.”
“Yeah.”
“...Holy shit.”
“Thanks, I think.”
You scoffed a laugh before you turned back to your table, gently nudging the recipe between the two of you. He leaned in, his warm breath pushing against your cheek as he murmured,
“...Do I get to know your name, too?”
“Oh! God, yeah, sorry.” You turned, holding your hand out to him and introducing yourself. His smile lifted a bit as you pumped his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” You added, finally letting go of him.
“Yeah, nice to meet you, too.”
You turned back to the table, fingers drumming on the butcher block countertop as the teacher called you all to attention:
“Happy Valentine’s Day, all! My name is Amanda, and I’ll be your teacher. I’m so glad that you were all able to make it here this evening. Tonight, we’ll be making the recipe that was highly requested: Better Than Sex cake.” Her gaze swept around the room, a knowing smile on her lips. You almost wanted to shrink back at the speculative look that passed over you, Josh's mutter of, “Crying out loud," at your side.
“So! This recipe will need to be attacked as a team! I will demonstrate up here, so try to keep the canoodling to the minimum when the stove and oven are on. We want red-hot love, not red-hot hands and a trip to the ER.”
“To show all of the other couples how strong we are as a team.”
“We’re not a team.”
“We are tonight. Besides, they don’t know that.”
Your brows rose, amusement swelling at the mischievous glint in his eyes.
“...You just wanna piss these people off.”
“A little, yeah. This holiday is bullshit. Let’s ruin it.”
You grinned, unable to help yourself.
“That sounds absolutely diabolical, Mr. Lyman.”
“You in?”
You might work terribly together. The cake could wind up being a complete disaster.
“I am so in.”
“Let’s begin!” Amanda clapped her hands together. “Now I know that we could take a shortcut here and use a boxed mix for the devil’s food cake, but there are no shortcuts in love. We will be making everything from scratch."
You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the comment, already reaching for the cocoa powder. You glanced toward Josh, brows knitting.
“Do you cook at all?”
“I’m very good at burning stuff.”
“Okay,” You nodded, “This is gonna be great.”
“Apparently you’re the optimist in the relationship.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“You know what, so was I. Match made in heaven.”
--
“...So can I ask what the bet was?” You plied, glancing over at Josh. He hummed questioningly, doing a double-take when he caught you looking at him.
“Oh, I, uh,” He huffed a humorless laugh, “I made the mistake of arguing with him on the outcome of the Mets-Nationals game. Last time I make an over/under bet with the president.”
“What’s an over/under?”
“It’s a bet on the points total. You’re, uh,” He smiled, watching you stir a saucepan of milk, butter, water, cocoa powder, and instant coffee together, “You’re not a gambler, are you.”
“Not at all.”
“Took a gamble on this cooking class, how’s that working out for ya?”
You glanced at him, considering. So far, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as you thought it would be. You actually had a partner to cook with, and he was pretty easy on the eyes, if you were being completely honest. You gave a small shrug, turning back to the pan.
“It’s already turning out better than I thought.” Your panic flared as you rushed to cover: “I mean, didn’t think I’d be making cake tonight. I like cake.”
"Yeah, cake is good.”
You glanced up at the sound of Amanda’s voice as she called out, “Whoever is not bringing the chocolate mixture together should be putting together the dry ingredients.”
“That’s you, Lyman.”
“On it.”
You watched him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the steady, sure movements he makes as
“...So, who won, the Mets or the Nats?”
“The Nats? Oh, god. Am I baking with a Nationals fan?”
“No,” You chuckled, “But you’re baking with the daughter of one.”
“The Nationals won.”
“You poor thing.”
“Keep that up and you’re gonna be making this cake yourself.”
“Do I hear a lover’s quarrel brewing?” Amanda asked, and it was only a second before everyone's attention landed on the two of you.
“No, no!” You hurried, slapping a smile on your face.
“My honey likes it when I tease her,” Josh tacked on, and it was so fast and sounded so natural that it nearly knocked you on your ass.
“Oh, look at her lovesick little smile,” Amanda cooed, sending a bolt of embarrassment shooing from your head to the tips of you toes. “A little passion will add spice in the kitchen. The rest of the class could take a leaf out of your book.”
You glanced toward Josh just in time to catch his smug smile growing before he went back to measuring and sifting the dry ingredients. You waited until Amanda goes back to teaching before you leaned a little closer, murmuring, “Quick thinking.”
“That’s why they pay me.”
“Not for your secret inflation plans?”
“Ouch,” Josh laughed humorlessly. “No. Definitely not for my secret inflation plans.”
--
“Now,” Amanda clapped her hands together. “We all have our cakes in the oven at 350—save for Gina and Marvin, but don’t fret, kids. This is how we learn about the importance of communication—in life, in love, and in the kitchen!” She shot a sickly sweet smile at the couple closest to her. You bit down on your lip to keep from laughing, but couldn’t help a soft snort as Josh murmured, “Gina’s head looks like it’s going to explode.”
You lightly elbowed him in the ribs, covering your mouth to hide your smile.
“We have a little time while the cake is in the oven, and I’d love to get to know who I’m baking with! Why don’t we go around the room—”
“Oh no,” You mumbled.
“And get to know a bit about one another! I’d love to know your names, how long the two of you have been together, and how you met! Gina, Marvin, let’s start with you two.”
“Quick huddle,” Josh murmured, scooching closer. He turned his head slightly, eyes set on the wall behind your head as he spoke into your ear: “How do you wanna play this?”
“Why are you asking me? You’re the quick thinker here, remember?”
“Yeah, but we’re a team.”
“So?”
“So it’s your turn to make something up.”
“I didn’t realize we were taking it in turns.”
“Gotta give to get, honeybun.”
“Are all of your pet names honey-based variants?”
“Would you prefer sugar-based variants?”
“I’m sensing a theme. Thank god we didn’t meet at a sausage making class.”
“Afraid you’d put the brat in bratwurst?”
“Lyman—”
“And what about you two!” Amanda’s voice cut through your bickering, snapping your attention back to the front of the room. You forced a calm expression, quickly introducing yourself.
“And this is Josh. We’ve been together for…Well, let’s see if Josh knows.”
A knowing chuckle from the other women rippled through the room, and Josh’s lips twitched with a smile.
“It’ll be two years next week."
You narrowed your eyes slightly. Two years, huh?
“How close is he?” Amanda prodded.
“Close enough, I’ll let it slide.”
Another knowing chuckle from the group, but you were too distracted by the way Josh’s smile widened, deepening his dimples as he stepped back to eye the cake in the oven.
“And how did you two meet?”
“At a sausage making class.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop it, but it was well worth Josh’s head snapping up in surprise. There were a few guffaws from the surrounding couples, but Amanda’s interested, “Aaaah,” Cut over the class.
“Then this isn’t your first cooking class rodeo?”
“Oh, hardly.”
“That explains why the two of you have been so in-sync. The trust that the two of you have,” Amanda shakes her head, “It really reads. Were you paired up in that class as well?”
“No, but the teacher suggested that we look to Josh for pointers. He was nominated as having the best of the wursts.”
You could see Josh pull his lips between his teeth, biting down as his shoulders subtly shook with laughter.
“Baking is a little more my thing,” You added, “But he’s getting there.”
“That’s so sweet. I cannot wait to see how your cake turns out,” Amanda grinned, clapping her hands together before gesturing to the next couple. “And you two?”
Josh shuffled a little closer as the class’ attention shifted, hip nudging against yours.
“You’re unbelievable,” He muttered.
“That’s why you love me.” You gave Josh a sickly sweet smile. “And whatever needs winging next, it’s your turn.”
--
“That was not bad cake.”
“No, not bad. The caramel, though.” Josh’s nose wrinkled as he held the door open for you, “So fiddly.”
“I thought you were going to set that last batch on fire.”
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that burnt.”
“Oh, yes it was,” You laughed, tightening the collar of your coat against the damp DC chill. You glanced down at the to go bag hanging over your arm.
“We should figure out splitting the cake up.”
“You can have it.”
“What? No way, I can’t finish this thing by myself. Besides, if you bring some in for the president, you’ll prove that you actually went through with the bet.”
Josh’s lips pursed as he glanced around.
“I hate to admit it, but that’s a really good point.”
You considered, glancing in the same direction before making yet another snap-decision.
“I live, like, three blocks away. We can split it into tupperware. That way neither of us wind up with an entire cake.”
Josh hesitated, shaking his sleeve back to eye his watch.
“Ah…Okay. Okay, sure.”
“Cool. I'm this way,” You nodded to the right, leading the way down the block. Josh’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you a little closer, and you frowned, glancing back toward it.
“Uh—”
“Amanda just came out and she’s locking up,” Josh murmured.
“Goodnight, lovebirds!” You heard, and you twisted your head, giving her a friendly wave.
“Night!”
“Lovebirds,” Josh muttered.
“Oh, be nice. She was very sweet, all things considered. She didn’t lay on the romance stuff too thick.”
“You didn’t think that was too thick? The whole…No shortcuts, or the importance of communication in life or love or whatever?”
“I mean, none of that is technically wrong.”
“So you’re a Nationals fan and a hopeless romantic?”
“No. I’m just willing to accept that there are certain things that make relationships successful.”
“Right,” Josh muttered. “Well, if you’re so aware of these things, why aren’t you in a relationship?”
Your smile faltered, and you turned your attention forward again.
“...Or is there someone and they fucked up so royally that you had separate Valentine’s plans?” Josh prodded. You shook your head.
“No. There’s no one.”
“So?”
“Well why are you single?”
Josh blinked owlishly, mouth pursed into a small ‘o’.
“Uh—I’m busy,” He shrugged. “It’s kind of a high-profile job, working for the president—”
“Brag.”
“—And the people I meet I’m mostly working with. Flirting is kinda frowned upon in the White House.”
“Frowned upon, but not explicitly against the rules?”
“It’s usually a bad idea, trust me. I’ve dated people I’ve worked with before, it’s almost never gone well.”
“Almost?”
“...Never.”
“Mm.”
“What about you? I don’t even know what you do.”
“I’m a paralegal, and there’s no one at work that I would date.”
“No? Not scoping out some handsome hot-shot lawyer who’s too busy eyeing a corner office to notice all of the love you pour into your memos?”
“Oh, please,” You scoffed. “All of the lawyers I work with are at least 60.”
“Older guys can be good. Nice and stable.”
“And looking for blondes in their early twenties that’ll look good yachting in Cape Cod.”
“I think you’d look great yachting in Cape Cod.”
“Well thanks, but I’m not sure they’d agree.”
“No interest in anyone outside of work?”
“Eh. I don’t know,” You shook your head. “Not really? My friends are all in relationships and they’ve been nagging me to get out there more, but it all just…Sucks. That’s how I wound up signing up for that class. I just wanted to tell them I had plans tonight so they’d get off my back.”
You fished into your pocket for your keys as you neared the front door, reluctantly stepping out from under Josh’s arm to lead the way up the stoop steps.
--
“Nice place.”
“Thanks,” You shot him a small smile over your shoulder as you head into the kitchen. “I’ll just grab some tupperware.” You shrugged out of your coat, hanging it and your keys up in their usual places in your entryway. You got a few steps down the hall before you stopped, turning to look at Josh. All of the other chances that you’d taken that evening had paid off, more or less. One more couldn’t hurt, right?
“Would you like something to drink?”
Josh looked up from his pager, brows raised in surprise.
“Oh—Sure.”
“Water? Beer, wine…?” You trailed off, taking another couple of steps back.
“Beer would be nice.”
“Okay.” You turned, adding, “You can leave your coat there,” as you hurried into the kitchen. You set the bag of cake on the counter before opening your fridge. Beer first, then tupperware. He’d stay for maybe half, you’d divvy the cake up, then bing bang boom, he would be out of there.
--
“Tell me another one.”
“No, god no,” You laughed, leaning back against your couch. “I’ve already told you too much.”
“One more,” Josh implored, scooching closer, his knee nudging yours.
“It’s your turn.”
Josh sighed, tipping his head back as he considered. You rested your elbow against the back of the couch and propped your chin up on your hand as you got a better look at him. With a beer in hand and his tie loosened, he was a far cry from the harried man that had asked to share your counter at the cooking class.
“Alright, I’ve got one,” He met your eye again. “The heat was out in the West Wing, so Sam—I told you about Sam?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He and I had the great idea to start a fire in one of the fireplaces.”
Your brow furrowed a touch. “That…Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
“Well, it is if the fireplace is decorative and sealed.”
You spluttered a laugh as Josh shook his head with a grudging smile.
“Oh…Mr. Lyman.”
“Live and learn.”
You shook your head, leaning up to put your empty can of beer on the coffee table. Your eyes caught on the clock in the corner, and your eyes widened slightly.
“Oh—Shit.”
“What is it?” Josh twisted to see what you were looking at. He hurriedly shook his sleeve back, double-checking the time on his watch. “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah,” You laughed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you this late—”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Let me divvy that cake up.” You pushed off of the couch, taking up your empty beer can and hurrying back to the kitchen. You really hadn’t meant to keep Josh there. Sure, it had been nice to talk to him, but it was three in the morning for crying out loud. You fished into your cabinet for clean tupperware before you pulled the cake out of the bag that you’d brought home. You heard Josh coming in, but focused on cutting the cake.
“Yeesh, you’re giving me all of that?”
“Equal division of assets.”
“Very generous of you.”
You smiled, plopping his half in the tupperware. You set the knife in the sink, raising your thumb to suck off some of the caramel that had caught on your thumb. You glanced over to look at Josh and froze at the sight of his eyes lingering on your mouth before his gaze flitted up to yours. You turned back to the cake, heat creeping up your neck as you set the top on the tupperware.
“You gonna tell the president what the cake was called?” You asked, desperate to fill the heated silence.
“...Probably just him that it's cake.”
“That’s wise.”
You took the bag that the cake had come in, setting Josh’s tupperware in it and holding it.
“Sorry again for keeping you so late.”
“You didn’t,” Josh insisted.
“I just mean—”
“I know what you mean, but. You didn’t.”
You nodded, letting him head down the hall. You stalled in the kitchen, putting your half of the cake in the fridge. You drew in a deep breath, steadying yourself. He wasn’t looking at your mouth like that, he was just—He was probably perturbed that a grown woman was sucking caramel off of her thumb instead of washing her hands.
You turned into the hall, slowing as Josh pulled his coat on. You tucked your hands into your pockets, wandering closer.
“You know, I’m, um…I’m sorry the Mets lost, but I’m glad you wound up at that class. That introduction round would’ve been painful to go through alone.”
“I’m glad you didn’t read the sign up sheet more closely.”
You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I am, too.”
You stopped in front of Josh as he finished buttoning up his coat. When he looked at you again, you found the mischievous little smile that you were quickly becoming enamored with on his lips.
“How cliché would it be if I asked you out on Valentine’s Day?”
You blinked at him, stunned, as the question washed over you. Was he kidding?
“Well, it’s not Valentine's Day anymore, Josh. Hasn’t been for a couple of hours.”
“I meant to ask you out a couple of hours ago.”
You bit your lip to keep a grin from spreading across your lips. “But you didn’t.”
“You were talking about accidentally spilling a cup of coffee all over your favorite shirt, seemed like a bad time to bring it up.”
“Oh, so that was what convinced you to ask me out? The reassurance that you wouldn’t be the clumsiest one in the relationship?”
“No, it was the fact that I realized it was midnight, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.”
“Ah, so technically, I did keep you late.”
The tease was hardly out of your mouth before Josh crossed the short space between the two of you, cupping your cheek and catching your lips in a soft kiss. Your eyes widened in slight surprise before you let them slip closed, mouth working tenderly against his as you curled your arms around his shoulders. His arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you into his chest as he backed you up against your hall wall.
You let yourself hone in on the press of his body against yours, the slight nudge of his knee between your thighs, as his tongue teased gently along the seam of your lips. You shivered, parting your lips and fingers twining in the curls at the nape of his neck. Josh drew back slowly, nose nudging gently against yours.
“Alright, maybe you are keeping me late,” He murmured, “But I’m happy to be kept."
You tipped your chin up, drawing hiss lower lip between yours and giving it a gentle suck. He groaned, fingers tightening in your shirt as he drew back, resting his forehead against yours.
"Can I see you this weekend?"
You tipped your head back against the wall, fingers teasing around to his jaw.
"On one condition."
His smile widened as he turned his head to press a kiss to your fingertips.
"Name it," He murmured, voice buzzing against your palm.
I squeezed my way into a MHA event and now look at me... I'm coming to you with a BakuDeku fic!
That's right, I'm stretching my lil fic writing wings and trying on this popular pair, as well as dabbling in AUs, to bring you a fic inspired by some fantastic artwork by Jess.
Take a look at the gorgeous neon dream art by jess on Twitter here
Then check out my one-shot: Class Act
It's all part of the @bkdkbkdaydream fluffy reverse bang, where artists present sketches and pitches, and us writers get to tell the story behind their work.
In this Band AU, Midoriya Izuku finds himself estranged from Bakugou Katsuki after a series of misunderstandings lead their band to splitting in two. A year later, Midoriya's band opens for Bakugou after he receives an invitation to join his tour. We come in to see Midoriya, running high on adrenaline from his set, contemplating why Bakugou asked him here. They haven't spoken. Bakugou hasn't even looked at him. Yet, he does things that show he cares.
