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When they got home from the grocery store, Timur sensed something amiss with Maxim. The older man seemed hurried and in a rush to get things done. Usually he wouldn’t start cooking dinner until they were both hungry, yet the moment they set down the groceries, he was dicing vegetables over the chopping board like a chef during rush hour. Timur reclined on the sofa and watched him from afar, trying to think back over their day to see if he had missed Maxim telling him there was something important to do.
With the soup bubbling over the stove, Maxim disappeared into the bedroom for several minutes before emerging in something other than the raggedy clothes he wore at home and Timur had to do a double-take. Were they going somewhere? It was only a Wednesday and Maxim only went to the pub on the weekends.
“There’s soup for you on the stove so just heat it up when you’re hungry and make sure to put the leftovers in the fridge,” he said, standing before Timur where he was stretched out on their couch. “I’m going to James’ place for dinner.”
“He cooks?” Timur sat up and blinked away his sluggishness from being sedentary for so long.
“Yeah, well- not tonight. We’re ordering pizza, watching some boxing match.” Maxim pressed a scratchy kiss against his cheek and in the close proximity Timur smelled of his freshly reapplied deodorant. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“If you’re drinking, you’ll need someone to pick you up,” he pointed out because he knew that friend group too well. Dominic, James, Maxim, all united under their favourite pastime of getting mildly buzzed, talking a whole lot of shit at each other while watching televised sports. “You’ll need a lift home as well.”
“Yeah, Dominic is coming over to pick me up. He won’t be drinking.” In the meanwhile, Maxim sat down and put an arm around Timur’s shoulders, leaning in close to nuzzle against him. He checked his phone for notifications and found none, so he took it as a sign that he had some time to spare. A finger stroking the smooth skin behind Timur’s ear, Maxim looked fondly at his lover for a moment. “You won’t miss me too badly, will you?”
Raising a brow, Timur regarded him with a confused stare before he gave an exhale in a humorous manner.
“Oh, it’ll be dreadful. One evening without you? I don’t think I can cope,” he said, feeding that needy ego of his. They fell into quiet laughter and Maxim ruffled his hair. He made sure to rub his scratchy stubble against Timur’s neck before he pressed one final kiss against his warm skin. Their affections were interrupted by the buzz of Maxim’s phone. “Alright, go have fun.”
Jacket on, keys in his pocket, cigarettes and phone in hand, Maxim left the apartment. The elevator ride was awkward and long, interrupted by people coming on. There were a few stares, though something he used to by now. He was just some guy they had never seen before, someone with a couple nasty scars on his face, a bad case of looking unapproachable without a smile on his face and when he did smile, it looked menacing. Even his own mother said so.
There was a motorcycle parked by the entrance of the apartment block. Dominic was waiting with his helmet resting in his lap and a half-smoked cigarette sandwiched at the corner of his mouth. They greeted each other with a nod then Dominic passed him the spare helmet.
It had been years since Maxim rode on a motorcycle, mindless riding pillion. He tightened the chin-strap and gave it a knock.
“That’ll keep your skull together if we get hit by a lorry,” Dominic told him and stubbed out his cigarette, giving a toothy grin. He put on his own helmet with less clumsiness and motioned for Maxim to get on. At first it was a bit awkward before Maxim told himself he’d rather scoot a bit closer than to risk falling off, even if they were veering close to touching crotch to ass. “Alright, hold on. You don’t have to give me a reach-around, but don’t be shy.”
Maxim settled for placing his hands on the shoulders, even if it did feel a bit awkward. There was a pause between them then Dominic motioned for him to grab the waist.
“And look over my inside shoulder on a curve, don’t lean against it. If something is wrong, tap me twice and I’ll pull over.” They were simple instructions which Maxim had heard before, though a long time ago. He nodded, taking them in because the last thing he wanted was to be the cause for them eating asphalt.
The journey to James’ house was a twenty minute drive, most of it getting lost in a suburban residential area because no matter how many times he had driven here, Dominic never really remembered the route properly, especially not coming from the direction of Maxim’s apartment. In due time, they managed to find their way onto James’ driveway.
“Fun?” Dominic asked with a laugh, watching as Maxim gingerly got off then tugged his helmet off with some struggle.
“Yeah, not bad,” Maxim agreed, a broad smile on his face. He scrutinised the front lawn where dandelions sprouted from the cracks in the concrete. They must’ve survived whatever chemicals James poured on them. Maxim remembered his incessant complaining about how lawn care was a headache and a half.
The house itself was a small property nestled in a nice neighbourhood, perfect for a couple and in James’ case, perfect for a bachelor like him. During the summers, the residential area wasn’t too noisy. There were many families living nearby, though their kids never got into too much trouble. For a moment, Maxim considered what it would be like to get settled in an actual house of his own rather than renting apartment upon apartment.
Following the sacred doctrine of ‘make yourself at home’, they certainly did get comfortable in James’ place. The match was going to start soon and they were getting hungry. As they bickered over what pizza to get, Maxim trawled through the fridge for something to drink.
A brand of beer he didn’t like, Pepsi, blackcurrant cordial. Maxim took a can of beer and looked around some more, hoping to stumble upon some liquor stashed somewhere that James wouldn’t mind letting him have. However, the Englishman was never one for drinking spirits.
“Oi, Basuda, get over here and take a look at the order,” James called for him, mimicking the tone of a drill instructor. “Had to make a billion changes ‘cos someone here can’t eat anything.”
“I don’t want olives in my food- I don’t want olives touching my food, is that too much to ask for?” Dominic raised a brow to question if he was the one being irrational here.
“Just pick it off-“
“I’ll eat anything, it’s fine,” Maxim slipped in quickly before returning to his quiet exploration of the kitchen. He ignored the resumed bickering and continued taking a look through the cabinets because James was so insistent that they make themselves at home. It was always interesting to see the diets of other people. Maxim’s efforts were rewarded with a half-full bottle of Smirnoff, though he had enough self-respect to not drink something that looked six months old.
Upon the realisation that he should have brought drinks, Maxim returned to squeeze himself onto the cramped sofa.
“You really don’t have anything better than this?” He questioned with a cheeky smile, setting the can onto the coffee table. "Not even Coke?"
James didn’t really know what to respond with, other than the fact that he overlooked it during his trip to the grocery store. “In this house, we drink Pepsi, alright? And I knew Dom was off the drink so I didn’t buy anything nice otherwise he’d be tempted.”
An entertained smile peeked out from under Dominic’s overgrown beard. “That’s sweet of you.”
“What can I say? I’m a good friend.”
A considerable amount of the night passed by the time they remembered the reason why they were here. The pizza and boxing match was just a coincidence that occurred on the same day Dominic was going to orchestrate part of his plan for April Fools. By eight, Maxim managed to clear most of the horrible beer from the fridge and he was on the brink of falling into a food coma on the sofa.
Meanwhile in the kitchen, Dominic was reading through the ingredients and making the calculations to find out if they even had enough eggs to make a big-enough batch of brownies. If it wasn’t imperial units of measurement giving them a headache, it was someone not doing the shopping as they were supposed to. Upon the realisation that they needed more, it meant the only sober person here had to go drive to the store, so Dominic pulled on his jacket and snagged the keys to his motorcycle from the counter.
Called to help, Maxim finally got off the sofa and stumbled into the kitchen. The digital scales were almost out of battery, requiring a firm push to even turn it on. As he measured out a large quantity of flour, a moment of clarity struck him.
“So do you have a mixer or something?” He asked, then he paused to search for the word. “An electric whisk.”
From the silence, this was something else they overlooked when they decided to make fifty brownies. James made a noise then shrugged as if to pretend this wasn’t going to become a problem. Maybe it wouldn’t, seeing as they were three men, all equally athletic so mixing a massive bowl of viscous brownie batter might not be a challenge at all.
By the time Dominic returned with another carton of large eggs, they managed to get all the dry ingredients prepared and laid out. The washing up was going to be a pain, so Maxim took the reins and put his effort into making the batter. His intentions were covert, veiled by his usual tendency to take the lead. What the other two didn’t know was that there was no way in hell they would have Maxim wash the dishes too.
“It says to add half of the flour- Jesus, Dom!” James took a step back from the cloud of flour billowing in the air and Maxim furrowed his brows, still holding onto the mixing bowl. The front of his shirt was dusty now. “That looks like a lot… did we measure it right?”
"You measured it,” Maxim reminded him and began to fold in the dry ingredients. “You were the one going on about how this is basically chemistry, how you have to measure everything exact- Dom, that’s not the sugar.”
It was the salt they measured out to spike half the brownies with. Luckily Dominic had not tipped the bowl, otherwise it would have ruined the entire batch. He poured in the granulated sugar then gave Maxim a firm pat on the shoulder, muttering about going to have a smoke and he left the two of them to keep working.
Aside from the particles of flour in the air, Maxim couldn’t help but to notice the clouds from James’ vape occasionally wafting by. The smell was discreet enough that it didn’t bother him, though what had him distracted was the thought that a vape would be much more convenient than having to step out for a cigarette. No more cold nights huddled up in a coat and maybe Timur would stop reminding him that he stank.
Over the laborious act of mixing batter as thick as cement, the topic of their nicotine addiction cropped up once more. They had chatted about it before, though the idea of taking a proactive approach did not really strike Maxim until now. There was a productive energy in him tonight, the sudden urge to become a homeowner and sort out this nasty addiction. Perhaps he was tired of being able to hear his neighbours through the walls and coughing up tar every morning. Perhaps in a big house of his own, he'd have his own electric whisk to make baked goods with, a bigger fridge to fill up with nice liquor instead of watery beer and Pepsi.
The baking trays were prepared with parchment paper, one for the salted batter and another for the regular batter. Just as Dominic sprinkled some more chocolate chunks on top, he paused and let out a sigh. They forgot to preheat the oven.
For a bunch of guys who were considered good enough to be on an elite counterterrorism force, they really were disorganised. With the oven heating up, they returned to the sofa and by now Maxim was wishing he stayed at home. He leaned against the armrest and hugged a cushion to his chest, finding himself inching closer to slipping into a slumber.
It turned out that he did nod off. The sudden movement of Dominic standing up at the first beep of the timer roused him from his nap and he blinked, almost confused by his surroundings. James stretched and got up, sauntered to the kitchen counter and sniffled the aroma in the air.
“So, uh,” he began and shifted his gaze between the two trays. “Which ones are the bad ones?”
Maybe it was a good thing that there were no visual differences between the batches. Dominic said he put more chocolate chunks on the salted ones to make them look more appealing, though now they stood over the tray with no desire to take a gamble. The batter was almost corrosive on the tongue, something that could be used to kill slugs on the driveway.
They made haste with cutting the sheet into nice squares and a light dusting of icing sugar helped give the illusion that these were some treats that a kind soul prepared for everyone. All that was left was to sneak these into the break room without anyone noticing and it just so happened there would be a meeting tomorrow morning.
The cold air of the night helped sober Maxim up. He concentrated on remaining upright on the journey home, hoping to make it back in one piece without risking their lives to some freak accident. Luckily he was in safe hands. As much as they liked to joke that Dominic had little regard for his own life, the guy did have a strong sense of responsibility when it came to his friends.
Finally home, Maxim slipped under the covers of a warm bed and settled in loving arms, and the thought of tomorrow’s calamity did not even cross his mind.
When James wasn’t present in the conference room, the sluggishness weighing on Maxim’s mind was replaced with a mischief that had his attention wavering from the slideshow. It wasn’t anything particularly important, just a discussion about the various support networks available at Rainbow, whether they helped or not. Soon enough, Gustave’s heavily accented English was merely a noise in the background.
Maxim found his gaze meeting Dominic’s. They refrained from smiling, not wishing to attract any attention because by now, the three of them had built up a reputation when it came to those stupid pranks. One year it was swapping the sugar and salt in the breakroom, the other year it was going to every single desk and swapping the caps on the pens. It was never anything dangerous or malicious, just something to have a laugh over. No one was going to drop dead from eating their brownies today, but they were in for a nasty shock.
To their luck, there was some more active participation in this meeting from the others. Over the chatter, Maxim could sit back and ruminate over all the possible outcomes. Would anyone even suspect it was them? Only one way to find out.
There wasn’t the same weariness walking out of this meeting compared to some others, likely because they found this one to be a more productive use of their time compared to number-crunching the amount of funding they gained or lost for the R&D department. Nothing like Elena rattling off the amount of damages they wracked up in the testing chambers alongside costs of fire extinguishers. These kinds of meetings were obviously different to the operational briefings and Maxim knew when to play and when to work.
As they planned, the brownies were sitting on the countertop. Inconspicuous, just sitting there like any other time someone would bring baked goods to work. Although, there was some confusion because it was usually a Monday ordeal to help them through the week. It began as leftovers from Olivier’s contributions to the bake sales of the local church, then it evolved into an act of generosity because love thy neighbour extended to his coworkers too.
“What’s all this?” Mike gave a humorous chuckle and raised a brow. “Flament’s been busy, hm?”
Having just entered the room, Olivier furrowed his brows, his expression painted with a mixture of confusion and apathy to the surprise on the counter. Unlike his other colleagues, he was not baited into immediately taking one before they all ran out. “Not mine,” he answered as he fiddled with the coffee machine to get a pot brewing.
Maxim weaved his way through the bodies to grab one. He tasted a small portion of it and to his luck, it was one of the regular ones. Finding his way to Timur, he offered the treat to him.
“We made these,” he told Timur with a slight sense of pride. The batter tasted nice, surely enough the brownie itself would be equally as good. He waited for any reaction and consciously reminded himself not to be standing too close. “What do you think?”
Before Timur could answer, there was a rouse of negative reactions from the others, faces scrunching up in disgust and bewilderment. The victims of the prank glanced around to see if anyone else had been greeted by a mouthful of salt and to their dismay, they had all fallen for it. Then the continued confusion from those who managed to snag a sweet brownie because they didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
The dots began to click, mostly due to Dominic losing his cool from watching Marius spit it out and into the bin. A glance from the calendar relieved everyone of the fear of food poisoning. It was this time of the year again, the only opportunity to justify a bit more fun in the workplace than usual. Dominic much preferred to describe it as some variation in the workday. Even those working a nine to five would change things up once in a while, so these annual pranks were merely a moment of fun during their downtime.
A glass of water later, business was back to usual and Dominic found his way over to nudge into Maxim.
“What’s this favoritism?” He pointed out and nodded towards Timur by the coffee machine.
Maxim didn’t react, only cocking a brow in response. If no one had seen him tasting a crumb beforehand, then it just meant that Timur was lucky in terms of probability. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”