Chapter Text
Shortly after graduation, Trey started his own bakery. It was located in Hightopp City in the Queendom of Roses, on a quiet little street named Garden Avenue. He proudly named it ‘Clovers.’
Ha ha, okay, fair. A bakery is not the first occupation that comes to mind for a graduate of the prestigious, Night Raven College, but Trey doesn’t really mind. His diploma is safe inside its cardboard sleeve, and tucked into a bookcase. His ceremonial robes hang unused in the back of his closet. His magestone pen is more often in his pocket than his hand, and even then, he’s usually just adding a hint of magic to his pastries. It’s a quiet life and a good one. Plenty of polite, well-behaved customers, and more than enough money to comfortably live on. He misses Riddle sometimes, but he understands why he hasn’t visited. They’re both busy.
Very busy.
It’s five AM, and a crisp, spring morning. Trey walks down the stairs from his apartment above the bakery, and lets himself into the kitchen through the back door. He flicks on the lights, pulls an apron over his head, and stretches with a satisfied sigh. Time to start finishing the pastries that have been rising since last night…
”Wheeeeere are theyyyyyyy?”
A familiar voice reverberates off the countertops and bare walls, making him jump a solid foot into the air.
“Chenya?!” He clutches at his chest with a long exhale. “Oh my god, don’t SCARE me like that.”
”Wheeeeeereeeeee~”
Chenya’s disembodied voice takes on a pleading tone, and a warm cheek rubs against his shoulder. “Pleeeeeease?”
A pair of disembodied hands tipped with glossy, purple fingernails appear in the air in front of him, cupped together in eager supplication.
“Chenya, you’re too early. I haven’t even MADE anything yet.” Trey picks up a spare apron and drops it into the floating hands with good-natured exasperation. “Here. You can give me a hand since you snuck in and scared the daylights out of me.”
“For one of your cinnamon rolls? Anything~” Chenya fully appears, standing in front of him with an enormous smile. “Good morning!”
He gives Trey a hug around the waist and then tosses the apron on, eagerly bouncing in place. Trey accepts the excitement with a good-natured eye roll, and a flustered grin.
“Come on now, they’re JUST cinnamon rolls. The recipe is about as basic as it gets. Go wash up,” he nudges his chaotic friend toward the sink.
“You don’t understand. I’ve been CRAVING your pastries from the moment I woke up this morning,” Chenya mourns, then glares down at the sink. “We meet again…”
He makes a face, neurotically curls up his fingers, and then flinchingly begins to wash his hands.
“Don’t skimp on the soap! I can use some help brushing tops.” Trey calls over his shoulder. He begins preheating his ovens, then pulls a carton of egg-whites, buttermilk, and butter out of the refrigerator. He pours each into a separate bowl and sets a few pastry brushes nearby. He needs to melt the butter…
“Okay…” Chenya makes a face and shakes off his hands with a spasmodic twitch. “Evil, evil water.”
“Don’t you dare lick your hands. It is not the same as washing, and I will make you wash them again,” Trey warns, rolling a proofing cabinet over to the counter to unload the trays of sweet rolls beside their respective surface finishes.
“I am aware,” Chenya mopes, then walks over with his hands held out in an awkward, unhappy splay. He shakes them with a shudder, then slips off his ring and tucks it into a pocket. “I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I skipped the line outside~”
"Egg white goes on the croissants and danishes… wait, a line ?" Trey pauses his unloading for a moment, looking back at Chenya. ”I have a line?!"
“You do! Last I looked there were about twenty people in it. I neglected to show them my personal shortcut, lest we become overcrowded.” Chenya cheerfully begins painting egg white onto a tray of croissants. “You didn’t start slipping addictive drugs into your batter, did you~?”
"What? No, don’t be ridiculous." Trey rubs the back of his head as a little spike of anxiety tightens his chest. If there’s already a line outside, then he needs to work faster. His cupcakes should be ready and cooled after baking last night, so he can start decorating...
“Ah, then it’s in this lovely substance!” Chenya gleefully holds up the pastry brush to let the egg white drip off of it in long, slimy strands. “That ensures it will be the first thing on the tongue. I approve~”
“No .” Trey snorts gently, setting a tray of cupcakes on an adjacent counter. “I spent all my money on vanilla from the Sunset Savanna, and a new mixer. There was no money left for addictive drugs.”
“A pity,” Chenya sighs.
“Shush.” Trey snorts. He begins squeezing chocolate ganache onto the cupcakes from a pastry bag, and then follows it up with a sprinkle of white and dark chocolate shavings. Across from him, Chenya moves the croissants into the oven, and then starts on the danishes. They work in amiable silence for a while, and Trey zones out, losing himself to the simple, but satisfying task. They’ve just about finished when his alarm beeps, warning them that it’s only half an hour to the eight AM opening time.
"Chenya can you start putting these in the display cases?" Trey sets the pastry bag aside to point out a dozen, freshly baked tarts. "And start some coffee?"
“Just medium and dark? You don’t do anything fancier, do you?” Chenya looks back at him from the cupboard, tail flicking back and forth in amiable little circles.
"Nothing fancier, unless a customer asks for an espresso. That one is easy to make quickly." Trey explains. He pulls out his magestone pen and casts a charm on the sprinkles, chopped nuts, and frosting to finish the decorating. That’s ten cakes, three dozen cupcakes, thirteen large tarts and plenty of small pastries. Hopefully that’s enough…
Chenya loads all the coffee makers, then picks up the tarts and walks out to the front with them. Through the open door, Trey can see him carefully loading the display cases, sorting them from left to right by some, unknown quality. Probably in order of the ones he likes most to the ones he likes least, if he had to guess. Oh well, the organization doesn’t really matter…
Chenya finishes that, then returns to the kitchen and eagerly peeks into the oven where the cinnamon rolls are still baking. “Are they done? IS IT TIME??”
"Yes, they should be ready. Let's get them out." Trey smiles, then gets his oven mitts, and opens the door. The sweet, comforting aroma of cinnamon and rich milk bread rolls out with a wave of steamy air. Trey inhales deeply and then exhales with a happy sigh. He always loves this part.
"I’ve got the icing ready. Help me get these onto cooling racks?"
Chenya cheerfully reaches in to take a baking tray with a bare hand.
“Augh! Treachery and betrayal!” He dances backward, shaking his burned hand. “I feel so silly, my apologies.”
"Chenya! Put it under cold water," Trey nudges him toward the sink and turns on the faucet. "Are you okay?"
“My pride is wounded. AGK-“ Chenya yanks his hand out from under the water with an affronted mewl and gingerly licks it instead. “I feel faint. I require… cinnamon. And sugar~”
He pulls out his own magestone pen and flicks it at the ovens. The trays of cinnamon rolls lift themselves into the air, and float smoothly onto their cooling racks. Trey closes up the ovens and gives Chenya a fond, but exasperated look.
"You'll be fine, especially if you let the cold water help, and not your tongue?”
“That monstrosity has already had its way with me ONCE today,” Chenya pins his ears back, glaring at the faucet in open distaste. “Not a chance.”
“Geez. Well, stay there then, and do NOT touch anything with the hand that you’re licking. I'll get your cinnamon roll as soon as I finish."
A little magic helps the rolls cool down, spread themselves with icing, and then pop themselves into decorative papers for sale. Finally, with only three minutes until opening time, the baking is complete, and Chenya has his oh-so-precious cinnamon roll.
"Well? How are the alms for the injured?" Trey sits down beside him to take a breather. Chenya makes a happy noise, and gently licks the steaming roll.
“It is… so hot~” Chenya blows on the pastry with a deliriously happy expression. “The heat, it slows my nibbling, though I wish to fully bite. Soon we shall unite, but until the manna cools, I endure. Sweet, sweet torture~”
He takes another tiny bite and rubs his cheeks with an enormous smile, purring ecstatically. His burned thumb and index finger are lightly wrapped in a purple, tie-dyed handkerchief, and don’t seem to be causing him any noticeable discomfort.
"You're ridiculous, but I'm glad that it wasn't as bad as it could have been." Trey snorts softly, then gets to his feet. “I’m going to go open up now. If you can, I’d love a hand with the customers once you’re finished.”
“Of course~” Chenya takes another sticky, blissful bite.
Trey shakes his head and heads out to unlock the door. Now that he’s at the storefront, he can absolutely see the line that Chenya mentioned before, and it is long . He takes a deep breath, then turns to look over at his display cases one last time. Cookies, cupcakes, cakes, tarts, bread loaves, rolls, coffee, and seasonal pies. All freshly baked and laid out on the display shelves with their prices marked up on the blackboard in green chalk.
He's as ready as he’ll ever be.
He turns the sign over to open, and unlocks the door.
It’s absolute mayhem for the first hour. Everyone is thrilled to be buying his pastries, and for some reason, the cupcakes in particular? He sells out of them almost immediately, and has to keep explaining over and over to disappointed customers that they’ve run out until tomorrow. It’s about noon when the rush finally slows, and thank goodness for that. Chenya has hung around, and is helping with small tasks around the shop floor, tidying up after customers and managing complaints. He’s not the most self-directed help, and Trey is absolutely lighter by a few more cinnamon rolls than he should be, but he’s better than nothing.
‘Wow that was a lot…’ Trey slumps as the last few customers trickle out, looking forlornly at his display case. He badly wanted to go bake another round of cupcakes, but then who would manage the front? As much as he hates to admit it... he needs help.
Taking advantage of the lull, he sneaks into the back and pulls out a sandwich made on freshly baked rye bread. After a moment, Chenya walks in with a stack of dirty coffee cups, humming softly to himself.
"Chenya... be honest. Should I get an employee?" He stares tiredly at the sandwich.
“Trey, my friend. The way I see it, there are two paths laid before you,” Chenya stacks the cups into the dishwasher. “On one path, you obtain help, and are able to cope with the increased workload of your wonderfully successful shop. On the other, I finish eating my fifth cinnamon roll of the day~” He holds up another pilfered cinnamon roll with such a deeply satisfied smile that he might be looking into the eyes of a lover. “And I watch you work yourself into a spiral of true madness from which there is no return.”
He takes a bite of the roll and closes his eyes, chewing the treat with a deep, rumbly purr.
“... Noted." Trey takes a bite of sandwich, then washes it down with his third cup of coffee for the day. "Also, you’re paying for the four cinnamon rolls you pilfered."
“The five~” Chenya corrects him agreeably.
“Wait, five? But you…?”
“Helloooo~! Trey-Trey? Anyone home?” Someone calls from the front of the shop.
"Huh? Now that's a familiar voice." Trey gets up from his chair and walks back out to the counter. "Hello! Is that who I think it is?”
“I dunno, who do you think it is?” Cater giggles and waves at him from the other side of the counter. “Wooooow, looks like I caught you in a lull huh? Your goodies are super picked over.”
There is only one cupcake left in the display case. Its top got heavily smeared when Trey accidentally dropped another cupcake on top of it, and despite the rush, no one had wanted to buy it.
"Cater! I’m sorry, but I gotta close up pretty soon. I didn't expect to sell out this fast. I got a lot of people all of sudden this morning. And cupcakes! All of them wanted cupcakes." Trey shakes his head with a sheepish smile. "I was literally just thinking about hiring an assistant just to keep up with demand."
“It’s no biggie~ I was mostly dropping by to catch up anyway. But hiring! That’s exciting. You put out any feelers yet? Gonna try and get someone local to the QOR?”
"Oh wow. I’m not sure,” he admits. “I haven't even put up a sign. Seven… I have to think about interviewing, and how I want to split up tasks, and hours, and how much I can afford to pay..."
Trey holds his head with a long sigh. He’s getting a headache just thinking about it, and he’s half convinced that this whole thing is one, bad hire away from becoming a giant mess. "Maybe I could double the amount I usually make instead? Agh, no, I’d still run out of time for decorating and finishes. When am I even going to find the time ?"
“Whoaaaaa, stress vibes,” Cater sympathises, lightly tugging at the hair behind his left ear. “You’re seriously running this place a hundred percent solo? Brutal. I know it’s kinda out of the blue, but I hit a hiatus in my own work. Could give you temporary hand, since we’re old buddies and all~”
"You want to work in a bakery? But you hate sweets. And I thought you were doing a social media travel blog?" Trey looks up at him tiredly. Aghhh, and he shouldn’t have unloaded on Cater, that was rude. Now he probably feels like he HAS to help…
“Nahhhh, that’s why I’m on hiatus,” Cater rubs the back of his head with a rueful smile. “I’m back in the QOR for a couple weeks for a break. And yeah, I don’t like sweets, but I know how to do basic prep stuff! You probably need someone to handle people and sales and tables anyway, yeah? That way YOU can do all the working with the sweeties.”
“You lack a sweet tooth? How on earth do you survive?” Chenya appears in the air above the cash register, lounging upside-down with his legs crossed. He gives Cater a curious look, licking cinnamon and sugar off his fingers.
“Just fine, thanks,” Cater gives him an annoyed smile. “Probably better than someone who eats half of what they make, just guessing~”
Trey snickers at the catty response, but the idea is sorely tempting. He likes Cater well enough, and if Chenya comes to help every now and then, he could even have time to finish his work and take a small break during the day.
"Alright, alright I'm convinced. But Cater you'd have to come in at six AM. We close at three PM, and I stay after to do prep. If that’s not a dealbreaker, then I'd be happy to have you. It'll be like old times.” He smiles. "And don’t worry about Chenya, he- Oh! That's right, have you guys met?”
“Not formally,” Chenya flips right-side up and drops to the floor, standing politely on his feet.
“Chenya this is Cater Diamond, and Cater this is Chenya. Or Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker, but just call him Chenya. Don't worry about him, he's paying for all the cinnamon rolls he ate."
“Ohhhhh, THIS is Chenya,” Cater smiles warmly. “Trey-Trey told me all about you sneaking over to Heartslabul to pester him and Riddle. Nice to finally see you in person.” He holds out a hand to shake, appears to remember that Chenya was just licking his hand halfway through, and then quickly turns it into a little wave.
“And you as well! I saw you painting roses once with that marvelous unique magic of yours. Very handy.” Chenya beams, then leans forward and continues in a stage whisper. “PLEASE do help Trey. He’s going to run himself ragged doing this work all on his own. He’s quite incredible, but not THAT incredible.”
“Yeah, he is,” Cater smiles back. “Besides, I’m hella jet lagged, so getting up at five is basically gonna be my MO for a couple weeks anyway. Might as well have some fun with a friend~”
"Hey now! I can hear you guys!" Trey looks away with an embarrassed smile. "As long as you’re sure that the early start is okay! I don't want you getting overloaded."
“Yeah, I’m sure~” Cater beams.
“Okay…” Trey tilts his head to one side to crack his neck, then gives his shoulders a little roll. "Okay. I‘m going to close up for today. I barely have anything left to sell, so I should get a head-start on prep."
“Awwww, bummer. You want me to start like. Now? I didn’t really have plans for later anyway.” Cater offers.
“Mmmmm, how generous~” Chenya opens up the till to pay for his cinnamon buns. giving Trey a pointed side-eye as he does. Coming from him, it’s the visual equivalent of screeching ‘ ACCEPT HIS HELP, DUMMY!!’
"Well... I..." Trey trails off, then shakes his head and gives Cater a rueful grin. "Yes. I would like that very much. If we can get tomorrow's prep all wrapped up, that will mean an easier morning."
“Awesome~” Cater beams. “What should I do first?”
It isn’t until Trey is locking up the bakery for the night that he realizes it was a little weird for Cater to just… jump in and help. Not that Trey isn’t very glad he did! But still… he didn’t negotiate a salary, or discuss hours, or perks, or anything. Chenya is one thing. His family is extremely wealthy, and Trey is pretty sure that they gave him a trust fund early on in his childhood. Also he’s CHENYA. Mischievous and thoroughly willing to play pranks, but ultimately he’s kind. He’s so kind that it’s almost a little scary. He literally just put in a decent day’s work for giggles, and unlimited access to cinnamon buns. THAT HE PAID FOR. A real employee would run him at least twelve madol an hour, plus perks like free lunches and leftovers to take home.
Cater, on the other hand, is not rich. He’s never willingly worked for free, and even then, he often had an ulterior motive, like taking pictures for his magicam feed, or avoiding Riddle’s ire. Does he have an angle here…?
Trey walks up the stairs to his apartment with an exhausted sigh. He’ll have to ask him in the morning. Twelve hours on his feet is a looooong time...