Work Text:
Gustavo looked down to his basket, already full of the groceries he needed for the week. And yet, for some reason, he found himself stuck in the store’s bakery section.
In fact, he found himself wandering through it. Browsing it.
Maybe he just needed the extra time, walking a bit longer to help his mind sit in largely unworried life as a citizen.
However, he absolutely did not need to get anything from here.
He did not need any of the donuts sitting framed in their glass case, nor did he need a plastic box full of cookies. No turnovers, no strudels, or croissants. Most of it was stale at this point in the day anyways.
But he kept walking. There was no harm in that.
There was no harm in enjoying the hum of the store. The customers were much more sparse at this hour, but present. Just beyond the closest aisle he could hear the isolated conversation of a small family. One, two, three voices. An adult and two children. The children asked for a treat as the adult chided about the lateness of the day. It was endearing. So unconcerned despite the exasperation—and the sense of desperation from the kids.
His feet had stopped in front of a small display.
Little squares of cake. Carrot cake, red velvet, chocolate cake.
Very thick, decadent chocolate cake.
It looked—No. He tore his eyes away, landing instead on the nearby dairy aisle. He should not entertain the thought.
But his mouth still watered.
It was of poor quality. He knew that. If he truly wanted something sweet, he should stop by a real bakery.
Making another stop felt like a chore, though.
So his eyes dragged guiltily back to the square of chocolate cake.
He didn’t stop himself from reaching for it. He just looked away as he set it in his basket.
Just this once.
He turned away from the bakery, heading to the dairy aisle.
If he was going to enjoy this, he was going to do it right. He hadn’t had something so packed full of sugar in so long; it alone might be too much.
A single quarter gallon of milk would be more than enough to help him.
He avoided acknowledging the cake as he set it in the basket.
Now his shopping was finished.
The checkout was over and done with in no time, even with only one line open, and soon he was outside with the cool night air biting his nose. His breath puffed out in front of him. Luckily he hadn’t parked far.
Heat rushed past him, cold following him as he entered his house. He closed the door.
It was dead, silent, and dark versus the store. He clicked the lights on one by one as he made his way to the kitchen.
He glanced down to his bags, heaving them onto the counter. The cake sat at the top.
He should put everything away first.
Each item had sweet time dedicated to it. The back of his mind itched as the rest took satisfaction in his restraint. The cake sat almost completely ignored the entire time. Almost. He paid no mind to the growing agony of denying himself something he had already decided to allow.
There was not an infinite amount of groceries to put away, however.
Eventually there was only the cake.
He stood there, dragging his eyes from it to the empty bags of the groceries.
Disposing of those came first.
Every step of the way in doing so was measured. Five steps there, five steps back. A single turn.
Then he was face to face with the box again.
He should make dinner first.
The cake, however, held his gaze hostage.
He sighed, relenting.
He at least needed to change first.
He hurried to his room, a bit more energy eating at his spine, slipping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, taking a moment to neatly fold each. He filed through his clothes. Even inside it was cool enough to warrant more than his undershirt.
His fingers landed on a dark, thicker sweater with a pliant texture. Perfect.
He could have the cake now.
It sat spotlighted under the warm overhead lights of his kitchen.
He poured a glass of milk and grabbed a fork, popping the plastic case open.
Finally, he took a bite.
Oh.
He pressed his tongue to the top of his mouth as he pulled the fork away.
It really, truly was bad. There was hardly any real cacao, just the vague insinuation of chocolate among dry cake mix and heaps of sugar.
He couldn’t help but delight in it.
It still coated his tongue, melting on it, sweetness assaulting his mouth in a way he hadn’t felt in so long. Yes, it had a staleness to it, since it likely sat on display for quite some time, but he didn’t care as he washed its flavor down with cold, creamy milk.
Both flavors and textures urged a soft sound of satisfaction out of him.
His muscles, from his neck to his lower back, released, their tenseness dispersing through the surrounding area with gentle gratification. He leaned his weight ever so slightly against the counter as he took another bite.
He used to share these things once.
A smile crept onto his face as if the thought wasn’t melancholic. As if it was shared again.
With the third bite, the reality of not sharing this fell on him with an ache. Though it was one square, this was so much for only him.
He had hardly eaten half of it, and truthfully he should not eat it all at this moment.
But he took a fourth bite, and as the sweetness filled his mouth, and the relieving milk followed, he decided he could have this. For himself.
It would only get more stale if he saved it, after all.