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Hubris was a common trope of Greek mythology. The folly of man was indeed his hubris. His excess pride of arrogance, a determination to prove he knew best, could handle anything and the inevitable failure. Icarus and the sun, Achilles and his heel and now Rafael could add himself to the list.
Rafael Barba and the two trays of freshly baked brownies he had devoured. Single-handed.
Rafael winced as he curled up into a smaller ball on the couch. His stomach was killing him and he knew any sudden movement could trigger the brownies to return back up his throat. As delicious as they had been, they would not be as wonderful if they made a return trip upwards.
He truly hadn’t meant to eat all of them.
He’d just wanted one to go with his afternoon coffee as he completed some paperwork. However the brownies were fresh out of the oven, still warm and had pieces of chocolate still melting inside them. Sonny had also slipped out of the apartment and hadn't said that he couldn't take more than one.
So he’d had another.
And another.
And another.
Then he’d had to check the second tray was as good as the first and so he ate more and more and more.
Now his stomach hurt, his pants, despite the elasticated waist, were digging into his hips and yet, regardless of the discomfort and pain; he was proud of himself. He’d eaten two entire trays of brownies in one sitting; that sort of metabolism and resilience didn’t tend to exist after the early twenties. If the only consequence of his actions was a tummy ache, he was doing alright. He hadn't thrown up. Yet. However if he moved even an inch in the next few hours, that could change.
Rafael stifled a burp as the door unlocked and Sonny stepped into the apartment. “Babe? Are you- seriously?”
Sonny stared at the huddled mass on the couch which had been his fully upright and functioning boyfriend when he had left the apartment to get some more flour. He’d woken up this morning wanting to bake and had decided to indulge his impulses.
Clearly he had not been the only one.
There were streaks of chocolate on Rafael’s cheek, crumbs on his shirt and of course, the two empty trays on the coffee table in front of him. It was admittedly impressive but nevertheless annoying. Sonny hadn’t even managed to have one of the brownies that he had made.
“Do we have any pepto?” Rafael asked quietly as Sonny carried the grocery bag to the kitchen.
“No, you’ll have to get some more. I’m not going to the store for you.” Sonny replied as he picked up the mop bucket and brought it back to the couch to set on the floor by Rafael. Rafael looked at him pityingly but Sonny was unmoved, even by his teary green eyes.
“Why?” Rafael asked sorrowfully. He could barely sit upright, much less stand. Walking, even across the room, was unthinkable.
He thought Sonny loved him.
How could he be so cruel?
“You did this to yourself.” Sonny retorted. “You could have had one or two, maybe even three. But literally every single one?”
“They were really good.” Rafael offered and Sonny rolled his eyes. It was a good thing that they were a cop and a lawyer. It meant that the brownies were simply brownies. There was no special, additional ingredient which would have either had Rafael higher than the Moon or in an ambulance to the emergency room. One of his friends in college had made that mistake and overdid the weed brownies; the paranoid trip had been enough to deter the rest of their friends for life.
“Well, I wouldn’t know because you ate them all.” Sonny quipped as Rafael’s lip quivered. Clearly the remorse at being a glutton and a selfish one at that was beginning to kick in. However Sonny wasn’t going to back down. Once Rafael knew that he could cave at the sight of his big, tearful green eyes, it would be his go to for any and everything that happened afterwards.
Sonny imagined this was what parenting is like and silently offered a sainthood for both his mother and father for raising the four of them.
“I’m sorry,” Rafael apologised as Sonny shook his head.
“It’s fine, I can make some more.” Sonny replied as Rafael’s face paled and his hands tightened around his stomach at the mere thought. “Bucket’s there if you need it.”
As he headed towards the kitchen, he could hear Rafael groan out the fateful, empty promise that was as hollow as whenever it was spoken into a toilet bowl in reference to various alcoholic beverages.
“I am never eating that much again.”
They both knew he would. That had been why Sonny had baked two batches of brownies in the first place.
Perhaps next time he’d need to bake three. Then again, Rafael could potentially see that as a chance to break his record.
Or maybe, just maybe, he’d learn his lesson.
But probably not.