Check Please, Star Baker and Other Disasters

Title: Star Baker and Other Disasters [Jack/Bittle]
Rating/Warnings: G
Summary: There’s no way Bittle spend the whole day alone in Jack’s house without baking something, right?
AN: Written for Shiritori. Well this is an embarrassing first fic for Check Please but all I’ve done for two solid weeks is watch episodes of The Great British Bake-Off so this is what you’re getting.

Star Baker and Other Disasters

Even a dream job could be tiring, and on the way home from practice Jack Zimmerman was looking forward to nothing more complicated than sweatpants, dinner, and a quiet night at home with his boyfriend who was visiting during Samwell’s spring break.

Plus whatever Bittle had spent the day baking. Because there was no way he’d spent the entire day in Jack’s townhouse without baking at least fourteen things, right?

Instead, Jack found the kitchen dark, and a boyfriend in much the same position as he’d left him, sprawled out over the couch in pajama pants and a borrowed Falconer’s hoodie, season five of The Great British Bake-Off blaring on the television.

“Bits,” Jack crossed his arms, looming over the back of the couch, “we talked about this.”

“Don’t you shame me, Jack Zimmerman!” Bittle exclaimed.

Jack had to bite down on a smile to keep looking stern, because Bittle was insanely adorable with his hair sticking up in all directions from being smushed against couch cushions for hours. “We made a rule. You agreed to the rule. Only two a day so you don’t get ideas.”

“It was European Cake week!” Bittle protested. “They were making Prinsesstarta! Your TV has such good definition I could see the grain on the marzipan!”

“Give me that remote right now,” Jack ordered, and when Bittle refused, curling up on his side protectively around it, Jack did the only logical thing and threw himself over the back of the couch to land heavily on Bittle. Haus rules said that anybody taking up the whole couch at once was asking for it anyway.

“No, wait, come on!” Bittle wriggled, whining, as Jack slipped one hand under the hoodie to tickle Bittle into submission, the other hand rooting around for the remote under Bittle’s body. “They’re on the Showstopper! Chetna’s making caramel buttercream!”

Jack finally lost it, snorting laughter into Bittle’s collarbone. “You’ve watched this season three times! Even I know who wins!”

“Not the point,” Bittle said sulkily around a mouthful of Jack’s hair.

“I can’t believe I left you here all day alone and you didn’t bake me anything.” Jack shifted position to be slightly more comfortable, less of his weight crushing Bittle into the couch. He didn’t take his hand out from under Bittle’s hoodie, though, palm warm splayed across Bittle’s stomach. “Is this your way of telling me the romance is gone?”

“I’m on spring break!” Bittle announced, curling one arm around Jack’s neck to work fingers into his hair, still damp from his post-practice shower. “C’mon, watch the end of this one with me? One eensy weensy Showstopper never hurt anybody.”

“Then we’re getting up to make dinner,” Jack warned, turning his head to see, cheek pillowed over Bittle’s heartbeat.

“Scout’s honor,” Bittle promised, eyes already back on the screen. “Soon as this one’s over.”

Two episodes later they gave up and ordered a pizza, Jack struggling to listen to the girl on the phone while Bittle protested loudly that he could make a better baklava in his sleep.

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