Characters: Dee, Ryo.
Setting: During the manga.
Summary: Ryo has been baking; surely he won’t notice if Dee has a little taster.
Written Using: The dw100 prompt ‘Crime Does Not Pay’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
A/N: Triple drabble and a half, 350 words.
Ryo had been baking all morning for Bikky’s birthday party that afternoon. Along with the sandwiches Dee had helped to prepare earlier, and the birthday cake Ryo had just put the finishing touches to, there were mini pizzas, several kinds of cookies, chocolate chip muffins, and little individual fruit pies. It was an impressive spread, enough to feed an army, or a dozen permanently hungry twelve-year-old boys.
With the food preparations completed, Ryo had vanished into the bathroom to shower and change before the guests started arriving. Not having been slaving in a hot kitchen, Dee didn’t need to freshen up, not that Ryo would have let him share anyway. One of these days he’d wear down his gorgeous partner’s resistance, but not today.
Finishing hanging the last of the party decorations, Dee looked around to see if there was anything else needing to be done, then realised he was all alone. With Ryo in the shower and Bikky in his bedroom, he could sneak into the kitchen and do a quick taste test on the freshly balked goodies. There was so much food surely even Ryo wouldn’t notice if one or two items went missing; after all the work he’d done, Dee figured he deserved a reward.
Now, what should he have? The cookies and cakes looked delicious, but what really drew his eye were the little pies. Dee loved pie of all kinds and these were still warm from the oven.
Snagging one, Dee bit into it and yelped. The crust might be nice and warm, but the inside was so hot it burnt, the sweet, gooey filling sticking to his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Pie in one hand, Dee grabbed a glass with the other and hurriedly filled it with water, gulping in down to soothe the pain. When he turned around, Ryo was standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest and a stern expression on his face.
“Serves you right for helping yourself. I would have thought as a cop you’d know that crime doesn’t pay.”
“I do now,” Dee mumbled.