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Who the fuck is baking lemon cake at three in the morning? Diaz, that's who. It was no wonder why Muertoz couldn't get back to sleep, and kind of strange how no one else had woken up. Was Diaz just that quiet? How long had he even been doing this for? Why was he doing this?
"Diaz, you know there's still a slice in the fridge." Muertoz said, taking a seat at the counter, watching his brother carefully pour in the batter into the tin. He was practically done by now and it just needed to cook; if he stopped now, it'd be a complete waste. "You don't need to do all this."
"Well it's your slice. Could I really have eaten it?" Diaz responded, almost dropping the bowl from being half tired.
"Yes, you could've. You've eaten plenty of my stuff without even asking before." Muertoz sighed. He usually had a slice of lemon cake left for himself that'd get eaten by Diaz, who wasn't good at hiding the fact he did, at least for long. "It's late. You go to bed, I'll finish the cake--"
"I've already gotten this far . Let me do it. You go back to bed, old man." Diaz put the cake in the oven, and sat opposite from Muertoz, with an annoying-ass smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing with that nickname, from the eye twitch, to Muer's teeth gritting.
Truthfully, Muertoz wasn't fuming , moreso annoyed at the constant remarks about his age. "If I'm an old man, wouldn't that make you one as well? We're the same age, dipshit."
"Yeah~ but you're still older." Diaz retorted. "Besides; I have a 'youthful charm' that you don't, so you're way more deserving of the title than I am, grandpa ."
Ohh, that little shit. "Just stick to old man, for the love of Allhail..." Being called grandpa made Muertoz feel even older than the old man did.
Diaz chuckled, quickly covering his mouth to make sure he didn't make too much noise. "Oh, alright. It's still funnier ."
" Still don't. " Muertoz rubbed his temples, still in annoyance. Things went quiet for a moment, neither sibling leaving because they both had reason to be there; Diaz still needed to watch the cake, and Muertoz felt the need to watch him , and made sure he got back to bed the minute it was done. They only wanted what was best for Diaz; sleeping in was bad enough, but getting punished was worse. Horrible on the back. What kind of punishment even is being used as a chair? Who the fuck decided that was a good idea?
Sometimes, he cared too much. Muertoz has a habit of that. Aside from Phasaphia, he was the only one in the con with a functioning brain cell, and felt like he had to care for everyone or else the place would be up in flames. He obviously cared the most about Diaz; they were literally siblings , but for years he barely let Diaz be independent. Muertoz done practically everything for him, even small things such as chores (of which Diaz mostly talked him into, thinking about it), because he didn't want his "baby brother" stressing himself over those things.
Protectiveness aside, he'd do anything to make Diaz happy. He remembered back to when they were still teenagers, and Diaz mentioned he craved lemon cake. He'd spent weeks since then trying to perfect the recipe. He admits, he might've gone slightly overboard, but anything for his little brother.
Thinking about it more, his mind wandered back to one of those recipes, and his decision to settle with honey more specifically. They swore up and down that honey and vanilla extract were the secret ingredients. His attempt with the vanilla extract was... disastrous , to say the least. Delosa had been furious. He's stuck to honey since, which sucks because good quality ones were expensive . His wallet had been crying for days.
Actually, how was Diaz making this? There wasn't a phone or recipe book in sight, just dirty dishes, and dirty countertops. He wasn't just winging it, right?? Although that made more sense, Muertoz dread to think of the results.
"... Why are you looking at me like that?" Diaz asked, exasperated. Muertoz was glaring at him, which he didn't even realise.
"You're not just putting in random things, are you?" He'd question.
Diaz scoffed, " Of course not! That's… stupid ." Maybe they were imagining things, but he sounded hurt from the accusation.
Muertoz would try to shake off the guilty feeling. "Well, I don't see a recipe book anywhere,"
Diaz clicked his tongue. "I don't need one. I've listened to enough of your rants to know how to make one, so I've practically memorised the recipe by now."
That wasn't what he was expecting, but he still thought Diaz was an idiot for going in without a proper, written recipe.
"Alright, then what did you add in?"
Diaz went quiet for a moment, trying to recollect everything he'd put in the bowl. "Uhh… flour, eggs, baking powder, honey… and of course, lemons, but… uhhh–" There was probably more but it was entirely slipping his mind. Probably too tired to think.
"Okay, how much honey did you add?" Muertoz knew that the amount of honey had to be precise . And if Diaz just eyeballed it then it'd likely be a gross mess.
"I eyeballed it…?" He done the one thing that could fuck up a cake. Eyeballing it!! Eyeballing it!!!! Muertoz couldn't even see any measuring cups, just a bottle of almost empty honey. So not only did he not measure it, but he wasted a shit ton of honey, and Muer was losing it .
"That's– you're not–" They couldn't even think of what to say .
"Okay, maybe that was stupid, but we haven't tried it yet." Diaz said, trying to ease his brother.
Muer shifted his glare to the still baking cake. He of all people knows why not using proper measurements in baking was a terrible mistake…
Proper measurements are everything in baking. He himself went through many cookbooks to find one with the perfect ratio of ingredients. Muertoz kept experimenting, trying to make the perfect lemon cake recipe. He first decided to get home grown lemons rather than store bought, but he could only get (most) other ingredients from the store, which he'd also have to save up for, so he used them sparingly. Next was to overly analyse each recipe - what was different about each one, or what was the same; what could he add or take to change it. The cake couldn't rely on only flavour or texture; both had to be good for it to be perfect .
And watching him was Diaz, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway. He didn't want to bother Muertoz by any means, and he couldn't be that stressed from messing up a literal recipe over and over. That would just be silly, wouldn't it? Every time he tried to help, Muertoz shoved him away, saying he shouldn't bother; he wouldn't be much help, and they'd be wasting his time. But, Muer being preoccupied with his baking meant Diaz could do what he wanted without being scolded for its "idiocy," or Muer doing it for him instead. Still, he was concerned over how Muer spent literal hours in the kitchen, doing nothing but baking; he seriously needed a break by now, good god .
"Muer, are you done yet? You've been here for..." Diaz's eyes trailed off to look at the clock, realising just how late it was by now. "Almost five hours now, I'm pretty sure." How their parents allowed him to have the kitchen to himself for that long he didn't know, but what he did know was that he needed a break. On the counter next to Muertoz were two cakes, which had likely been baked at the same time, just with different ingredient ratios. They both had a slice taken out of them to taste test, but they obviously weren't to his liking, hence the third one in the oven.
"This stuff takes time. Just a bit longer..." Muertoz was still locked on the book, occasionally glancing over at all the notes he'd been taking, and scribbling something down.
Diaz frowned at his response, still very much concerned. "Don't your wrists hurt from all that stirring and writing and-- whatever else you do? No pain at all anywhere? You're even going grey ! At fifteen!!"
"Yes, but I'm choosing to ignore it." Muertoz said, now shifting his attention over to the two cakes, using a knife to cut a slice of each and placing them down on the countertop closer to Diaz. "Try them and tell me what you think." He bluntly requested.
"I-- sure, fine. If it'll get you to stop faster." Diaz decided on the right one first. The two looked basically identical, but he took a bite anyway. He'd actually tried many of Muer's attempts in the past, and they were hit or miss, but most tasted just average , like this one. A bit more on the lemony side, but average. And to Diaz, average was acceptable. "It's... not horrible?" He didn't know what criticisms to actually give. He could bake simple things, but he knew Muertoz wanted something more complex than a box recipe. Although he'd yet to try the other slice, shoving it in his mouth expecting the same result--
"Dude. I know it's called a lemon cake, but there's such a thing as too much lemon, you know?" The amount of lemon was a bit overwhelming, mixed with some strange aftertaste. This was probably one of the worst attempts; save for the first one that tasted like literal vomit .
Muertoz gave only a grunt in response, and scribbled another thing down on his notepad. " What about the honey ..."
"The huh?" Diaz didn't quite hear him, too distracted by the sourness to listen.
"The honey. It's giving it a strange aftertaste. Am I adding too much? But if I add too little, it's like it's not even there ."
Oh, so that's what that was. "Uhh, just fuck around and find out? I don't know?? Maybe add a bit less, I guess. How much did you even add?"
"Four tablespoons. I couldn't find any measuring cups so I had to eyeball it, but thinking about it, that's... too much." Muertoz sighed, "Maybe three next time."
"... And what about that one?" Diaz pointed at the oven, which still had a cake in it.
" Shit ." Muertoz rushed to the oven, hurrying on their oven gloves before taking out the cake. Luckily, it didn't seem too overbaked, but if Diaz hadn't pointed it out it likely would've. "I only added two and a half tablespoons to this one, but it still doesn't feel like enough."
Once it cooled, it tasted again , alright, much better than the first. The lemon wasn't overpowering at all, almost just right, and there wasn't a gross aftertaste; just a hint of sweetness. "I think it needs a bit more honey, but the lemon is actually good."
Muertoz seemed actually happy with these results, Diaz swearing he saw him smile for a moment, writing down the final notes for the day. "Then, I'll fix it tomorrow."
"Fucking finally ." Diaz couldn't help but sigh in relief. He truly was starting to worry about Muer's wellbeing, because he'd been at this for several days - spending hours in the kitchen with a strained look on his face. "Maybe take a break for a couple days instead. Is baking the "perfect" lemon cake really that important?"
Muertoz started taking his hair down, always making sure to tie it up before cooking. Hair certainly didn't improve a cake's flavour, or texture for that matter. "If you really must know, it's for you."
" 'Scuse me?"
"I remember when I first made you lemon cake. It wasn't anything special, but I remember your reaction; you were so happy -- overjoyed, even. I want to see you smile like that again, but feeding you the same bland recipe wouldn't do the trick, would it?" Muertoz explained. He was definitely smiling now, thinking fondly about it. He'd only just started baking then and had a left over box of lemon cake mix, which Diaz ended up taking a liking to.
"That's..." It took a moment for Diaz to respond. For him ? Muer cared a lot about him, but this was just sweet , in the best way he could describe it. "I appreciate it, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard. You said it yourself; you're literally ignoring your own pain."
"I know, but that's probably what any baker would have to do if they want to get somewhere." Muertoz shrugged.
Diaz practically ran up to him, and put him in a playful headlock. "But you're not going to be a proper baker, are you? So you don't need to do... all this. I don't even mind if you kept on with that box mix stuff, it was still good."
Muer scowls, trying to shove Diaz off. If anything, it just made him cling tighter. "Off, dumbass," Muer said, rolling his eyes. "And go to sleep so I can clean up,"
"And he's back," Diaz said, chuckling. "I'll help clean up-"
"What? No! Go to bed-"
"Nu uh," Diaz picked up a dirty mixing bowl. "We'll finish faster this way,"
"Diaz no-"
"Diaz yes ,"
Their argument got so loud it woke Delosa up, which led to both of them getting a lecture. At Least Diaz got what he wanted, since he was made to help clean up, though he didn't look too happy about it
Muertoz had gotten himself lost in thought. After all, the cake wasn't baked in a matter of seconds; it needed time , which was about forty-five minutes, but it also needed to cool... which he'd been zoned out for long enough for that to have happened. Did Diaz not even bother to snap him out of it? Not even once ? Now before him was a freshly baked slice of lemon cake, with a fork to the side of it.
"So... what do you think...?" Diaz tried to study Muertoz's expression closely as they ate. He wanted to make sure they were being honest about it. He wanted to see any little changes; whether he frowned, or even smiled a little, to see if he'd gotten it right or should change the recipe in some way.
Truthfully, it tasted too sour. He added more lemon than sugar, and the cake was slightly overcooked, with a faint aftertaste of honey. It tasted like one of his earliest attempts, where he'd ranted to Diaz about it. He never had to listen to Muer's ranting, in fact, Muer thought he wasn't listening. But he did. And Diaz tried his best to replicate one of his own recipes, neglecting to even sleep because of it - which he'd have to address later, but for now, Muertoz still needed to give him an answer.
"... It's good." Muertoz eventually answered, trying to fight the lump in his throat. He didn't want to upset Diaz, at least so late at night, so maybe he could play up a lie for now.
" Is it? " Diaz raised a brow, noticing how Muertoz's expression did change. When he'd taken the bite, his brows furrowed slightly, and he seemed hesitant to swallow.
"I'm certain." Muertoz kept going with the lie, putting another chunk in his mouth to see if that'd prove his point. The only thing going for it was how familiar the taste was; it had been ages since he'd tried it, but it tasted almost exactly like one he'd made in the past. "Now that's done, will you go to bed already?"
"Not until you've told the truth. Your face showed me otherwise." Diaz persisted, a bit of cake in his mouth, pointing his fork at Muer.
"Wh-- Diaz, it's almost four in the morning. We don't have time to mess around with this." Muertoz groaned. If Diaz wasn't going back to bed, he was. It'd be his fault if he sleeps in then, and his punishment to go through.
"I want you to be honest with me, Muer. Is it really good? Or is there something wrong with it?"
By now, Muertoz had gotten up, and had his back turned. He really didn't want to say anything, but Diaz was a grown man , he could take constructive criticism. "You added too much lemon, and too much honey. Cut down on both, and make sure to add some more sugar, but not too much. And take it out of the oven earlier."
" Thank you . That's all you had to say." Next problem was sleep. Diaz yawned, going to leave, before feeling a tap on his shoulder.
"You still have to clean up." Muertoz said, gesturing to the plates with half eaten cake slices on them, along with the empty mixing bowl, tin, and some ingredients still left out.
"I thought you wanted me to go to sleep." Diaz huffed, begrudgingly walking back over to clean up.
"I do , but if Phasaphia sees all this--"
"Oh, right. Because your girlfriend will sit on me if I don't."
"I already told you, it's not like that ," Muer muttered, turning around to hide the flush on his cheeks. "Look, there's a lot, so I'll help." He decided to quickly change the subject back to the dishes, going to run some water in the sink.
Diaz shrugged it off. He could always tease Muer about his crush tomorrow, but the dishes came first to save his ass from becoming a chair. Reaper punishments were weird .