Page 47 of Baking Battles

SARA: Love you.

MATTIAS: See? You love me.

SARA: Fuck off.

Monday comes around too fast. Although Mattias can’t think of a better way to have spent the weekend, messing around in the kitchen with the enormous amount of ingredients they bought during their impromptu supermarket shop, having made Christopher brave both breakfast in a public cafe, where no one gave a rat’s arse about the two blokes devouring massive amounts of breakfast in the corner, and a short ride on a public bus, where Mattias held Christopher’s hand as Christopher hid his face in Mattias’s shoulder.

It didn’t help that Christopher’s naked torso was splashed all over the bus-stop advert, nor that his face was on the side of the bus. Andthatmade Christopher nervous, even Mattias could understand. It made Mattias pretty nervous too, but for a completely different reason. Because Mattias is jealous. Jealous that the world gets to see what only Mattias sees in the safety of their little kingdom. He loves the idea of the bed kingdom and Christopher is completely right. It’s a place of safety. A place where Mattias is learning to let go. A place where he can figure out all the little things he never realised that his body could do.

But then, he’s never met anyone like Christopher before. Someone who doesn’t care about the rules, well, apart from his own crazy rules about public transportation and such. He’s someone who orders two breakfasts and then a third, because he can’t make up his mind. Someone who chats to the waitress like they are old friends, when they are obviously not. And someone who hooks his booted feet around Mattias’s ankles without a care in the world, and then feeds him scrambled eggs across the table straight off the fork in his hand.

If he had been there with Emi, like he sometimes does at the weekend, it would have been fine. They have their little routine and sink into their own little bubble at their table. But with Christopher he had felt strangely exposed, and a little bit self-conscious. Yet Christopher had been surprisingly calm, as they chatted about work, and recipes and ideas for the show. He had been relaxed and happy, smiling and talking and picking up his phone every now and then to add something to his notes.

Even now at seven in the morning, sharing the space at the kitchen table with Christopher’s laptop, and Mattias’s paper notes spread out on the surface, he feels exposed. Christopher is loudly sipping the damn green tea that makes Mattias feel happy, in the weirdest way, as his own espresso sits untouched next to him on the table. He’s ridiculous, because he understands what is making him nervous. What is creating that cloud of anxiety in his chest. It’s all new. Being loved like this, and realising that he himself, is perhaps a tiny bit in love. Smitten. A little bit obsessed with this man across the table.

“You’re making caramel almond cups, and chocolate toffee. Keeping it nice and simple, but using quality ingredients to get the right flavour. Normal syrup should be fine, but we’ll find some high-quality cocoa to give it some extra strength. I will ask Isolde what brand she uses.”

“That’s cheating.”

Mattias is smiling. His cheeks actually ache from smiling this much.

“Nope. Not cheating. I am just asking, so I can make some epic toffees for my boyfriend.”

“Who is this boyfriend then?”

Mattias pretends to look offended, but his whole body gives him away. He’s Christopher’s boyfriend. They’ve talked about it. Not a long, strange, awkward conversation, they had just simply stated facts in the middle of an epic kissing session. Deciding that there is really no need to beat around the bush. They are together. Partners. And that Christopher now lives with him. In Oslo. And that he loves Mattias. Always has. Always will. Mattias had buried his blushing face in Christopher’s neck, too overcome with emotions to even contemplate whispering those words back.

“Youof course, you twat.” Christopher smiles. “I need a bowl of muesli. I’m starving.”

Christopher acts like he lives here, like he’s always lived here and now owns the place. Getting up and finding two bowls and taking the packet of cereal from the cupboard, where he has unpacked all the groceries they have bought into neatly organised rows. Mattias’s cupboards have never been this full, and it almost looks like this is a family home now. There’s even fruit in the bowl, and a packet of green tea by the sink. He doesn't know why, but seeing all the foods lined up in the fridge, makes him recall every little moment of their shopping trip on Saturday. The quick stolen kisses in empty aisles. Christopher telling stories of his nieces and nephews. Of their likes and dislikes. Of meals gone wrong and some disastrous attempt at making his own sugar-free healthy children’s granola that almost burnt Christopher’s sister’s flat down.

“Your gingerbread dough is okay.” Christopher continues, his head still in the fridge where he is supposed to get the milk, but instead he’spinching large blobs of gingerbread dough from the bowl that Mattias had covered in clingfilm, eating them with a smile on his face.

“Hands off the gingerbread dough.” Mattias quips. “And grab me some juice. That pink stuff in the bottle.”

“What are we having for dinner tonight?” Christopher asks as he pours dry, flaky muesli into two bowls, and generously covers it with milk.

“Emi eats at nursery before we pick her up, so she just needs some milk before bed. But maybe that cheese you bought and some biscuits.”

“Your dinner habits are shocking Mattias. That’s practically dessert. I’ll fry up some sausages and steam the vegetables, just broccoli, carrots and beans with a tiny bit of butter on top. Will that be okay?”

Mattias is already drooling. Yeah. Simple home-cooked food. He can live with that.

“And cheese for dessert.” He tries.

“My baby can have cheese for dessert.” Christopher leans over and kisses him as he places the bowls in front of them. One of those wet, dirty kisses that Christopher does so well. The kind of kisses that make Mattias’s body fire up. He shouldn't think of sex. Not now. Over breakfast, when he has so much to plan before work today.

Maybe pretty much forcing Christopher to fuck him twice more had been a bit too much, because Mattias’s arse is stinging with every movement, and his hips ache like he has spent the weekend running marathons. Which isn’t far from the truth. His face is blotchy with rash and his lips cut and swollen. He also thanks whoever is in charge up there in the sky, for winter, since there are some very suspicious marks on his arms and blotchy bruises on his neck, and his hip carries Christopher’s marks, all black and blue, down his side. He should be embarrassed about the state of his body. Instead every ache makes him proud. His body did that. He did that. Christopher did that to him because they had sex. Real sex. Good toe-curling head-splintering mind-blowing sex, where Mattias has made a mess in the bed, and they really need to change the sheets.

“We really need to change the sheets.” His mouth blurts out.

“We do.” Christopher winks. “Don’t worry. I will strip the bed before we go, and if you put some new sheets out, I can remake the bed because you need to sort out the stuff you are supposed to pack for today.”

“I just need bowls. I think I can find what I need in the prop cabinet, but I need those metallic paper cups for the caramels, and the red napkins.”

“Bring in the organic almonds, because I saw the packet they used the other day and they were nasty cheap things. You don’t want to risk the almonds being bitter. They should be smooth and creamy to the taste, to complement the caramel.”

“You sound like Isolde.” Mattias laughs.

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