A/N: Bakers! I'm sorry for updating a day late >< I updated Flight School recently too so I didn't have much time to complete this chapter. I'm planning to update Flight School again this week so I'm not too sure if I can finish the next chapter of BL on time ;-;  Wattpad has also approached me to talk about publishing the Baked Series so I might be busy with manuscripts and stuff. MIGHT, because it's not confirmed yet hehe. 

Thank you for reading! Enjoy the chapter and see you next week hehe. 

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[Xander]

I sort of regret telling Chip about Dempsey. He ended up brooding over the matter as soon as he left the dining table and I caught him trying to use olive oil to wash the dishes instead of dishwashing liquid. He wasn't even in the mood for the usual strawberry yoghurt or custard pudding that I got him on the way home.

"You okay, Chocolate Chip?" Giselle couldn't seem to grasp the untouched custard pudding sitting atop the counter. She was in the midst of finishing her chocolate one. "Do you need a...different flavour?"

"Aw," my husband gushed, kissing her forehead. "That's not it, Giselle. You don't have to worry about me. I-it's really nothing much."

Giselle nodded, finishing her pudding just as Chip was done with the dishes and I'd wiped the last one clean.

"Alright, time to brush your teeth and get to bed," I threw several looks her way apart from the cue and hint to leave us alone. She promptly turned around to stick her tongue out, going upstairs to get her brush set either way.

While Chip was accompanying my sister like he usually did (tucking her into bed and everything, pampering her like a princess because she absolutely loved that luxury), I returned to our bedroom to fill the tub and wait for him in the meantime.

"Oh! You're going in the tub today? No shower?" Chip noticed as soon as he came into the room, macaron pyjama set ready in one hand and towel in another.

I nodded, taking the towel from him and wrapping it around my husband to create a husband sushi roll. "And you're coming in with me."

"U-uwa—wha? Xan!" His voice was tiny and muffled. "I can't move!"

I lifted the sushi roll by his waist and transferred him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us.

"Angel, captured." I laughed, unwrapping the sushi roll to see a mildly indignant Angel with folded arms.

"Why'd I not hear anything about this," he eyed me, displeased and cute. "There were no plans!"

"What, do I need to tell you a week in advance that I want to take a bath with you?" I laughed, kissing him on the forehead before squeezing a load of Chip's favourite bubble bath mix under running water. "Come on."

"W-well!" He averted his gaze, ears burning red. "I...I don't know, maybe at least I'd be prepared."

I gave him a look. "Angel, it's just a bath. You don't have to prepare anything."

"I!" My husband paused, fidgety. "I could have...w-worn cuter undies or...or something," he said under his breath. I stared at him like he was the world's most dangerous human being, capable of causing heart attacks simply from how adorable he naturally was.

"Angel," I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing what I could to calm my dick. "I'm trying to keep myself controlled over here, and you're not exactly helping. It's just a bath...this time."

Chip raised his gaze, seemingly relieved. "O-oh! Oh. Phew. It just...it looked like you had a special occasion going on."

"No, I just wanted to let you talk about what's on your mind," I admitted honestly. "It took you a minute to realize that you were washing the dishes with olive oil instead of soap."

We undressed (my husband would still insist that we face opposite directions even though I practically know every inch of his body more than he does) and got into the bubble bath, talking about Dempsey whilst passing the soap bar.

"He's definitely not the type to get fired all of a sudden," reasoned Chip as he scooped a handful of bubbles. "He must be feeling terrible right now."

"It kinda has nothing to do with us," I pointed out bluntly, only to receive an adorable glare in return. "Okay, okay...how about we pop by, I don't know, after work or something. We could bring Giselle. She thinks the boy is amusing."

Chip laughed. "You mean Vanilla?"

"Yeah. That boy."

My husband leaned over all of a sudden, giving my dick a heart attack because that was just how illogical things worked whenever he was around. "See, you can be nice when you want to."

"Don't get your hopes up Angel," I laughed shortly, picking him up and placing him in my lap. "I just can't bear seeing you upset."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I was on my way home early from school—the volleyball kids rest on Wednesdays, so my evening's freed up—when I spotted religious psychopath getting into her car (she was several houses down ours) as I turned the bend into our lane. No one could've missed the pink polka-dotted dress that stood out against neutral-toned houses. No one.

I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, starting towards our house with a lowered head and keys ready in hand. Drive the other way drive the other way—fuck yes. Her car turned away from where I was and continued down the driveway, leaving me to rejoice in silence before the fucking red car fucking reversed.

Crossing two houses in a couple of seconds and just three away from home, Rachel pulled up beside me and rolled her window down.

"Xander! It's been a while," she was playing some tacky music on her car and I was not interested. I continued to walk.

"Could have been longer."

Rachel laughed. "Aw, come on. You're always teasing me like that," she had the gall to drive alongside me, following as I headed straight for the gate of my house. "Are you going somewhere? Need a ride?"

"No, I'm good."

"You're surprisingly shy when it comes to girls, huh."

I stopped in my tracks and turned to her with the most absurd expression, only to see the most ignorant and fucked up smile I've ever seen. Okay, not 'ever seen', I mean. Jaxon has it worse.

"You need to get a brain, Rachel. I...I honestly don't know what I'm talking to," I breathed, finding myself closer to giving up on the world every time I heard her speak. She was the kind of person who dished out seizures of stupidity to everyone she'd met.

"Xaander," the neighbour was fucking giggling and I was this close to reaching in and doing myself a favour by rolling her window back up. "You're always like that. Don't you think it's time to realize that we were meant to get to know each other? Meeting so often can't be a mere coincidence, dear. It's planned."

Yeah, by who—you? I laughed dryly, too lazy to speak my thoughts. Keys ready, I unlocked the gate as soon as I was within reach of the lock. "I was going to say that we could get to know each other better in the afterlife but I realized that we'd be going to different places, according to...whatever it is that you believe in," I commented sarcastically. Then, having noted the accidental mistake I'd made, corrected myself.

"On second thoughts, both of us belong down there, so. I guess we can get to know each other better in the afterlife."

I left her to digest that thought (which would probably take a long time), making sure to lock the gate behind and also conveniently calling Berry out of her dog house.

*

By the time I'd taken a quick shower and changed into another set of clothing, folded the laundry and taken out the trash, Rachel had (thankfully) disappeared from my front porch. I checked the time, remembering my husband's text from this morning to get a bouquet of flowers for Dempsey.

I'd responded then that flowers would be a weird gift because they seemed congratulatory more than anything else but Chip had sent the dangerous ';-; oh' in return. I added then that the nephew might like it. He cheered up.

Throwing Berry a couple of treats on the way out and telling her that I'd be back to walk her in the evening, I locked the door and headed for the bakery to pick Chip and Giselle.

It was on the way to the bus stop and as I was about to plug in my earphones that I spotted a passing truck—pastel pink with a huge poster promoting their new pineberry collection or something like that—with a familiar dessert printed along the sides. Unfortunately, I was only able to get a glimpse of it; everything else was a blur and initially, I'd assumed it was Hansel driving by with the bakery's truck on delivery duty.

Then I recalled that we never really had the funds to advertise on such a scale or even print posters (sticker posters, let alone) this big and paste them on a truck almost twice the size of the one we have for deliveries.

But if that wasn't Chip's bakery, then...who was it? And why the fuck does it look so similar to that new dessert he released just four days ago?

*

"Hey Angel," I said upon entering the bakery, forgetting that he'd recruited Shin from 3A as a part-timer and successfully turning him into a strawberry.

"X-Xa...Mr. Jax—I don't, I don't even know what to call you anymore," he finished in a whisper, glancing between Shin and I, covering his mouth slightly. Shin apologized, like he would on every other circumstance, before scrambling into the kitchen and mumbling something about having left the cupcakes in the oven.

"Xan!" Chip turned to me with an indignant expression. "Look, you scared Shin away."

"What did I do?" I defended, having merely called my husband by his rightful title. "I got the flowers like you told me to, but I never really had the eye for these kinds of stuff so...hope they're fine."

I showed him the bouquet that I'd picked out and he nodded in thanks.

"Well, if you don't really have the eye for flowers, does that mean I'll never receive them?" He teased, packing a couple of slices of cake and mochi waffles into a box.

I reached out to pinch his nose, making him squirm and sneeze.

"Don't try me, Angel. I know you're not into that kind of stuff," I smirked, flicking his forehead. He pouted.

"Aw."

"The key to baiting Chip Honeycutt: custard pudding and strawberry milkshake," I laid out knowingly, only to be disarmed by a husband who was getting better and better at beating me in my game.

"And Xander Jaxon!" He'd added, sheepish but victorious.

"Chocolate Chip, one. Xandie, negative hundred." Giselle stood by the doorframe, head popping out of the gap between the cabinet and saloon doors.

Chip laughed, calling her over and telling her to pack up. "We're going to see Vanilla! Do you remember him?"

"Lost boy scared of dogs?" She termed, looking to her right. "Is he lost again?"

I was about to tell her that lost boy was actually an accurate description of Vanilla despite him being one of the most intelligent kids I've ever met (even more intelligent than some of the high schoolers I've taught) when the bells above the entrance rang and Chip had to greet the person who'd entered.

"Welcome to Baked Love! Can I help with anything?"

The lady looked around, glancing at Giselle and I for a brief second. "Hi, um. I was just wondering if you got any of those, uh, pineberry things...? You have any of those left?"

"Ah, the ones outside on the poster?" Chip followed up with a smile, directing her to the display cabinet. "We don't have any pineberry pastries, but if you're alright with white strawberries—from Japan—we have one mini tart remaining."

"I'll have that," she nodded, seemingly relieved. "My daughter's been going on about these pineberry things, you see. Suddenly, they're everywhere! She told me to get them from some popular bakery, angel devil...cake, something like that but they'd already sold out so I tried to look for somewhere else that sells it. Tell me, is it a trend?"

I had to pause. At the corner of my eye, I saw a silhouette fidget behind the saloon doors. Most likely Shin.

"O-oh," my husband was not in the state to respond. He looked shattered. "I, um. I didn't know these were everywhere."

"Since, like, the day before yesterday they were," the customer produced her wallet, watching as Chip packed the last tart into a box. "I can't quite remember actually. It was very sudden. I've seen at least three bakeries adding something like that to the menu! Including this one, of course."

What? I was speechless. So that was why...that truck...who else?

"So...are they in season, or is it like a passing trend?" She went on, not exactly noticing the crestfallen shoulders of my husband or the heavy atmosphere. "I don't even know which one started it first."

"We definitely did," piped a voice from the kitchen. Shin. "I-I know we did. Sorry. For speaking out of turn. I, um. I just think...it was our original idea. It's ours." He shuffled into sight, embarrassed.

The customer laughed, handing Chip a twenty-dollar bill. "That's cute. Actually...well, I don't know about other people, but as much as I don't know which of it is the original one, I don't really mind not knowing!"

"All of them taste the same to me," she went on to admit, taking the box. "It's good for us customers, knowing that there are more places to get these desserts from. Thanks for your help dear. Have a good evening!"

The door closed after her, leaving the rest of the bakery in silence. I turned to Chip only to see disappointment written all over his face. He looked fairly shaken.

"Angel."

"The bakery that she mentioned," Shin looked up, raising his voice all of a sudden. "It's the new one, isn't it. The one in the next avenue—the...the one everyone's been going on about. I know about it. Brandon's sister, she...? But the lady said there was more than one..."

"Brandon?" I prompted him to continue. "What's he got to do with this? And yeah, she did say it was more than one. Fucking sex-shop bakery was one of them."

Chip shook his head, chewing on his lower lip. "I...we wouldn't know if it's the truth until we see it for ourselves, Xan. M-maybe it was just a coincidence. Miss Rachel wouldn't do something like that...I-I mean. It's not uncommon for bakeries to do that sort of thing but Miss Rachel is very well-established already. She wouldn't need to look for ideas elsewhere."

"Then she's just making it look like we're the ones copying her," I laid out in an instant, anger and disgust rising to a boil.

"Mr. Jaxon's right, sir. Most customers wouldn't think that popular chains like that...that other bakery would steal the idea of a smaller one. People are more likely to suspect the other way round," voiced Shin worriedly. "What should we do?"

"There's nothing to worry about, Shin," I could tell that Chip was trying his best to remain calm. "The lady said that it was a 'pineberry' collection, remember? Pineberries look and taste very different from the white strawberries that we use. Furthermore, they're imported from Japan and are s-specially...specially..."

My husband was trying hard not to cry.

Giselle went up to him and opened her arms to offer a hug, to which he accepted and squeezed her tightly. Shin looked equally upset.

Whipping out my phone, I texted Shea regarding the situation and asked if she could look into it before getting back to me. Then, I asked my husband if he wanted to return home for the day.

"N-no, let's...let's go over to Mr. Dempsey's. He must still be very upset about yesterday," said the fUckiNG Angel with a heart that housed every inch of kindness in the world. He was wiping away his own tears whilst thinking about the sorrow of someone else. God, he's too perfect.

"Angel," I went up to him, kissing his forehead. I saw Shin jump a foot into the air at the corner of my eye. "You're tired and upset. Don't you need some time to—"

"It's okay, Xan," he sniffed, looking up at me with a smile. "I'm alright. Maybe doing something would make me feel better instead of, w-well...going home and brooding over it."

I sighed, giving in to his request but pulling him into my chest to give him a quick squeeze as punishment. "You're too fucking nice. Always making my job as your bodyguard the toughest one in the universe, huh."

"Hehe," he said into my chest, snuggling closer.

*

We decided to flag a cab instead of taking the bus after packing up, since the former would cut down travelling time to less than fifteen minutes and reduce the possibility of Chip overthinking during that duration. Along the way, my tiny and tired husband had fallen asleep on my shoulder in less than a minute after we got into the cab (he seriously pushes himself way too much) and Giselle had taken to looking outside the window, singing to herself.

And because I simply couldn't keep my mind off the matter bothering Chip, I searched up ARCD's hashtag on Instagram.

Fuck. The customer was right. I scrolled through row after row of pineberry cakes, pastries, weirdly-shaped things that looked like dumb swirls to me, crumble shit, teenaged girls posing outside the stupid pink store with more dumb swirls—you get the idea.

Sliced up, the pineberries didn't look very different from the ones Chip uses in the bakery. They seemed overall smaller and rounder, sometimes tinged green apart from being white and pink but because I didn't know how, exactly, they tasted like, there were little clues to differentiating the two.

No doubt, any regular teenager or casual customer would think they were the same. Even I would've thought them similar to a certain extent; being an amateur in the field.

I turned to my husband who was breathing quietly on my shoulder, watching his chest rise and fall. Stealing the ideas of another pastry chef...Chip would never do such a thing. Yet, when it came to taking those of his own, it seemed quite as though they'd done it in a heartbeat. And to think that it was common among bakeries and pastry shops alike.

I never knew there was so much politics in an industry so literally sweet. As always, I had a newfound respect (already at what I thought was the limit) for the angel on my shoulder.

Soon enough, the cab pulled to a stop outside Dempsey's place and it was, unfortunately, time to wake my husband. I regretted it the moment I did; watching him rub his eyes and gaze blankly outside the window before registering where we were. Maybe I should have considered carrying him bridal style—would've given Dempsey quite the surprise gift. Haha.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Rachel]

I checked the time. Half-past five. According to yesterday's phone call and arrangements, she should have done it by now. Yet, anxious as I was and not wishing to take any risks in maintaining the reputation I'd painstakingly created for my brand, I decided to give my friend a call.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I scrolled through my contacts and tapped her name, waiting for the line to connect as I clicked the seat belt in place. I started as soon as the ringing had stopped.

"Hey, so. About the thing I told you yesterday—"

"Don't worry dear," I heard her say over the line, calm and collected as usual. "It's all handled. The critic's not going to write a thing about you."

"But what about social media?" I couldn't help but voice my entire list of concerns. "What if he writes something somewhere else and people find out about it?"

"I told you—you've got nothing to worry about. He doesn't have a twitter account or a blog. He has barely any followers or friends on Facebook," she reassured once more, ensuring that my worries were addressed. I was immensely relieved. "There is no way he can reach as big an audience as his readers on the Times. You're okay."

"Thank goodness." Looks like I truly am blessed. Praise the Lord; every obstacle and test of faith was part of His larger plan. "I was so worried. Is everything okay on your end?"

"It was an easy task," I heard her laugh on the other end, light-hearted.

"Thank you for helping me." Relieved, I put on some music and began to drive out of the parking spot. "I don't even know why you would, Trudy. You're too kind."

"I just want you to be happy," my best friend of high school 'aw'ed. "You're this close to your dream!"

I let slip a smile, unable to hide the rising mirth stirring in my chest. Everything was going exactly as it should and it felt like part of a bigger plan—arranged.

"I know," I told her in return. "I truly am blessed to have a friend like you."