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Of all the things to find on his doorstep, this is the last thing he'd expect. Honestly, he was surprised that meat head knew how to read an address. He didn't know what could've prompted this, it'd been a few days since they'd last seen each other. That was rare, given how up his ass the Grinder's commander was. Those fools must have more free time on their hands without House Lactose to keep them busy, because sitting in front of him was a small box, stuffed with a small cake.
That was... bizzare, to say the least. Black Pudding had never sent him anything before, he'd never been so brazen. In hindsight this was inevitable. Irritating Camembert was the commander's bread and butter. Using food to do it was new, though.
Carefully Camembert picked up the box, slowly scanning it. It was actually nice, surprisingly. The cardboard was a soft brown with the bakery's logo neatly printed on the side, the deep browns accented by strips of black and gold. The cake itself was equally nice. The light yellow frosting was completely smooth, the top rim of the little circle dotted with elegant swirls. It was sprinkled with lemon zest, the pieces placed almost intentionally to look as nice as possible. Dead in the center was a lemon wedge and a waffer, propped up by a few more dolops of frosting.
Sitting in stark contrast to the quality of the box was a torn up piece of paper used as a note, taped to the back. The handwriting was actually neat, surprisingly. That moron has no sense of presentation, Camembert lamented. Carefully he tore off the letter, reading the message.
Hello, Pretty Boy, Camembert rolled his eyes at the nickname, long time no see. Hiding, I presume? You flatter me.
Anyways, I was on my patrol route when I saw this. It looks just as soft as you are. Hopefully you can enjoy this from whichever of your many rooms you're huddled up in.
Till we meet again, Commander.
Camembert crumbled up the note in his fist. Of course, this was some juvenile prank. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd added in rat poison, or a laxative, or something. Scanning the box though, the sticker keeping the lid closed was still in tact. Camembert didn't think Pudding was smart enough to get around a safety seal.
Glancing around the area, he pulled the box back inside, locking the door behind him. He closed the curtains to the lounge, because it wouldn't surprise him if that meat-head was leering at him through the window. If he was, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of watching.
Camembert set the box down on a nearby table, carefully opening the box. He inspected the treat with great care, making sure not a dolop was out of place. It wasn't. There weren't any finger prints to be found, no sticky residue of a loogie ruining the elegant frosting, not even a crumb out of place. Black Pudding had taken great care to make sure the cake came to him unblemished. So he was capable of taking pride in appearances. Shocking.
He picked up the cake, careful to not let anything slip off. The cake was slightly bigger then his hand, and twice as thick. The cheapskate had given him the smallest cake he could. Camembert puffed, once again rolling his eyes, before he hesitantly leaned in to take a bite.
It was one thing to make a cake look nice, and another to make it actually good. This was better then good. It was great. Like Camembert had assumed, the small cake was double layered, held together using a sweet cream. The cake was dense but delicate, melting in his mouth and leaving bursts of lemon on his tongue. It wasn't overtly tart or overly sweet, but a satisfying balance. Add the hearty helping of sugary vanilla frosting, so sweetly sticking to his lips, and it was nearly transcendent. He barely suppressed a moan of appreciation.
He swallowed thickly, his face puckering in exasperation. Begrudgingly, he'd give it to Black Pudding. He knew quality. He licked the residue frosting off his lips, the small taste reminding him of the flavor he hadn't forgotten. The cake hadn't been tampered with, and he was in privacy, so was there really a need for hesitation? The cake must've been expensive, anyways. It'd be a waste of coin to let it go to waste. Camembert had the entire thing finished in the next three bites.
His mouth stuffed with cake, he set off to fetch himself a napkin. As sweet as the taunt was, it was a transgression regardless. If that punk thinks he's won, he's got another thing coming.
-----
The patrol hadn't been anything unusual, but exhausting nonetheless. Black Pudding slowly trudged towards their base, Bacon Roll and Jerky following, equally as exhausted. The younger had perched themself on Bacon Roll's shoulders, half asleep as the older carried them. "Today was soooo boring," Bacon Roll whined, and Pudding found himself agreeing, "I think we all deserve a treat. Right, boss?"
Black Pudding sighed. "Already told you, we spent the last of our budget last week." Bacon Roll groaned long and loud in retaliation. Mourning whatever food she'd been fantasizing about.
As the group approached, a box on their doorstep became apparent. He held up his hand, Bacon Roll immediately stopping in her tracks. Occasionally the Grinders received packages, and on even rarer occasions, a threat. From a distance the package looked inconspicuous, but it was better safe then sorry.
Cautiously, Black Pudding approached, kneeling down in front of the box. Immediately he could see a cake through the little plastic window, neatly decorated with shavings of vanilla and slices of strawberry. Sitting on top was a letter stamped with an all too familiar seal.
Dear "Commander",
I must admit, I'm surprised you have the taste for anything but instant meals. Black Pudding rolled his eye. Given how clear your efforts to give me my offering, it'd be rude not to return the favor. Please, try not to choke on it.
Yours truly, your Master.
"Oooho, looks like the boss has an admirer." Black Pudding snapped his head around, finding a smirking Bacon Roll peering over his shoulder. For someone carrying a hammer her size, she moved way too quietly. Quickly her attention moved to the box, her eyes sparkling when she recognized the contents. "And what do we have here?"
Bacon Roll giddily whisked the box away while Pudding tucked the note into his pocket. "Note says it's for me, y'know."
"Aw, don't be like that! Sharing's caring." Bacon Roll sang, skipping into the base.
Jerky pirked up at the prospect of food, their eyes widening when they saw the sweet. "Dessert... for dinner?"
Black Pudding rushed in after them. "Now, hold on-"
The cake was divided into three equal slices, at the behest of the Grinder platoon. Bacon Roll and Jerky were very keen to make sure they got their full portions.Black Pudding wasn't sure what he expected from the cake, but it wasn't what he got. Something cheap, maybe. Something out a box. A decent but mediocre cake, or what qualified as mediocre cake before he ate this one. Suddenly after he took his first bite, every other cake was mediocre.
It was a vanilla double layered cake, the fluffy halves held together by a sweet custard and covered in buttercream frosting. Vanilla was a common flavoring, and a personal favorite of Black Pudding's, which Camembert had noticed. Somehow. Even though vanilla was a common flavor and hard to mess up, it was equally as difficult to get right. This dessert made it seem effortless. The vanilla was strong and everpresent, but not overpowering, the buttercream and custard an excellent compliment to its flavor. The strawberries were transcendent. Firm but fresh, no more than an hour out the fridge, and ripe enough they bursted on your tongue.
Bacon Roll hummed with every chew, her legs kicking beneath the table and tapping against Pudding's. "I think I've died and gone to heaven." She wisfully sighed, melting into her chair like the frosting on her tongue.
"So... good." Jerky hummed in agreement.
Black Pudding didn't comment on the taste. He reached to the side, dabbing off the bit of frosting that was stuck to the corner of his mouth. It felt like a crime to let something so delicious go to waste on a napkin. He licked the sugary remnants off his chapped lips, eye scrunching closed. Reluctantly, he had to give it to the block-head. He knew his cakes. Why was Black Pudding surprised? That brat probably ate these for breakfast.
Dualing with enjoying his treat was another thought. The thought of revenge. Honestly, he'd sent Camembert that cake on a whim. A taunt. It looks just as soft as you are, Black Pudding had thought while eyeing it through the window. He'd bought it and sent it off just to see how far it'd get beneath Camembert's dough. At most, he thought the bodyguard would remark on it at their next meeting and it'd never be mentioned again. Of course though, that stubborn bastard could never admit defeat. Now he'd gone and done this, foolishly thinking he could beat Black Pudding at his own game.
He stood up from the table, his sneakers squeaking against the floor as he went to leave. If that's how Camembert wanted to play it? Well, Pudding would show him how it's done. Bacon pirked up, watching Black Pudding stalk away. "Are you gonna finish that?" She called to him.
"Don't touch it." Pudding yelled over his shoulder, then took his leave. There was a moment of quiet, both of the remaining cookies intently watching the door, before it opened again. Pudding darted back over to the table, securing his slice of cake before rushing back out.
A few days later, Camembert found a box of lemon scones on his doorstep. Along with it, a note. "If you put half as much effort into appreciating these scones as you do your hair, you finally might learn something." A couple days after that, Black Pudding found a box of macaroons delivered to him. "You've probably never heard of these in the slums. Not your typical taste, but much better."
On, and on, and on it went. They were in a bizzare match off that neither were backing down from. The last dessert Camembert had received was lemon bars, the lemon curd firm and tangy and excellently complimented by the sugar and blueberries it'd been topped with. Begrudgingly, Camembert had to admit it'd been delicious. The plate had barely made it to his room before he'd finished his serving.
That'd been the last day he'd been able to enjoy himself. It'd been a week now of nonstop and frankly insulting grunt work assigned to him. Ever since the Sacchar Pearl incident, Brie Cheese made sure he paid for it tend fold with humiliation. As if the whole charade wasn't humiliation enough.
For the past week Camembert had been handling a small time syndicate that was invading House Lactose's territory. It wasn't unheard of, these arrogant gangs thinking they could tear away some of the top syndicates terf. Little insects flocking to the sweet temptation of prime territory. The only thing Camembert could give this particular groups is that they were excellent at wasting his time. The only thing this group had on its side were numbers; Camembert would crush one, and ten more would crawl out of their gutters. Like Roaches.
House Lactose wasn't loosing any territory, but they weren't regaining anything, either. Camembert was wasting his days dealing with an issue that was well beneath him, and only served as an annoyance. Camembert barely had time to crawl into his bed for the night, let alone go out and hunt down his next culinary transgression. In his brief moments of solace Camembert had been trying to plan his next move, but it was hard to do it efficiently without his options in front of him. It had to be something high-end, that Black Pudding couldn't dream of affording himself. Get the point across who was the better here. Something painfully intricate too, to point out his oh-so delicate tastes. Of course something vanilla as well, because leave it to that bastard to have the most generic tastes imaginable.
A cheesecake, maybe, though that felt too plain. Pudding had no imagination, but that didn't mean Camembert didn't have one. A tart, maybe? Similar to a cheesecake, but a simpleton like him would probably think it exotic. If Camembert remembered right the bakery had a few that were extensively decorated, dotted with kiwis and berries. The kiwis might be a problem though. Unlike himself, Black Pudding wasn't fond of a little bite in his food. Maybe he could get the bakery to make him something custom?
He was half distracted by his thoughts, half his exhaustion, as he slogged through the quiet early morning streets of Platter City. He'd been working to counteract those irritating cronies all night, bleeding into the early morning. He was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was return to the manor and get some much needed rest. Brie would chew his ear off if she found out he'd be sleeping the whole day, but Camembert couldn't will himself to care. As if his sister wouldn't find another reason to scold him.
Camembert slipped into one of the city's many back alleys, escaping the bright rays of the early sun. It was a break for his tired eyes, which were fighting to stay open. The darkness the high brick walls gave him were heavenly, but only worsened his exhaustion. He barely registered his eyes slipping shut, relief flooding him as his eyelids took a much needed rest.
"Never thought I'd see the day." A voice far too close snapped Camembert out of his stupor. His eyes shot open, instinctively leaping to the side to put distance between him and whoever that voice belonged. He shouldn't have been surprised to see the culprit, because of course it'd be Black Pudding Cookie. Leave it to him to make a bad day worse.
Camembert stood up straight, his shoulders tensing as he glared at the shorter. Black Pudding just chuckled, his lips curling into a pleased smirk. "Definitely lookin worse for wear. Miss your beauty sleep?"
Camembert scoffed at the comment, his frown deepening. He didn't have the energy to deal with this moron today. "Get to the point. What do you want?" He grumbled.
Pudding snorted softly. "Fine, I'll do us both a favor." He kicked off the brick wall he'd been leaning against, approaching. "You've been missing in action. An entire week and I haven't gotten anything. I thought that reckless attitude finally caught up to you."
Camembert narrowed his eyes onto Black Pudding, trying to decipher whatever he was babbling about. "... is this about getting your cake?" He felt his tired lips curl into a smirk. Was the ever so precise Black Pudding showing his hand? He'd dragged himself all the way from Meat Boulevard and hid in an alley for who knows how long to beg Camembert for a treat? Suddenly this day just got a lot better.
"Oh, no. I'm just here to congratulate you on a hard fought battle." Black Pudding was starting to circle him now, smirking up at Camembert. "You fought valiantly, but clearly my pick was just too much for you to top."
Camembert blinked. "What?"
"That's what this is, isn't it? A concession?" Black Pudding asked. Camembert's dough prickled at the implication. "I get it, really. You just couldn't keep up with me, per usual."
"As usual-" Camembert parroted. He could feel rage starting to boil low in his gut. Was this guy serious? "You're delusional if you think i'm falling for this."
"Falling for what, young Master?" Black Pudding batted his eye at Camembert with enough faux innocence to make him sick. He was definitely messing with him. Baiting him into getting outraged and playing right into his hand, like he always tried to do. He always thought he was so clever about it. That Camembert was dumb enough to instantly rage at whatever absurdities spilled out Pudding's mouth. Did he really think he was that foolish? That Pudding could use clever wording to tell him what to do, and Camembert would obey like some dog?
He felt his face curl into a "smile", more barring his teeth like a snarling animal. "Well, since you've begged oh-so nicely, I can't let you leave empty handed, can I?"
Black Pudding shrugged. Camembert could see the tension faintly twitching in his neck, which the other desperately tried to play off. "Whatever makes you feel better."
"Oh no, I insist." Camembert hissed out his last word, pushing the other towards the exit of the alley. He quickly switched course, turning off his initial route to instead go towards the bakery. For a moment he walked alone, before Pudding begrudgingly followed. He jogged briefly to catch up, falling into step next to him. Camembert smirked. Like a dog.
The walk to the bakery was brief. He was surprised it was even open this early in the morning, but in a line of shops it was the only building with its lights on. Camembert took full advantage of his height, using his longer legs to beat Pudding to the door. He ripped it open for the other, the bell overhead jingling to announce their arrival. Black Pudding tilted his hat to cover his face, slipping under Camembert's arm and into the bakery.
The interior was warm and cozy, the lighting soft and complimented by the deep brown wood that made up the walls. The building always smelled delicious, but this morning it was especially fragrent. The interior smelled like warm bread, berries, custards and sugars and everything that'd make any cookie's mouth water. Half of the stores shelves were empty, a cookie with a firm expression and pristine apron bouncing around the small isles to restock them with freshly baked pastries. They must've come first thing, right as the shop opened while they wrapped up baking their first batches.
Black Pudding grazed against a box of croissants as he weaved through the isles, the cardboard warm against his side. He ignored Camembert as he tailed him, scanning the sales floor until he found what he wanted. He picked up a box of two dozen cupcakes, boasting several flavors. Camembert frowned. "Of course you pick the most expensive thing when I'm paying."
Black Pudding pouted as dramatically as he could. "Aw, it's like you don't even know me."
He took his prize to the counter, where a shorter cookie with an apron dusted in jams and flour was. She was momentarily occupied with stocking the display shelves, tenderly inserting a row of doughnuts to make sure not even a sprinkle fell out of place. She pirked up when she noticed the two approaching, offering them a smile as bright as the rising sun outside. "Good morning!" She chirped. As she looked between the pair, her smile only got wider. "I was wondering when you two'd come in together!"
Camembert and Black Pudding exchanged glances. They didn't acknowledge the observation, refusing to admit to the other that they came in that often for each other to be associated. The cashier was caught off guard by the lull. As she clicked away at the register, she decided on another topic of conversation. "So, how long?"
They both blinked in confusion, asking "what?" simultaneously. The baker looked just as befuddled, her gentle eyes darting between the two. "How long have you been together?"
There was a long, drawn out silence. "... if we are a couple, do we get a discount?"
Camembert elbowed Black Pudding's side, disguising it as him nudging the other away so he could pay, like the chivalrous gentleman he allegedly was. "Ignore him, all that sugar's gone to his brain."
Wisely, the baker didn't push the topic any further. She just took the coins and smiled. "Have a wonderful day!" She called as the two took left. Camembert lagged behind to put his wallet away, giving Black Pudding ample time to bolt ahead and open the door. He grinned fiendishly at the taller.
"After you, dear." If they weren't being watched, Camembert would've slammed the door shut in his face.
The two walked out, the sun slightly higher in the sky. The streets of Platter City were starting to come alive, a few cookies now bustling about in the open. That was probably both of their ques to go their separate ways.
Black Pudding turned, going to retreat into the alley with his sweets, when he heard something yelled at him. "That'd never happen." He cocked an eyebrow, turning back to look at Camembert. "I'd never go for you. I'd never lower my standards that much."
Black Pudding snorted. "Oh no, the illustrious Camembert doesn't see me as a suitable mate. What ever will I do?" He said in the most deadpan tone possible, looking back at the bodyguard blankly. "Well, if that's all, im off. So long, Pretty Boy."
Camembert grimaced. "Try not to choke on it, meat-head." He called back before the two went their separate ways. They were already plotting against each other, scheming what'd be the sweetest for their revenge.