Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Right before Trace opened the first gift I had to stop him. I remembered the cupcakes I'd made  and excused myself to the cooler to get out the cakes and the icing.
I came back and laid out a tray on the bed before sitting in front of it and piping the icing on the little cakes while Trace watched. They were simple, just carrot cake with cream cheese icing but Trace had admitted once he was a slut for carrot cake. And though I didn't think of him as a slut, I took that to mean he liked it.
"Are those for me?" He asked in a small voice.
I looked up briefly. "I made them for you, yes."
His voice was low, "It's really hot having my man make things for me. Why don't you let me feed you one?"
I flushed. "Maybe later, Trace. I wanted to give you your gifts first, not get distracted."
"Distractions aren't so bad." He picked up one cupcake and started to peel back the wrapper. "Just one."
My resolve faltered and Trace took a small bite from his cupcake and groaned. "Fuck, why is everything you make so good?" Then, he raised the cupcake to my mouth and I opened it reluctantly. My belly tightened with heat as I chewed the cupcake.
Trace moved closer to me until he was a few inches from my face. "You have some icing...right...there." The kiss was deep, and Trace wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and his other hand was on my chest, stroking. "Okay," he said after several seconds, "I think we're good."
"You're evil," I said softly.
"Aw, baby, don't say that." Trace looked pointedly between my legs. "We can take a breather. Someone looks like they need to breathe."
I raised my chin definitely. "I'm fine. I want to give you your gifts! Stop c-c-conspiring against me!" I still hated how my stutter liked to make an appearance whenever I felt especially thrown.
Trace pouted. "Okay, I can behave."
"No touching until everything is exchanged."
"Yes, sir." I gave him a look and Trace finally looked chastened.  He raised his hands in defense. "Okay, okay."
I finished piping icing on the cupcakes and tried to calm myself down. My heart was absolutely racing. I sat back up and cleared my throat. "You can open your gifts, now... don't know if it's too much or too little but I just wanted to do something. But, uh, just continue." I pushed the bag over to Trace.
The first thing he pulled out was a wrapped gift and he carefully pulled back the tape and the paper to reveal a giant fluffy scarf that I'd knitted. I'd started the project in the baking beasts house and finished it hurriedly last night. Trace had mentioned wanting a scarf before and I used a grey fabric to make one. It was lush and bulky and I thought the grey matched his skin tone really well.
He brought the scarf to his face and closed his eyes to inhale. "It smells just like you, I love it. Is hugging allowed?"
I nodded shyly and Trace gave me a big hug, sneaking a kiss on my cheek. "This is so thoughtful, Darius, thank you." The hug lasted longer than I expected and when Trace sniffled I moved away.
He discreetly rubbed at his eyes and I frowned. "Something's wrong," I murmured, "a scarf isn't so nice a gift that you would cry..."
Trace shook his head. "It's really sweet, Darius. I just didn't expect something so thoughtful. This seems like a day of confessions, on my part at least. And... today is actually my birthday."
"Today is WHAT?!" I yelled. I caught my tone and quieted down. "Oh my goodness. This isn't enough. I should've baked a cake. I should've made you a meal. I should've got you proper gifts. I shoul—"
Trace moved closer to me and squeezed my knee. "Darius," he said very softly, squeezing hard enough until I noticed, "I don't celebrate my birthday." His gaze was somewhat distant and his mouth was settled in a flat, uncompromising line. "It's the day I lost—well. You know. We were heading to a barbecue  place to celebrate when...yeah. So, I don't celebrate it. Nalini celebrates hers next week because she's understanding. But—" he took a breath. "I was thinking this is the best birthday I've had in a really long time. And I can't remember the last time I thought that. So honestly, if this was the only thing you got me I'd be so happy. Because I know that you spent time and effort on this and you made it with your own two hands." He held the scarf up to his face like it was made of glass and his voice trickled to a whisper, "I don't have the words."
"Oh," I said just as quietly, feeling so terrible for him, "oh. I'm so sorry..."
"It's okay," he said quickly, giving me a barely there smile. "Can I open the next one?"
I nodded soundlessly, thinking about how strong Trace was to do his best everyday despite how much some things affected him. I would never understand what it was like to look down at your body everyday and be reminded of a traumatic accident, but I knew I could support him and be there for him.
Trace picked up a box next and I watched with bated breaths as he undid the bow holding everything together and took off the lid. There was some tissue paper that Trace had to ruffle through before he pulled out a piece of embroidery.
"Woahhh," he murmured, "did you— did you make this, too?"
I'd been dabbling with hand embroidery since I was in my early teens and keeping my hands busy had always done wonders for my anxiety. It was a bit painstaking but I liked doing it.
Over the past few months that I'd known Trace I had been embroidering some of the characters or sceneries I'd seen in his games. He'd told me before that he treasured fan creations and I had been a fan of the art in his games since I played them. I had put the finishing touches on two different embroidery pieces last night and packed them into a gift box.
One piece was the scenery of my farm and the setting sun in one of Trace's games. And the other was one of my favourite love interests in one of the games. The two pieces were very different but I'd put a lot of time and effort into them. Despite searching with Manny for hours at the mall I realized the kinds of gifts that I was best at giving were things I could make on my own.
I watched Trace hopefully but his reaction was hard to read. He very carefully put the two pieces down and came over to me wrapping me in a bone crushing hug. This hug was different than the one before. It was almost desperate and unexpected enough that I fell backwards onto the bed and Trace fell on top of me.
He pulled back and sat back on the bed, just staring at me. "This is too much. It's too sweet. I can't believe...God. Fuck. Shit. I'm going to treasure these for fucking ever, okay? The stitches are so small and everything is so detailed. And Beyond the Sea was my very first game. So this view of the garden is...wow. You're so perfect. I need to give you my gifts, but they're nowhere near as thoughtful as yours. Gosh, I'm rambling, aren't I? I think I am. I feel..." Trace stared hard at me. "I don't know the words in English. But, can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you."
Seeing Trace so flustered was as flattering as it was interesting. His cheeks were just a bit pink and every time he looked at the box or touched the scarf he seemed to become even more flustered. At that moment he carefully removed the scarf and put it in the box with the embroidery.
Then, he turned to me and his eyes were two pools of liquid heat. "No?"
I swallowed loudly. "I'm glad you like my gifts and yes—yes, you can kiss me."
Trace crawled over to me on the bed and pushed both his hands under my shirt. His warm hands were suddenly on my bare skin and I gasped. His hands felt all encompassing and possessive as he looked up at me. "Would you be able to be quiet..."
His hands circled my belly, my pecs and then before I knew it my shirt was off. Trace lowered his head to my pecs, licking a line from the hollow of my throat to the top of my navel. I felt like I was on fire and there was no way for me to think, never mind speak.
And then Trace finally kissed me. It was hard, nearly bruising and I was melting from my lips all the way to the tips of my toes. Trace's body was hovering over mine and he was everywhere at once. It took me a moment to realize he was speaking. "You are so beautiful. So perfect. So thoughtful. So genuine. So kind. I love you, Darius." He cupped my cheeks and I was just staring into his deep brown eyes. "Are you hearing me?"
"I hear you, Trace," I said softly.
But Trace was staring at my mouth like he couldn't hear a word I was saying. "Do you want to open your gifts now or...later."
"Why later?" I asked before realizing what Trace was suggesting. And then my face burned once I took in his expression.
"Can you be quiet?" He asked again after gnawing on his lip.
"I can try."
"Well, that's good enough for me."
Trace unceremoniously stripped until he was down to his briefs and his sleeve and he beckoned me to come to the bed. I was very quick to follow.
#
Trace had worn me out enough that I'd dozed off and when I woke up I realized that I hadn't even put my shirt back on. I rubbed my eyes groggily as I wondered how I'd lost it enough that I had sex with Trace in a tent. I would never live this down.
Oh God. What if he thought I was easy? Did having sex in a tent make me easy? Well, no, I guess it didn't. Sleeping with my boyfriend wasn't supposed to be a weird thing. Did I think it was weird? No. No, it wasn't weird. It was just...intense. Intense enough that I barely remembered my own name sometimes.
But, at the moment I wished he was there to cuddle with me. The tent felt big and lonely without him. Just at that thought, Trace unzipped the door to the tent and came in.
"Where'd you go?" I mumbled, wishing he had been cuddling with me but unable to say all that. That would make me sound needy.
Trace gave me an odd look. "I just went to throw out our trash. I'm surprised you're awake already. I didn't wear you out enough?"
I blinked once before deciding to reply. "I refuse to answer that. And I've decided I would like to open my gifts now." Trace's capacity for embarrassing me seemed to be absolutely limitless.
He smirked. I was sure I must have looked sweaty and gross but Trace's hair was artfully tousled and he looked extremely kissable. "You could talk dirty to me, you know?" He put his hands on his hips. "I can take it."
My face burned and I looked away. "I can't say that stuff," I mumbled.
Trace took his shoes off and came to fold his body around me. He hugged me from behind and nuzzled his cheek against mine. "You can do what makes you comfortable but I'd find it hot if we could get there some day."
I turned around and moved my head against Trace's chest, listening to his heartbeat for a moment. "Can we please not talk about this...it's too much. I don't know why I can't talk about sex like a normal functioning adult, but I can't."
Trace sighed, lightly dragging his nails over my curls. The feeling was comforting and I felt like I could fall asleep right there. Trace's voice was low, "Okay, baby, let's get to your gifts."
The two of us separated and I sat patiently, waiting for my gifts.
"I tried not to make too big a deal out of things because I didn't want to be too intense," Trace began softly.
The gift bag wasn't too large and some tissue paper was sticking out haphazardly out of the bag. I dug around in it for a moment and I pulled out a small, dark box. It looked exactly like where someone would find an engagement ring and I was so startled for a moment I didn't know what to say. And when I finally opened the box, there were a pair of gold stud earrings. My reply was soft, "Oh, wow. These are lovely, thank you."
I'd gone and pierced my ears with Manny in high school but then I'd never ended up wearing earrings very often. I couldn't help but wonder why Trace chose this as a gift.
"I got a pair for myself, too," he said quietly, "I thought it would be cute if we had matching earrings. I noticed that your ears were pierced and I thought it would be nice for us to coordinate."
I finally understood and the idea of Trace wanting to match made me laugh. "Okay, then let's wear them on our next date!"
Trace nodded quickly. "Yes."
I put the earrings away and reached back into the bag and picked up what I definitely knew was a book. I unwrapped it carefully to see a recipe book with my name embossed on the front. It was sturdy and thick, decorated in pale blue on the front, a few sketches of ingredients like sugar, butter, and flour, and then my name in gold. Right there on the front in large gold letters: "Darius' recipe book."
Oh gosh. I laughed and then smiled and hugged the book. "Oh wow, thank you, Trace! I was beginning to feel like my cue card system wasn't very travel friendly. I like it very much."
My cue card system was how I arranged all my recipes so far. I wrote out the recipes on cue cards and put them in a filing cabinet that I alphabetized. But this book was something I could easily carry and transport. No one had ever given me something that reflected my hobbies so exactly before and I felt seen.
Trace gestured to the last gift and I opened it. There was another jewelry box and I gasped when I opened it. It was an ornate gold bar necklace with two initials artfully interwoven. But, I was puzzled for a moment to see N&D as the initials.
I looked closely at it. "Why does it say the letter N?"
"Well," Trace explained, "my full name is actually Noor Ryuunosuke Tsuchida."
"Oh, right..." I murmured, feeling like this gift was so significant I couldn't understand it. The back of the necklace had the day we met on it and I felt like my heart was in my throat. Wow.
"I just wanted...to commemorate our relationship somehow," Trace said carefully, "I'm the kind of man who knows what I want. And I know that I want— I want everything with you, Darius. I want us to have zombie marathons and play video games together and go to those little foodie shops you want to go to but you're worried about going alone. And I want to listen to you tell me about all the things that matter to you. I want to be someone you see a future with.  And I know I can be intense, and overbearing and too much but I just want this so much." Trace's voice was low and serious as he spoke to me but for a small moment he paused and his voice became vulnerable. "When my father met my mom he was obsessed with her. He just knew. And I know, Darius."
I took a big breath and couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." I curled in on myself and fresh, hot tears began to flow down my face.
"Oh, Darius," Trace said, throwing his arms around me and rubbing my back. "I think we've both been crying too much today."
I laughed a bit at that and Trace joined in. The moment felt delicate and intimate up until my stomach starting whining. I let out a gasp. Trace leaned back and laughed heartily.
"I'm sorry!" I blurted out but Trace only laughed harder.
"Oh my God, it's fine," he said, still chuckling. "I'm always down for a midnight snack. Let's go to the camp stove."
"Uhm..." I mumbled, "Can you put the necklace on me? My hands are sweaty."
I unclasped the necklace and put it around my neck, waiting for Trace to put it back together.  His fingers felt hot against my skin as he clasped it together and I swallowed audibly. This was serious to Trace. I was serious to Trace. So many things were proof of that and the necklace was just the icing on the cake.
Trace gave me a possessive look, fiddling with  the necklace so it sat low on my neck. Instead of thinking, I just acted, giving a kiss to the man I loved. I put my hands in his silky hair, and opened my mouth against his to taste him. He let out a soft moan into my mouth and I ended the kiss there.
"Thank you for the gift, Trace," I said quietly, "Oh—uh. Do you want me to call you Noor now?"
Trace licked his lips before replying. "I like Trace."
That was a relief. "Okay, I like it, too."
Trace shifted on the bed, reaching out for his leg. "C'mon get dressed so I can feed you. How do you feel about soup?"
"I think I'm a fan of anything right now."
#
Half an hour later we were back in the tent, clutching our almost too hot bowls of soup. Trace had prepped a chicken potato soup and all he had to do was warm it over the stove top and it was cooked all the way through. I was impressed with just how prepared Trace seemed for absolutely everything.
"Can I ask, Darius...Where do you see yourself in five to ten years?" Trace's expression was serious and thoughtful, even as I nearly choked on my soup.
"Well," I said nervously, trying to compose myself, "I guess baking is the obvious answer but I don't really think about the future much...I mean, I put my money in my savings account and I plan but I don't seriously think about my future."
Trace seemed like he forgot all about his soup. "Why?"
"I don't know," I mumbled, "it's like...I start to think about...all the things that are wrong with me and all the things that I can't do and I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about how ten years from now all the people I went to school with will probably have things figured out. Or kids and partners and fulfilling careers."
"Hmm," Trace murmured, "do you want those things?"
I blinked. "What things?"
"A family to come home to, and a job you're passionate about?"
"Yes, but—"
"But?"
"I'm just fumbling through life, Trace."
"Baby, you're not," Trace said emphatically. "You're not fumbling through life at all. Life is so fucking crazy and the best any of us can do is deal with it. Everyone has their own mountains they have to climb and every day you're climbing it, Darius. That doesn't mean you're fumbling. You're trying your best. You went from a job you hated to one that's about your passion, and you're taking steps with your anxiety. You don't need to have it all figured out by a certain age." He took a few tentative sips of his soup.
I nodded, only half believing him. "What about where you see yourself?"
Trace smiled softly and his voice was even softer, "Well, ten years from now, I hope I'm waking up to the love of my life, and we're building a life together that makes sense for the both of us. Maybe we'll live in a bungalow and gossip about neighbourhood drama or we'll be dropping off cupcakes at the kids' school or we'll argue about stupid things like what to eat for dinner and how to get the water bill down. But, none of that will matter because there's no where I'd rather be."
"Oh," I said quietly, "that was very eloquent."
"Maybe, because I see all that with you," Trace said quietly before raising the bowl of soup to his mouth and drinking it down.
It took everything in my not to drop my soup and all I was able to mumble was, "oh." Even thought my heart was singing.
After we finished eating, we cleaned up and finally got into the bed. After the gift giving, and our meal it was actually late now and the two of us snuggled together in our bed nook.
I was laying half on Trace's chest and he was humming softly. His voice was so pretty and I felt like it suited someone as incredible as Trace. Whenever he hummed lower I could feel the vibrations in his chest and it was calming enough my eyes started to close.
But then Trace stopped humming.
"Do you want kids someday?" he asked slowly.
"If I knew I'd be a good parent, then yeah. I think I might start taking adoption certification classes in the next year or two... just to see what it's all about. I've heard that it takes like five years for couples and in five years I'll be in my thirties and I wouldn't want to wait long to start the process...But, I still don't know if I would be a good father figure."
"You'd be a wonderful dad, Darius," Trace said quietly, " And what about finances? Are you the kind of person who wants couples to have joint accounts?"
I laughed. "I used to work in finance so I know that's a bad idea. The only joint account should be the monthly bills, and joint savings."
"Okay."
"Wait a second...are you interviewing me?" I sat up on the bed and stared at Trace.
He was quiet for a moment as a blush rose on his cheeks. "Maybe."
"Why?"
"Well, if you meet my parents they're gonna ask me all this stuff and I realized I don't know a lot of the answers. But, don't worry you're passing with flying colours. But, I have no idea what your parents are like."
"My mom will definitely interrogate you," I realized out loud, "she only met my first boyfriend and it was so awkward. Carter is half Ghanaian and he speaks French fluently and I think that's the only reason my mom ended up approving of him. She was scary."
"Will she be disappointed if I'm not African?"
"Uhm," I mumbled. I knew the answer without saying it. My mother would obviously have preferred for me to be straight and date a woman from the same culture as us. She'd been visibly disappointed when Cyrus introduced his future wife to the family. She was Black, but African-American and she didn't speak French. My mother gushed over CJ but she was never more than friendly with his mother.
It wasn't entirely my mother's fault in my opinion, English wasn't completely native to her and that was why she wanted someone who spoke one of her native languages to be her daughter or son in law.
Trace sighed. "It's okay. She doesn't have to like me, she just has to respect our relationship."
"I'm not explaining it well, but the fact you speak French will really impress her. She wanted Cyrus' wife to learn French or Ewe or Twi but she refused. Even when my mom offered to teach her and that really...didn't help things. You don't have to be Ewe but it's just communication and shared values that my mom likes. My father is easygoing and you don't have to worry about him."
"Okay," Trace announced, "then I'm not worried. Turn over, I wanna be the big spoon."
I turned over and Trace kissed the back of my neck. "Goodnight, baby."
"Can I ask you something?" I said quickly, instead of saying goodnight.
Trace mumbled his assent and I took a long breath. It was easier to stare into the darkness of the tent and feel Trace's warm body around me than it was to face him. But, I needed to face him for this.
I turned around and the tent was too dark to make out more than the suggestion of Trace's full lips, high cheekbones and intense eyes. "I feel like when I tell you I'm fucked up that you don't get it."
Trace's voice had a warning edge to it, "Don't talk about yourself that way, Darius."
I shook my head, just plowing ahead. "And you're saying all these lovely things about us having a future together and having a life together and I feel like you don't understand me."
Trace sat up in the dark and the lines of his body were tense. "I'd like to think I understand you by now."
I chewed my lip. "I mean—I mean that my anxiety isn't going to go away. Even with therapy. I'll always be anxious."
Trace's voice went soft and he brushed my cheek for a moment. "Something that's out of your control doesn't bother me, baby. I feel like you're trying to push me away right now and it's making me sad."
"Don't be sad," I said quickly, "I'm just trying to explain."
"But, I know all this already, I know you have anxiety, and a panic disorder and it won't stop me from being with you or loving you, Darius. I'm turning on the lights. I want to look at you while this is—"
"Except, sometimes I'm agoraphobic!" I blurted our loudly.
There was silence for a moment as my heart flew into my throat and I couldn't make out Trace's expression. He fumbled around for a moment and turned on a lantern before raising himself on the bed and attaching it to a hook on the ceiling. It put an intimate glow over our bed but Trace was looking at me funny.
"I don't know what that word means," he admitted after a beat of silence.
"Oh...Uhm.." My face burned. "I wanted to tell you about it for a long time. And I feel like since things are getting serious then I should tell you. Because I don't mean to not tell you things. But then you look at me like I matter and like you love me and I feel bad because I should tell you these things."
"Because you do matter and I do love you," Trace interjected.
But I just kept going, "At least, I think I should tell you but then I don't. Because I do want you to like me and I feel like if you knew then you would...like me less. And I don't want that. I really, honestly, truly don't want that." I felt like I was going to have a panic attack and I hadn't even gotten to the point of my ramblings.
"Is being agoraphobic terminal or something?" Trace said with a note of fear in his voice.
Trace's serious tone made me laugh for a moment and I calmed down considerably.
"Well," I said bitterly, "there was a time when I didn't go outside... for months. It was after my finance job which I hated. I hated it so much. I would have panic attacks every day and my hair started falling out and I wasn't able to make any friends there and they were kind of racist and super judgmental and I just hated it but I didn't know how to quit. It was my first job after school and I was making six figures but it wasn't worth it. I wanted to quit after the first month and I stayed for years. And one day, after Manny gave me a pep talk I finally quit. And I told myself I'd take it easy for two weeks before looking for work. And I was so happy." My voice broke as I tried to stay calm. "I was so happy Trace. I didn't have to worry about anyone thinking anything about me or going out. And I found this business that delivers groceries to your door. And I just didn't go anywhere. Two weeks became two months and then when I did try to go outside I would just have constant panic attacks. It was like everything outside was too stressful. And I had to try to get outside in stages because I realized I couldn't stay indoors anymore. And eventually I could. But it's so fucked up that the happiest I'd been in a long time was when I was cooped indoors. And I'm sorry that I'm like that."
Trace's mouth was slightly open and he was just staring at me as I stammered through my mess of a story. But then he closed his mouth and frowned. "It's okay, Darius. You try your best every single day and I can't ask from more from you. You basically gave yourself exposure therapy to get over it. That's pretty bad ass in my opinion. I won't judge you for it."
I stared at Trace for a long second. "Oh." He wasn't running away or seeming angry but he was just looking at me patiently. Like it wasn't a big deal.
Trace yawned tiredly. "Lie back down, so we can spoon."
Robotically, I laid back down and Trace reached up and unhooked the lantern, flicking it off. I was the small spoon again and Trace kissed the back of my neck before snuggling against me. "Baby, it's okay, just sleep, alright? We can go on the lake again and take some nice walks when you wake up. It's just me here, and I'm always on your side."
Slowly, but surely, the tenseness eased out of my body and I was finally able to fall asleep, wrapped up in Trace and feeling safe.