The cake was a decadent looking chocolate vision. Three layers of rich chocolate cake with layers of chocolate ganache in between. It was covered with a thick layer of creamy icing. Grated pieces of chocolate --white and dark-- were spread out on the top and a little on the side. Each individually sliced piece had a dollop of whipped cream with a bright maraschino cherry on top.
Desmond had never wanted a single thing more in his life than he wanted that cake. He'd planned it out. Timing his plan to coincide with the varied schedules of the others. Carefully watching them and patiently waiting for the perfect time to go for it. Lucy was gone on a supply run, Rebecca had just started her hour long shower, and Shaun was safely wrapped up in somehting on his computer with a full and hot cup of tea.
The timing didn't get any better than that. With only one piece remaining, Desmond took his chance. Moving quickly but quietly in the kitchen. Getting a plate and fork and then carefully transferring the cake out of it's box. Days of planning, nights of wanting. It was all worth it.
For all of two seconds.
"What the fuck, man!?" Desmond actually growled as the plate was snatched away. His fork --left dangling in midair-- was spun and clenched in his fist menacingly as he rounded on his opponent.
Shaun held the plate and it's slice of cake away and shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. "I thought we went over this before, Desmond. Fat men don't get dessert."
"It's just one piece," Desmond protested. Eying the distance to the cake and calculating the odds of getting to it before Shaun dropped it on the floor. The numbers were perilously low. "And I'm not fat!"
"That roll of flesh spilling out of your jeans says otherwise," Shaun said as he looked at the cake. "Better yet, tell it to someone that hasn't seen how much trouble you have putting those jeans on."
"It's not that bad," Desmond hated that his words came out suspiciously close to a whine. Sure, his jeans were getting a little on the tight side, and he might --might!-- have a little problem putting them on in the mornings, but that was to be expected. Clothes shrank, especially when they had to be washed so often because you had nothing else to wear. Regular workouts between Animus sessions were also doing their bit as he started to gain muscle mass. "One fucking piece isn't going to kill me."
It was a lost cause though. Shaun wouldn't budge on the issue anymore than Lucy or Rebecca would. Especially not if he could show off just how much of a dick he was at the same time. Desmond wondered what his odds were of catching one forkful of the cake before it got dropped. Wondered if it was really worth the price the women would exact for it, because Shaun would of course tell them all about it.
"No. You are on a diet until that excess fat goes away. Which means," Shaun grinned then because he was a son of a bitch, "no cake for you."
And then, because he was a sadistic son of a bitch, he snagged the fork out of Desmond's hand and walked off with the plate. Humming in obvious enjoyment as he ate it. "Asshole!"
Not a Complete Lie
Desmond had never wanted a single thing more in his life than he wanted that cake. He'd planned it out. Timing his plan to coincide with the varied schedules of the others. Carefully watching them and patiently waiting for the perfect time to go for it. Lucy was gone on a supply run, Rebecca had just started her hour long shower, and Shaun was safely wrapped up in somehting on his computer with a full and hot cup of tea.
The timing didn't get any better than that. With only one piece remaining, Desmond took his chance. Moving quickly but quietly in the kitchen. Getting a plate and fork and then carefully transferring the cake out of it's box. Days of planning, nights of wanting. It was all worth it.
For all of two seconds.
"What the fuck, man!?" Desmond actually growled as the plate was snatched away. His fork --left dangling in midair-- was spun and clenched in his fist menacingly as he rounded on his opponent.
Shaun held the plate and it's slice of cake away and shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. "I thought we went over this before, Desmond. Fat men don't get dessert."
"It's just one piece," Desmond protested. Eying the distance to the cake and calculating the odds of getting to it before Shaun dropped it on the floor. The numbers were perilously low. "And I'm not fat!"
"That roll of flesh spilling out of your jeans says otherwise," Shaun said as he looked at the cake. "Better yet, tell it to someone that hasn't seen how much trouble you have putting those jeans on."
"It's not that bad," Desmond hated that his words came out suspiciously close to a whine. Sure, his jeans were getting a little on the tight side, and he might --might!-- have a little problem putting them on in the mornings, but that was to be expected. Clothes shrank, especially when they had to be washed so often because you had nothing else to wear. Regular workouts between Animus sessions were also doing their bit as he started to gain muscle mass. "One fucking piece isn't going to kill me."
It was a lost cause though. Shaun wouldn't budge on the issue anymore than Lucy or Rebecca would. Especially not if he could show off just how much of a dick he was at the same time. Desmond wondered what his odds were of catching one forkful of the cake before it got dropped. Wondered if it was really worth the price the women would exact for it, because Shaun would of course tell them all about it.
"No. You are on a diet until that excess fat goes away. Which means," Shaun grinned then because he was a son of a bitch, "no cake for you."
And then, because he was a sadistic son of a bitch, he snagged the fork out of Desmond's hand and walked off with the plate. Humming in obvious enjoyment as he ate it. "Asshole!"