Ben's Bakery and the Hanukkah Miracle

by Penelope Peters

  “Okay,” Ben was saying. “Okay. Okay.”

  Adam’s heart leapt in his chest. “Okay what?”

  Ben snorted. “As if you weren’t the one to ask. Yes. I want you too – for a lot longer than a week.”

  “Thank GD,” breathed Adam.

  And this time when they kissed – Adam thought he would burst with joy.

  Epilogue

  It was a beautiful but ridiculously humid Wednesday in late August when Ben threw the locks on the front door of the shop, turning the sign to Closed just as two teenagers approached. Their faces fell in what was clearly disappointed despair.

  Ben couldn’t help it; he unlocked the door and stuck his head out.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “Early close today. If you know exactly what you want, though—”

  “Two cupcakes?” asked one of the girls hopefully. “Any flavor but chocolate.”

  Ben chuckled. “Can do. Wait right here.”

  It only took a moment to box them up, but the girls waited patiently on the other side of the glass until he returned with the cupcakes.

  “One lemon and one dulce de leche,” he said, handing them over.

  “How much?” asked the girl not holding the cupcakes.

  Ben shook his head. “Nope, sorry, can’t sell cupcakes after closing. Store policy.”

  “Seriously? Thanks!” said the first girl.

  “You’re welcome!”

  Ben locked the door quickly, hoping to forestall any other unexpected visitors.

  Expected visitors knew better than to come to the front door, anyway. And their plane wouldn’t land for another three hours, which gave Ben plenty of time to put the finishing touches on dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy – he’d had it cooking in the crock-pot since his lunch break several hours before – but there was still laundry to be folded, not to mention a final scrub of the bathroom he knew they’d be using to its limit.

  Hot water, remembered Ben. He resolved to do the dishes first, to give his water heater a chance to recover in time.

  After all, there had to be some kind of celebration for dropping the “long-distance” in their long-distance relationship. Ben was pretty sure hot water would be involved extensively, even with the humidity that hung heavily in the air.

  The last eight months hadn’t been so bad, really – especially since they both knew it was only the temporary lead-up to something even better. Adam had flown back to Montreal with his team in December and returned two weeks later to celebrate the New Year with Ben in Boston, because Ben was swamped with end-of-year orders and couldn’t leave.

  Valentine’s Day had been spent in Montreal, with Ben cheering the Penguins at the rink while Adam coached. Ephraim sat by his side explaining the rules as best he remembered.

  “Ben and I have decided,” announced Ephraim during the celebratory ice cream after the game. “I’m going to officiate the wedding.”

  Ben had turned bright red. “No, we didn’t,” he squeaked, much to the delight of the boys. He hadn’t even been able to look at Adam for fear of what Adam might think—

  “Not yet, anyway,” Adam had said. Ben heard the pleased tone in his voice, and a quick glance at Adam’s own red ears had confirmed it. The warmth in Adam’s smile said everything.

  Ephraim might have announced his approval in the most embarrassing way possible – but Ben was grateful, because it meant that Adam was willing to go to Ben’s parents’ house the following month for Passover. The bakery was closed for its customary week, and after a few days with Ben’s parents, Ben and Adam split their time between trying to find Adam an apartment and reminding themselves of why they liked Ben’s so much.

  “I am never going to find a shower half this good,” said Adam glumly.

  “Yeah, but you might get heating that works,” said Ben, huddling under the covers with him.

  And in between... phone calls and emails and video chats and pictures flew back and forth so often, it sometimes didn’t feel like a long-distance relationship at all. It was easy to forget that Adam was in a completely different country when Ben was in the middle of his work-day and heard his phone chime three or four times in a row as Adam sent him a photo or a comment or a joke from Pierre.

  Ben’s phone rang just as he was finishing up the dishes in the industrial sink, though not with Adam’s personal chime. Adam was on a plane somewhere above the border, undoubtedly giving sad-face eyes to the flight attendants in hopes of snagging another bag of peanuts.

  “Hey, Sheldon,” said Ben, tucking the phone between his ear and his chin. “If this is about tomorrow night’s dinner—”

  “Now that you mention it. You’re both coming, right? Because I feel obligated to tell you that if you skip out on another team dinner to have sex—”

  The phone nearly slipped from Ben’s shoulder. “We weren’t having sex!” he hissed. “We were looking at an apartment.”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever you want to call it, man.” Sheldon’s voice sounded somewhat distant, and Ben thought he could hear something like wind in the background.

  “Are you driving?” he asked.

  “You’re on speakerphone, Mom, don’t worry. I’m also wearing my seatbelt. So you’re coming? Because the team wants to meet this boy of yours. They’ll kidnap him if necessary.”

  Ben leaned against the wall, grinning despite himself. “Good luck. He’s pretty good with a stick, I hear.”

  “Yeah, but we’re fast, don’t forget.”

  Ben laughed. “We’re coming, don’t worry. We might be a little late because I can’t close up early every night.”

  “Just the night l’amour is moving into town.”

  Ben was very glad Sheldon couldn’t see his blush. “Don’t let Adam hear you mangle French like that.”

  “It’s good for him,” said Sheldon, and then grunted. “Ow.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, just banged my knee. Against something hard. And annoying. Oh, hey, I almost forgot. I got a call from the flour company, they wanted to make the delivery today.”

  Ben froze, hand on the door, ready to leave. “What? They’re not supposed to deliver it until tomorrow. And why the hell did they call you?”

  “Sorry, I guess their numbers got crossed. They said they’d be there in five minutes. Can you hang for that long?”

  Ben sighed and looked around the shop. It wasn’t as if there weren’t things he could do while waiting... but deliverymen often had warped ideas about how long it took to get places.

  They also had an unfailing ability to just disappear if one wasn’t waiting hand and foot for them to arrive. And Ben didn’t have enough flour to last the weekend without the delivery. “Yeah, fine. But it better be only five minutes.”

  “Totally do-able, my man,” said Sheldon.

  It didn’t strike Ben as an odd thing to say until after he’d hung up. Twenty minutes later, Ben had cleared and dusted two of the high shelves where he’d store the flour and was preparing to start on a third when he heard the doorbell at the backdoor go off.

  “Finally,” he grumbled with a last glance at the clock. He’d probably have enough time to check in the order and finish everything upstairs before Adam’s plane landed... but it’d be a close thing, and largely dependent on how long it took for the deliveryman to bring in four pallets of flour.

  Ben opened the door.

  “Delivery!” said Sheldon cheerfully, holding a clipboard and wearing a brown baseball cap.

  Ben stared at Sheldon. “You—?”

  Adam stepped out from behind him. There was a sign hanging around his neck that read Thank you for your order.

  “Hi,” said Adam, breaking into a grin.

  Ben didn’t hesitate; he leaped at Adam and threw his arms around him, hugging him as tightly as he possibly could.

  “Mrph,” said Adam into Ben’s shoulder. “Can’t... breathe...”

  “Sign here, please,” said Sheldon. He held out the clipboard, as if he actua
lly expected Ben to sign for the delivery. “Preferably before you smother him. We don’t accept returns for damaged goods.”

  Ben loosened his grip enough to slide back down to the ground – and the fact that he had to slide at all before his feet touched down almost sent him into blushes again. “You – you rat, you told me you weren’t landing for another three hours! I was going to meet you at the airport!”

  “Surprise,” said Adam. He didn’t seem too inclined to let go of Ben, either. The sign was a rumpled mess between them, crackling every time they moved. “I planned to be here half an hour ago, but traffic was awful.”

  “The flour delivery is still tomorrow,” explained Sheldon. “Would have been the floral version today if traffic had cooperated.”

  “Next time,” promised Adam.

  Sheldon shoved the clipboard at Ben. “Sign, please, for the delivery of one boyfriend with minor injuries.”

  Ben rolled his eyes and took the clipboard. “Fine. What injuries?”

  “Mangling of languages,” said Adam with a grimace.

  Sheldon took back the signed clipboard and handed Ben a sheath of papers. “Your care-and-feeding guide. Remember, regular meals and socialization keep your boyfriend in working order.”

  “Go away, Sheldon,” Ben told him.

  “Thanks for the ride,” added Adam.

  Sheldon gave him a mock salute. “Anytime, my bro, anytime. Do all the things I would do if I swung the way you swing. Except, maybe, on an actual swing, since I doubt this building is up to the necessary codes.”

  “Go away, Sheldon,” repeated Ben patiently.

  Sheldon set off down the alley, whistling with the clipboard under his arm.

  Ben took one look at Adam and flung his arms around him again, not caring a bit about their surroundings. Peeling paint from brick and vaguely smelling dumpsters could have been classic artistic masterpieces and fields of flowers for all he cared.

  “Good surprise?” asked Adam, wrapping his arms around Ben.

  “The best,” said Ben.

  “Good.” Adam turned his face into Ben’s neck and breathed in deep. It tickled Ben’s skin, and he grinned, relishing the feel. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, though, but... maybe, inside?”

  “Oh!” Ben released him. “Are you saying you don’t find the back alley incredibly romantic?”

  “No.”

  Ben chuckled. “Here, shove the suitcases in the kitchen – no need to drag them up when you’ve got a drawer of clothes already.”

  The apartment wasn’t half as bad as Ben remembered it. He’d left the windows open, and the gentle breeze along with the delicious smells from the crock-pot made the entire place seem larger. There were only a few things scattered here and there, books and shoes out of place, as well as the pile of laundry that he’d intended to iron before Adam’s arrival.

  Of course, Adam had seen it all before, many times, and Ben knew that he’d likely be seeing it many times more, even with his own apartment. That had been its own discussion, but they both agreed it was far too early to move in together.

  Yet. A one-year lease didn’t hurt anyone and the one-bedroom apartment they’d found in Somerville was well within Adam’s budget. If nothing else, having it would undoubtedly show them exactly when they were ready for more, when or if they found themselves ignoring it.

  Adam dropped his backpack on the sofa and stretched his fingers up to the ceiling. They nearly grazed the paint, and his shirt raked up enough to show off a couple inches of skin. “Dinner smells fantastic, cher. When’s it ready?”

  Ben had to tear his eyes away from Adam’s stomach. “Not for a few more hours. Someone decided to fudge their arrival time.”

  Adam chuckled. “Worth it, for your face. I wish the flowers had worked out.”

  “You still get points for involving Sheldon. He’s probably tickled pink for getting to prank me.”

  “I gathered. Any apples or bananas?”

  Ben grinned at him. “Hungry?”

  “Starving, tired, sweaty, and cramped,” said Adam. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

  Ben chuckled. “Well, I just finished the dishes downstairs so I doubt there’s much hot water.”

  Adam frowned as the breeze whipped through the room. “Hot water isn’t necessary today. Is it always this humid in Boston in August?”

  Ben laughed. “Oh, man, you are so screwed.”

  Adam pulled off his shirt. Ben swallowed; the two months since he’d seen Adam suddenly seemed much longer in retrospect. “I think I’ll at least rinse off, and then maybe a nap. Join me?”

  A cold shower didn’t sound half so terrible.

  “Uh-huh,” said Ben, following him.

  It didn’t take long to set the temperature to something that was just warm enough to keep them from freezing, but cool enough that Ben knew they weren’t in danger of coming out even more uncomfortable than when they went in. Adam didn’t even bother with the soap; the moment Ben joined him under the spray, he pulled Ben into his arms and kissed him.

  Adam’s warm mouth was the perfect counterbalance against the cold water. Ben wound his arms around Adam’s shoulders. Adam’s skin was damp, slightly sticky with sweat, but it felt wonderful to Ben anyway.

  “I missed you,” sighed Adam.

  “You can stay as long as you like.”

  Adam shook his head. “I’ve got the apartment for a reason, you know.”

  “I know.” Ben rested his cheek against Adam’s chest; why listening to Adam’s heartbeat should be so comforting, he didn’t really know. “Your drawer stays yours, though.”

  “There’ll be a drawer in my apartment for you, too.” Adam kissed Ben’s temple. “My shower may not be as fantastic as this one, but I bet the air conditioning is better.”

  Ben cackled, thinking of the hot and sticky day outside. “Doooooomed.”

  Adam’s hands slipped down and tickled Ben’s sides. Ben squealed and pushed back, but Adam was faster, pulling him back in and kissing him again, long and slow and deep. Ben’s heart began to speed up, his blood quickening in his veins. Adam’s hands moved along his back and his sides. It warmed Ben’s skin even as the cool water cascaded down, bringing goosebumps along his arms and shoulders.

  Ben didn’t want to get out, though – not when Adam was kissing him, pressing up against him. Not when the cold accentuated the warmth in Adam’s skin, pressing them closer and closer into each other. Not when the evidence of Adam’s arousal was pressed against Ben’s. Ben’s surge of adrenaline rushed through him; he leaned hard against Adam, wondering why it felt so right to want to be inside Adam’s overheated skin.

  “Oof,” grunted Adam as his back hit the tiles.

  “You okay?” said Ben into the kiss.

  “Tiles are cold.”

  “You wanted to cool off,” said Ben cheekily. “Stay there.”

  “Huh?”

  But Ben was already moving downward, sucking on Adam’s neck hard enough to leave a mark that would surely fade before the shower ended. Ben thought about staying and leaving a darker one – but he had another goal in mind.

  He kept moving down.

  “Oh, fuck,” breathed Adam. His hands curled in Ben’s hair. “Fuck, Ben, I’m not gonna be able to stay up for this.”

  “That’s my problem,” said Ben, already kissing the divot between Adam’s ribcage and stomach. Adam’s muscles fluttered under Ben’s hands. He was crouched at an odd angle, and he could already feel his calves burning.

  It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, except for the way that Adam’s breaths were hitched. Adam shifted his weight, moving his legs apart to get a better stance against the tiles.

  Oh, yeah. He might protest that he couldn’t stand, but that was evidence enough that he was ready for Ben to bring it.

  Ben kept moving down until his goal was right before his eyes, and the hard tiles dug into his kneecaps.

  “Ow.”

  Adam chuckled. “Et tu, Brutus.”


  “Shut the fuck up and hand me a washcloth.”

  Adam grabbed one of the washcloths from the hook and dropped it down to him. “I was kinda expecting a different kind of servicing.”

  Ben snorted, folded the washcloth in half, and laid it out on the tile floor. It would provide some level of cushioning for his knees, hopefully enough that he’d still be able to walk afterwards.

  But there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to get this far and not do it.

  Adam’s erection hadn’t flagged; in fact, Ben was fairly sure it’d just kept growing through their fumbling. He reached up and held it gently in his curled fingers, relishing the quiet gasp from above.

  There might have been some French mixed into the gasp. Ben wasn’t sure. Eight months of living apart wasn’t quite enough to learn all of the gloriously dirty and descriptive French cursing he had no doubt Adam was capable of teaching him.

  Adam’s cock was warm; Ben suspected his hands were warm from Adam’s skin. The water that rained down on them was pleasantly cool.

  Ben leaned back, opened his mouth to catch some of it. It wasn’t as icy as he would have liked, but it was cold enough that he knew what he was about to do would work.

  “Ben?”

  Ben spit out the water and took Adam’s cock into his mouth.

  Adam let out a hiss.

  Score, thought Ben, pleased. He gave Adam’s cock a long, slow, light suck, hearing Adam’s breaths deepen. Again he took in a mouth of water; again he went for Adam’s cock.

  The murmurs didn’t cease; they just went fully French. Ben licked and sucked at Adam’s cock, careful to stop for more cool water every few minutes.

  “That’s good, that so good,” muttered Adam, fingers tightening in Ben’s hair. “Aw, fuck, that’s... yeah. More.”

  Adam’s skin smelled of sweat and musk and cool water. Ben imagined he could taste two months’ worth of longing on it; or maybe that was just his own desire, buried during the time they’d spent apart, springing to the surface.

  “Ben,” whispered Adam, fingers curling. “I don’t want to come in here.”

  Ben let Adam’s cock slip out of his mouth. “Thank GD. The washcloth does nothing.”