Ed Sheeran One Shots

Cake

Its been a long day of radio interviews, meet and greets, and other publicity events. As much as I love meeting fans and catching up with good friends of mine like Nick Grimshaw from BBC Radio 1, the days are long, tiring and stressful. So when I get home, the heavenly smell of sweet treats is in the air, and I forget about the tiredness aching in my muscles. 

I hang up my coat, drop my bag on the stairs and kick of my shoes, before wandering into the living room that joins to the kitchen and flopping on the sofa face first, an 'oomph' leaving my lungs.

"Tough day?" Her voice rings though from the kitchen. I groan into the pillow in response. I hear her laugh.

"Well, I'm sure I have something in here that will cheer you up!" I lay there a couple of minutes more, relishing in being able to not move for a while after a busy day, before finally rolling off the sofa and shuffling into the kitchen.

A playlist of cheesy songs from her favourite musicals, like Chicago, Grease, Mamma Mia and Hairspray are playing from the speaker that sits on the windowsill. Her go-to mix of tunes when she's in a good mood. Every countertop has something on it. A half used box of eggs, empty butter packets, milk cartons missing their lids. Icing sugar, flour and cocoa powder are dusted everywhere, speckling the granite surfaces, dusting the grey tiles of the floor like light snow. Seeing her in her element makes me smile. 

She's facing away from me, bobbing to the music slightly. I creep around the island in the middle of the kitchen, and wrap my arms around her from behind. She jumps at my sudden presence.

"Don't do that! I almost dropped the bowl!" She chuckles, relaxing into my hug. I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck.

"What're you baking?" Mumbling into her neck, I feel the goosebumps rise on her skin, making me grin at the effect I have on her. 

"Your favourite! Chocolate fudge cake with honeycomb pieces and salted caramel butter-icing. I knew today would be a shock to the system, as its your first promo day in a long while, so I thought I'd do something to cheer you up!" 

"Just you being here when I get home cheers me up enough!"

"Wow, if I knew you were full of cheesiness I would have made a salted caramel cheesecake!" She looks down at me resting on her shoulder, poking her tongue out playfully. 

"Ha, Ha. Very funny. But you really didn't have to do this!" She swivels around to face me.

"I'm allowed to treat you! You always do things to cheer me up when I've had a rough day, so let me do the same!" And with that, she pokes the tip of my nose with her wooden spoon, leaving a blob of butter-icing behind. 

"Oooh, you are SO dead!" 

Chaos ensues. 

The bowl of icing is put on the counter quickly, before she runs away from me, myself following in quick pursuit. But before I know it, my socks mixed with the powdered ingredients on the floor result in me skidding into the fridge. Her howls of laughter fill the room. Taking advantage of her distracted by my clumsiness, I scramble towards her. Before she can flee, I grab the bow of her apron and drag her towards me, her squealing in delight and nervous anticipation of what I'm going to do as payback. 

I'm near the sink now, and spy a spatular with a nice globule of cake batter on it. I wipe it off with my finger, and smear it on both cheeks like tribal face-paint. She screeches at the cold goop on her skin, and swats me playfully on the arm. Scooping her up I place her on the countertop and plant a huge kiss on her lips. 

"Even." 

"I guess so..." Before I know whats hit me, her hands make contact with my cheeks gently, sending a cloud of flour into the air. She breaks into fits of giggles. I open my eyes, and see my reflection in the window. My face, hair, and shoulders are covered in a layer of flour. Its only now that I notice the bag that is next to her. 

"Sneaky. Fine. You win."

"Yay!" She claps her hands together happily, sending more clouds of flour floating. 

The beeping of the oven timer interrupts her laughing fit.

"Its done!" She hops off the counter, and hurries to the oven, slipping on the oven gloves on her way. I grab some kitchen paper, dampen it from the tap and sit down on a stool, wiping myself clean. I watch her as she bustles around the kitchen. I smile to myself. 

I'm so unbelievably lucky. Its these little things that I miss about her when I tour. The music, the humming, the discreet dancing. The way she sticks her tongue out with concentration as she ices the cake. The quick and nimble fingers working busily away. The way she huffs loose strands of hair from her face that have worked their way loose from her ponytail.

"There! And once we've had dinner, that will be perfect to eat!"

"Dinner? You didn't have to do that too! I could have cooked us something!" 

"So stubborn, Ed! I love cooking for you! Plus, I made your favourite!" Opening the grill, I see a pan of fajitas keeping warm.

"I love you."

"I know."