Blaine had already started to hate Friday nights.

He hated the quiet drive home. He hated the empty house. He hated the lack of obnoxious bass thrumming through the ceiling and squawking cartoons and video games. He hated his voice being the only one there, nobody asking him to help with homework or asking for money to go the movies or just screaming 'Get out of my face'.

Tonight, however, he had something to keep him busy. He decided not to put any music on like he normally did. This required concentration, and he knew sooner or later he would have to train himself to cope with silence.

Butter. Sugar. Eggs. He'd bought a vanilla pod especially. He deliberately made a little mess as he sieved the flour. He wasn't sure why. He didn't when he was working. But birthday cakes were supposed to be fun. He remembered baking with the kids when they were younger, Kitty desperate to help him clean up at the end, Zach sneaking licks of the spoon, pulling at Blaine's sweater every five minutes when it was in the oven to ask if it might be ready yet, and maybe he should check again, and 'but Daaaaaad, I'm huuuuungryyyyy'. Maybe he just knew he would need something to do when this was finished.

He added the cocoa gradually, scooping batter out of the bowl and holding the spoon in front of his face so he could watch it drip back down in globs, making sure the consistency was perfect. He could have done this with his eyes closed, but it was for Mai. She deserved a perfect birthday cake. Kurt had shown him the drawings for her room, the same pale green but with vines and trees and animals, and the cake was going to be an edible version of it. He drizzled the batter into the tin, his tongue sticking out slightly as the spirals of mixture disappeared on top of each other. He smoothed over it with the spatula, bending down so he could see over the surface and make sure it was even. He allowed himself a taste of the batter left over, closing his eyes and humming to himself as he savoured it.

He started mixing the frosting as soon as the cake was in the oven so he could get the colours right, all of it as thin as nail polish: green fondant for the base, different greens and browns and blues and reds for plants and animals. He had paintbrushes for each one. Piping it on just wouldn't cut it.

Blaine cleared a space between the bowls of colour before slipping his hand into an oven mitt and the mitt into the oven, sliding the tin out and straight onto the cooling rack. There was something comforting about having all the equipment here he could possibly need. Whatever went wrong, a wonky leaf or a sad-looking monkey, he could fix it. Even if the whole thing got ruined, he could make a new one.

He eased the sponge out of the tin. He'd thought about cutting chunks away to make an 'M', but it felt like a waste of cake. He carefully laid the fondant over the top, pushing any creases out, scoring around the edge neatly. First, he picked up the brown. Trees, dirt, a monkey, an aardvark, a lighter shade for a lion. He left it without a mane. Zach could do that tomorrow. He moved onto the red and blue, painting flowers and birds and a snake coiled around a branch. A thin, brown vine ran all the way around the top, green leaves dotted along it. Giraffes and elephants may not be typical jungle inhabitants, but he painted them on either side of a tiger anyway.

He moved onto the top surface, picking up the pot of white he'd mixed. The zebra was nothing short of a masterpiece. Her stripes showed the contours of her muscles, the curve of her stomach and the joints in her knees, and her hair stuck out in tufts. Her eyes had just enough shine to stop them looking like a cartoon.

He carefully spelled out 'Happy Birthday Mai' in dark green letters, surrounding them with swirls and more leaves.

Blaine took a deep breath and stood back to survey his work. A smile crept onto his lips. He trusted baking. He understood it. He slid the cake onto the flattened box he'd brought home especially and folded it up, slotting the tabs in place as he'd done a thousand times before. He filled the sink with hot, soapy water, washing the left over icing away, wiping down every surface until it was spotless.

He felt acutely aware of his breathing as he surveyed the room. He wished Zach could be a little less tidy. There wasn’t a toy in sight. No evidence of children anywhere. He took a beer out of the fridge, tossing the cap in the recycling without looking, and sat on the sofa. He flicked the TV on and let his head fall back on the cushions with a sigh.

Blaine hated Friday nights.