Wad of paper towel held to his mouth, Kyle sat at Adam and Kate’s counter and awaited the inevitable.

“You okay?” And there it was.

The couple had dispersed moments earlier, Adam to deal with a family phone call, Kate for a bathroom break. And it was Kate who returned first, to find Kyle sitting in shame, looking like he’d just let the school bully lay him out. Defeated.

“Me? Perfectly,” he managed, only getting a small taste of Bounty.

Ryka was the one with the embarrassing problem. Unfortunately, as he was relegated to his passenger position, it was now Kyle’s embarrassing problem.

“Um …” It was plain Kate didn’t believe him, but also feared questioning him. No need to guess why.

Behind the dam of paper towels, Kyle grinned. He nodded toward the oven, its countdown timer indicating that the reason for his current situation was mere minutes from completion. The cookies were almost done.

“Oh. Thanks, then, I guess.”

Even he would admit the cookies smelled amazing. “Mouth-watering” and “drool-worthy” might even be phrases he’d use to describe the aroma. But this was ridiculous. He - or rather, Ryka - was slobbering like one of Pavlov’s dogs hearing the dinner bell.

This was why he hated leaving his house.

Frankly, given that she was pregnant, Kyle had been shocked to be invited over at all. He had expected never to see her again, not to continue to be invited for casual weekend get-togethers. There was no doubt Adam had guessed how hurt both Kyle and Ryka were by his announcements - even though they had done their best to hide their feelings. These visits were his apology. And maybe Kate’s, too.

But it was safer here. Adam still quite willingly came to visit, but ever since Ryka’s confession, Kyle had worried for his friend’s safety. Though Ryka seemed unbothered by Adam’s continued ignorance. In fact, his behavior toward Adam hadn’t changed at all - he continued to make casual passes, all of which were met with varying levels of anxiety.

At Adam and Kate’s, it was a different story; they weren’t often alone. Though even Kyle could sense her urge to flee the demon’s presence, Kate often stuck around to play hostess. Not that the demon was in any way intimidated by the librarian, but if he acted up in any way, the treats would stop coming. And that was unacceptable.

Nearly every week since they had moved in together, she’d whipped up a batch of homemade cookies, sending a few along with Adam’s lunches every day. He’d only had to share with Kyle once, and Kyle with Ryka, for the demon to become helplessly addicted. Much like his libido, his sweet tooth was something to be reckoned with. At least it was keeping him in line, Kyle thought, risking throwing away his paper towels.

His unspoken pleas to calm down had been heard, and he was no longer drooling uncontrollably. Though his sudden reach for the trash can made Kate jump. And drop her oven mitts in a sink full of soapy water.

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“Sorry,” Kyle told her, fishing it out and setting it in the dishrack.

“It’s fine. I have more.” Forcing a smile, she skirted around him and opened a drawer. The smile was gone in an instant. “I thought I did. Hmm.” With the timer down to the final thirty seconds, she frantically checked every other drawer in the room. “Oh no. They’ll burn.”

They both looked at the oven. Ten seconds.

Hell they will. Save the fucking cookies.

“Allow me,” Kyle offered, rising from his stool.

“But ….”

Her arguments were lost in the bleating of the timer. Kyle turned it off and pulled open the door. Truly, he did this at home all the time. He’d been hard-pressed to find a potholder or oven mitt when his mother had come to visit; he hadn’t needed one in years. Adam had seen this trick several times, too, and had long since stopped reacting.

Kate, however, gaped as Kyle casually reached bare-handed into the oven and removed two sheet pans. “Where are these going?”

Eyes wide, Kate motioned feebly at the stove top. Kyle set the pans down. He was trying to think of something to say to ease the obvious tension in the room when Adam returned. He immediately noticed something was off. “You guys alright in here?” In answer, Kyle pressed a fingertip to the corner of one of the pans. Kate winced even when Kyle didn’t. “Oh, yeah. Pretty neat, right?” His casual tone, and a reassuring arm around Kate’s shoulders, seemed to help her relax, at least a little.

“Neat?” she repeated, clearly under the impression a different word - “horrific,” maybe - would be more suitable.

“I also never have to worry about remembering if I’ve turned the stove off or forgotten to lock the door. He remembers for me.” Maybe continuing to casually talk about the benefits of demonic possession wasn’t the best idea, but he assumed Kate would be hung up on this for a while, and hoped a few silly tidbits would make the idea that he was carrying around an immortal, fear-hungry monster a little less traumatizing.

“Oh,” was all she managed in return. That was a no-go on his plan, then.

Eat one now, Ryka urged, directing Kyle’s gaze to the cookies. At least this was a change from staring at Kate. Usually, Adam was the sole subject of Ryka’s focus on their visits. This time, his wife had the unfortunate perk of constant immortal scrutiny.

It was impossible she hadn’t noticed Kyle forcing himself to look away whenever their eyes met. And she surely knew it wasn’t him that was staring. Maybe she was hoping to pacify the demon with the continued supply of sweets, and this reminder of exactly who made them. It was working, but just barely. There wasn’t immediate sinister intent in Ryka’s gazes, but he wasn’t watching out of friendly interest, either.

Stud, focus.

Lost in thought, Kyle hadn’t noticed the conversation had gone on without him. “Sorry,” he said, trying to figure out what he had missed.

Kate smiled. “Just seeing if you want one now.” She had a spatula in hand, ready to lift a cookie from the pan if he did.

“I’ll wait until they cool.”

Kate arched an eyebrow, obviously wondering why grabbing a scalding-hot pan out of the oven was fine, but eating a warm cookie was not. But Kyle’s plan worked this time, directing all Ryka’s ire back at him.

The actual fuck? Eat one.

Chill out or I’ll refuse to take any home, Kyle thought.

Threats of exorcism and Holy water only made Ryka laugh. It was the threat of no desserts that allowed him to keep Ryka in check. No sex would work, too, Ryka helpfully suggested. Knowing full well that Kyle would no longer deny himself, and therefore couldn’t hold out on Ryka.

He’d intended on holding out on this, at least. But those cookies really did smell good. Eager to sneak a taste through his host, Ryka didn’t even risk laughing as Kyle held out a hand. Only a little sheepishly, Kyle asked, “Um, actually, could I have one after all?”