Eli and Grim stepped out of their office to find Ambrose scowling at the locked basement door. After jiggling it once more to confirm it wouldn’t budge, he looked around as if hunting for a key.

“First they steal my clothing,” he muttered to himself, “then they lock me out of the lab…”

Ambrose wasn’t in his normal flannel, nor his white button-down, nor his spotless lab coat. This morning, he was shuffling about in plaid pajama pants and a fitted turquoise t-shirt—a new one, judging by the tag that swung from the back of his neck. As Ambrose turned to search for the key, Eli caught the bold-faced text on the front of the shirt.

Never trust an atom. They make up everything.

Eli grinned. Forget the beaded tuxedo. He wanted to see Ambrose in this outfit every day of the week.

Still stuck in the hall, Ambrose gave a huff. “It’s not April Fool’s…it’s not Christmas…what the…” He looked up and stared at the door as it clicked in his mind. “Oh no.”

“Happy birthday!” Banneker careened down the hall, arms outstretched. The force of his hug nearly threw Ambrose to the floor. “You like the shirt I got you?”

Ambrose’s grumpy frown melted as Banneker released him, and he held out the hem of the shirt. “This was you?”

Banneker grinned proudly. “Yes.”

“But did you have to steal every other item in my wardrobe to make me wear it?”

“Yes.” Banneker grabbed his arm. “Now come into the kitchen, Sherry’s been baking all morning.”

Ambrose caught Grim and Eli’s gazes for the first time as Banneker yanked him down the hall. Help, he mouthed. Grim and Eli just waved.

“Happy birthday!” Eli called after him. As soon as Ambrose disappeared, he grabbed Grim’s arm. “I didn’t know, I didn’t get him anything-“

Grim rolled their eyes. “Valenz, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. Can I help make dinner, at least?”

“No.” Grim shrugged off his grip and started down the hall. “Just spend time with him. That’s all he wants, anyway.”

As they walked to the kitchen, Eli resolved to over-think that response later.

“There he is!” Sherry’s cherry voice filled the room as they approached. “One year older! Never looks it, of course.”

“Oh, please…”

Eli stumbled over something squeaky, and looked down to find himself standing at the edge of a shiny, colorful sea. The kitchen and living room swarmed with balloons, all bouncing gently over the floor, the coffee table, the couch. Banneker was running around and kicking them as Sherry pressed a mug of coffee into Ambrose’s hand.

“Happy birthday.” She smiled wide and kissed his cheek. Ambrose blushed and looked down at the mug.

“This is all highly unnecessary,” he mumbled, turning the mug to look at the vintage graphic- Snoopy the beagle, in a party hat. He cast a sheepish smile towards the floor. “But…thank you, Sherry.”

“You’re very welcome.” She patted his shoulder, then pushed him towards the table. “Now come on, I didn’t bake muffins just for us to stare at them. Sit.”

#

Eli was still clearing balloons off the kitchen table when the team settled down with their muffins. Grim immediately twisted off the muffin top and handed the bottom to Banneker, who stuffed the entire treat into his mouth all at once. Next to them, Ambrose unwrapped his blueberry muffin in a more polite fashion.

“Are you positive I can’t go into the lab today?” he asked. “If I’m able to make enough headway by the end of the week…”

“It can wait one more day.” Sherry handed Eli a chocolate chip muffin, as if for emphasis. Ambrose ignored the gesture.

“But I’m already a month behind, and you’ve been waiting so long already-“

“We can wait an extra day,” Sherry said firmly. Grim and Banneker nodded alongside her.

Eli suddenly lost all appetite for breakfast.

“Are any of you sick?” He whipped his gaze around the table. “The medical research, is that what it’s for?”

“No, no.” Ambrose waved a hand. “It’s not that. It’s—“

“Not supposed to talk shop on birthdays,” Banneker said, his voice muffled through muffin. Ambrose shot him a look, then set a hand on Eli’s arm.

“I’ve found a group that will take my research and continue it,” he said quietly. “Once I get it to them…we won’t have to keep doing this. We can step away. Start new lives, like Dawn.”

Everyone’s shoulders seemed to lift at the idea, but Eli’s mouth hung open as Ambrose pulled away and returned to his breakfast. All this time, he had never envisioned Icefall ever…not being Icefall. That’s simply not what those sorts of people did. They were in it for life. They didn’t leave. They didn’t want to leave.

Then again, Icefall had never really been one of those sorts of people.

Ambrose glanced back at him and frowned.

“Is that so strange?” he asked. “To want a normal life?”

“No.” Eli closed his mouth with a click, then shook his head. “‘Course not. I, um…” Feeling embarrassed, he stood and pointed at the Snoopy mug. “Sherry’s right. You still deserve to have a birthday, research or no. Want more coffee, Charlie Brown?”

Ambrose handed him the mug. “Good grief.”

#

As Eli brewed more coffee, the rest of the team leaned in to discuss the plans for the day.

“Can we go into town?” Banneker asked. He was working his way through his third muffin bottom, courtesy of Grim.

“No, the last mission was too visible,” Ambrose said. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

Banneker grinned. “How about some games, then?”

“I love you dearly, but I’d rather not.”

Eli tapped his fingers on the coffee pot as he mused. “What about a hike?” The table looked at him, and he shrugged. “The trees won’t arrest you.”

“That sounds nice, but…” Sherry started to gather muffin wrappers. “It’s supposed to thunderstorm today.”

Ambrose’s eyes widened. “It is?”

As if on cue, thunder rolled beyond the pines outside. Ambrose shot up.

“I call the swing!” Before anyone could react, he leapt from his chair, grabbed a blanket and book from the couch, and rushed out to the back porch, sending balloons flying out of his path. Within seconds, he was settled on the porch swing, his shock of blue hair barely visible over a swath of knitted blanket. He sank even deeper as a light rain began to fall.

“Well, that settles it.” Sherry sighed, though her eyes sparkled happily. “Won’t see him for the rest of the day. Eli, will you help me bake the cake? Need to get it done soon, in case the storm makes us lose power.”

“Wait, the birthday cake?” Banneker frowned, batting balloons in her direction. “You sure you don’t want me helping?”

Sherry bopped one of the balloons back at him. “You tried putting hot sauce into Grim’s cake last time.”

“Because I thought they would like it.”

Grim grinned over the top of their fourth muffin. Sherry shook her head and tapped Eli’s shoulder. “Save me from these hooligans and help me make something edible.”

#

Eli’s adventure as sous chef didn’t end with chocolate cake. As soon as the cake was out of the oven, in went cookies. Then more muffins for tomorrow, banana bread, scones…

Eli tried wiping flour off his forehead, only to smear funfetti icing in its place. He had baked like this with Lily and the twins, once—a pie, if he recalled correctly. Half of it had ended up on the floor, the other half on the twins’ faces.

“So, Sherry…” He leaned against the counter, absently rubbing the ache in his chest. “You trying to tell me you’ll be a baker once you get out of here?”

Sherry laughed as she checked the scones in the oven. “You couldn’t pay me enough to do this at three in the morning every day.” After an analytical review of the scones, she closed the oven door and adjusted the timer. “No. First chance I get, I’ll be making my way back to my grandkids. Haven’t seen them in…”

The frown lines on her face deepened, and the ache in Eli’s chest grew heavier.

“Sorry.” He squeezed her arm. “I can guess.”

She sniffed, then wiped her hands on a tea towel and gave him a weak smile. “Come on.” She grabbed a bowl in the sink and scrubbed it harder than was necessary. “Ambrose mentioned you student taught once. What was that like?”

“Oh.” Eli rubbed the back of his head, sinking more icing into his hair. “Ames told you about that?”

Sherry handed him the bowl to dry. “Couldn’t get him to stop talking about it.”

Eli’s cheeks flushed, and he desperately fought it down as he took the bowl and glanced out at the porch. Sherry had been right. Ambrose hadn’t moved from his spot in hours, despite—or perhaps because of—the wall of rain and crashing thunder just beyond him. “Yeah, we…” Eli turned back to her. “We talked about it when he showed me the icefall process.”

“Ah, the icefall.” Sherry dumped soap onto a spatula, its cloyingly clean smell interrupting the notes of cinnamon and vanilla that still hung in the air. The next smile she threw at him was a little stronger. “Suppose that wouldn’t do as a science experiment for third graders, would it?”

Eli laughed. “Yeah, I think I’ll need to stick to baking soda volcanoes.”

They settled into an easy back and forth after that, chatting and listening to music as they cleaned away the evidence of their baking frenzy. Sherry had set her phone to an old swing playlist, and by the time Grim wandered back into the kitchen, she was humming and swaying about the kitchen as she scrubbed at spoons.

“Has the dessert tornado finished?” Grim crossed their arms, then rolled their eyes as Sherry pulled them into her dance. “Am I clear to make dinner?”

“All clear.” Eli tossed aside his tea towel. “What can I help with, Grim?”

“You,” Sherry took Eli’s shoulder and guided him out of the kitchen, “can go get the birthday boy and drag him inside. Can’t have him freeze before he eats the cake we worked hard on.”

“Copy that.”

Eli had become so accustomed to the wafting scents of vanilla and melted butter that when he finally waded through the balloon ocean and reached the porch, he wasn’t ready for the scents that lay beyond. It was all pine and deep river stone, all rain soaking into moss and earth. He had to take a second to breathe it in, letting the swirling storm air cool down his oven-warmed skin.

“Ambrose?” he called as he closed the door, the rain-sharpened breeze already misting his face. “You wanna come in for cake?”

Ambrose didn’t answer. He was lying on the porch swing, his long legs curled up at one end, eyes closed at the other. His blanket had fallen off him, leaving the open book on his chest as his only guard against the mist. As thunder rumbled away across the lake, he seemed to smile in his sleep, even as the storm added a soft sheen to his hair and face.

Eli watched him for a moment, hands in his pockets. Then he pulled on the blanket and draped it back over Ambrose, hoping it would make him a little less handsome.

It didn’t.

“Ames,” he said gently, sitting on the fraction of space left on the swing. “Cake time.”

Ambrose gave an indistinct mumble and cracked his eyes open. “What flavor?”

“Hot sauce.”

Ambrose smiled, then slowly pushed himself to sit, one hand holding his book against his chest to keep it from falling. With his free hand, he reached out to Eli’s face. “I see you helped bake.” He wiped the errant smear of icing off Eli’s forehead, then slowly licked it off his thumb. He gave a pleased hum. “Funfetti. Did Banneker make that call?”

Eli felt something in his brain snap, and he forgot all about Ambrose’s question until he realized he was still staring at his mouth. “Sorry, what?”

Ambrose just laughed and stood, shouldering the blanket. “Come on. Someone told me it’s cake time.”

#

The team’s generous three-course meal of cake, dinner, then more cake gave Eli time to reel his mind back in, until he could almost—almost—ignore the icing incident.

“You did a wonderful job with the cake.” Ambrose stood with his empty plate, then gave Sherry a hug from behind. “Not a hint of hot sauce.”

“Deepens the flavor,” Banneker muttered from across the table.

“I had some help.” Sherry winked at Eli, then dissolved into protest as Ambrose swept away her empty plate. “Excuse you-“

“Let him take it.” Grim waved her off. “We’ll steal the porch swing while he’s cleaning.”

“Yes!” Banneker was first out the door, grabbing the blanket Ambrose had stolen earlier.

Eli stood and took Grim’s plate. “I’ll help clean.” As he gathered up the forks, Grim and Sherry shared a look, then stood at the same time.

“Take your time,” Sherry said quickly. “Storm’s not going anywhere.”

Eli frowned as she closed all of the curtains to the porch, then slipped outside behind Grim. He turned back to Ambrose, who didn’t seem to have noticed.

“I wash, you dry?” Ambrose asked, already puttering about the kitchen sink. Eli resumed his post with his towel.

Cleaning with Ambrose was different than cleaning with Sherry. He didn’t chat airily over the swing music still blaring from the phone, nor did he hum along to its tune. He seemed to be pondering something, his brow furrowed as he finished the last of the plates.

“You seem to be doing an awful lot of thinking over there,” Eli said, nudging his elbow before turning to stack the plates. “Listen, if you’re planning out how to steal some of tomorrow’s muffins, I’m happy to help. The batter tasted too good to let them sit overnight.”

Ambrose smiled and leaned back against the counter as Eli finished cleaning. “No heist necessary. I’m content to wait.”

“Okay.” Eli leaned against the counter behind him to match Ambrose’s posture. “What’s on your mind, then?”

The song on Sherry’s phone faded, then gave way to another swing piece, this one slow and swaying, all buttery winds and muted brass. The vintage buzz of the recording gave the gentle melody a dream-like feel, softening the thunder outside and the sharp edges of the counter under Eli’s fingers.

Ambrose held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

Eli’s heartbeat leapt to his throat. He swallowed it back down and stepped forward, letting Ambrose pull him in and set a hand on his waist. As they began to sway back and forth to the music, Eli caught a whiff of icefall around Ambrose, ever-present even after a day out of the lab. He shuffled just a little closer to breathe it in.

“All right,” Ambrose said, pretending to frown at the room, “what are your observations so far?”

Eli shook his head and smiled. “I tailed that shady character, Sherry,” he lowered his voice and added some rasp to it. “Like you asked.”

The corner of Ambrose’s mouth twitched upward. “Mhm. And?”

“She’s a good baker.”

“Duly noted.” Ambrose nodded. “What else?”

Ambrose’s turquoise shirt caught Eli’s attention once more, and he took a moment to admire the shoulders it stretched over. “You look good in science puns.”

Ambrose clicked his tongue. “Subjective observation, but I suppose I’ll accept it.” He pulled Eli closer. “And the third one?”

As Eli opened his mouth, thunder rumbled once more, and the lights in the cabin winked out. He was left in darkness, with nothing but the music, the flicker of Ambrose’s breath inches away from his face, and the echo of his question.

If he said something stupid now, perhaps the rejection would sting less.

“Let me kiss you first, and I’ll tell you,” he half-whispered, the rasp in his voice no longer an affectation. Ambrose stopped swaying. Eli froze, prepared to back away.

Then Ambrose cupped his face and dipped down. In the pitch black, his first attempt brushed the corner of Eli’s mouth. With a soft laugh, Eli reached up and guided him until their lips met properly—a gentle, hesitant press, with traces of chocolate and icing. Eli kept his hand at Ambrose’s jaw as he pulled away, eyes still closed. “Was that alright—?”

Ambrose dove for another kiss, pressing harder this time. One hand reached for Eli’s hip, the other the back of his neck. Head swimming, Eli leaned in to meet his intensity, his fingers bunching the hem of Ambrose’s shirt, running through his hair. In his eagerness, he tilted too far forward, making them stumble back against the counter—but Ambrose held tight, refusing to break contact. He gave a muffled groan as Eli set both palms on the granite and pressed forward with his hips.

As Ambrose rucked up the back of Eli’s shirt in search of bare skin, the lights flickered back on, and they pulled apart, blinking like owls. Ambrose’s hair was mussed, his lips and cheeks flushed, eyes alight. Eli was sure he looked no different himself as he stared up at the man, arms still locking him to the counter.

“Upstairs?” Ambrose breathed. Eli nodded.

“Upstairs.”