Cakes and quakes

Note that no shrimp were harmed in the making of the story.

The oak bench creaks under Karina’s weight as she tilts her head back, letting snowflakes catch in her wild ginger hair. She stretched her legs, snowflakes landing on the ripped knees of her jeans—those same knees that liked to ache. She watches the snow melt into the fabric, darkening the threads like watercolor blooms. Her tea mug hovers near her mouth, steam curling around her chapped lips as she takes a slow sip. The tartness of the orange tea makes her tongue tingle; she can almost taste the rind left in the brew. The kids’ shrieks faded, and her shoulders finally relaxed.

Her black beanie, pinned with a small lesbian flag, sat loose enough for ginger strands to slip out and catch snowflakes. One lands on her eyelash; she blinks it away without breaking her stare at the gate. The cold seeps through her pants where her hip meets the bench, but she doesn’t move. Just exhales a long plume of citrus steam into the air, watching it vanish. Footsteps pounded against the concrete and skidded to a halt in front of her. Yuri nearly face-planted into the snowbank beside the bench, her twin buns dusted white like powdered sugar. She rights herself at the last second, clutching a crumpled paper bag with one hand while the other braces against Karina's knee for balance. The coconut and wet-wool smell punched through the citrus steam. Yuri gasps, "GOT IT!" Her storm-gray eyes gleam with triumph, thumb hooking the bag open to reveal an avalanche of shredded coconut and carrots. Karina jolted upright with a hissed curse, her knee screaming in protest as Yuri's hand slammed into it. The movement sent her tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim, droplets splattering onto the snow like amber stains. She snatched the crumpled bag with a scoff, fingers curling possessively around the damp paper. "Finally,“ she drawled, dripping sarcasm as she pushed off the bench—only to limp as her left cold-stiffened leg protested

The apartment building loomed behind them, its fogged windows glowing yellow against the morning sun. Karina hobbled toward it without looking back, though her free hand twitched toward her pocket—halfway between digging for keys and reaching back for Yuri's sleeve. Snow crunched under her uneven steps. Yuri stumbled after Karina, boots sliding across the icy pavement, her laughter rising in visible puffs. "Kari~," she sang, voice deliberately syrupy as she caught up, close enough that her peppermint-scented breath warmed the back of Karina’s neck. One finger hooked into the hood of Karina’s jacket, tugging playfully. "Why do you need carrots and coconut, huh? Planning to bribe some reindeer? Or—" Her grin widened, teeth flashing. "Is this another one of your weird art experiments? Gonna glue them to a canvas and call it ‘Winter’s Digestive System’?"

Karina ignored her and chuckled softly.

Snow clung to Yuri’s eyelashes as she leaned in, shoulder bumping Karina’s. Her damp fingers brushed Karina’s wrist, lingering despite the cold. "Come onnn," she groaned, dragging out the syllable like taffy. "You know I’ll just steal a bite if you don’t tell me." Karina snorted, the steam from her tea momentarily obscuring her smirk as she shoved Yuri back—just hard enough to make her stumble into a fresh pile of snow. "You'll see," she singsonged, voice lilting with mock sweetness as she finally wrestled the building door open. Warmth and the scent of burnt toast spilled out into the winter air, along with the distant clatter of pans from somewhere down the hall.

She didn't wait for Yuri to recover, already stomping inside with her uneven gait, but the way her fingers lingered on the doorframe—holding it open just a beat too long—betrayed her. The carrots and coconut bag crinkled ominously in her grip as she disappeared into the hallway shadows, her voice floating back: "And stop licking my ingredients, you feral raccoon." She pointed at Yuri with unnecessary theatrics "Carrots, carrots~ perfect for this raccoon!" Yuri bolted through the doorframe before it could click shut, mittened hands curled into mock-paws near her flushed cheeks. She executed an exaggerated pounce toward Karina’s retreating back, snow melting off her boots onto the hallway’s scuffed linoleum. The borrowed scarf smelled faintly of citrus—and Karina’s refusal to admit she’d lent it.

Her grin faltered momentarily when she noticed Karina’s stiffened gait, fingers flexing like she wanted to steady her. Instead, Yuri snatched a carrot from the bag with a victorious "NYOOM," brandishing it like a trophy before taking a deliberately loud crunch. "Mmm, artisanal," she lied through a mouthful of carrot, waggling her eyebrows.

Karina whirled on her good leg, finger jabbing toward Yuri with theatrical menace. "Hey! I'll sell you for a pelt!" The threat dissolved into a snort as she shouldered her apartment door open, sending the carrot-laden bag skidding across the laminate tabletop. It left a trail of coconut flakes like breadcrumbs—or, given the company, raccoon bait.

She busied herself with the kettle, back turned to the raccoon devouring her carrots. The clatter of mismatched mugs drowned out her quiet mutter: "Better not be crud on my good spatula again, you gremlin." She grabbed a teal spatula from a trail mix container sitting on the far corner of the marble counter. "SOOOOO~" Yuri launched herself at Karina's back, hands clamping onto slender shoulders with the precision of a barnacle attaching to driftwood. She shook with the enthusiasm of a dog spotting a tennis ball, sending Karina's teacup sloshing dangerously. "What're you making!" The words vibrated directly into Karina's spine as Yuri pressed her cheek against the scratchy wool of Karina’s black jacket, breath warm through the fabric. "Is it cake? Soup? A weaponized pie? TELL ME OR I SWEAR I'LL—" Her threat dissolved into giggles as she caught sight of the suspiciously lumpy bag again. Karina barked a laugh sharp enough to startle the kettle into whistling, sleeves shoved past her elbows in one practiced motion. A coiled snake tattoo glistened on her forearm—freshly inked and still red—as she rained flour and cinnamon into a bowl. "Weaponized pie?" she echoed, slamming a square pan down hard enough to make Yuri flinch. The aerosol grease hissed between them like a threat. "Bitch please. I'm making landmine cake."

Her smirk widened as she tossed a whole carrot at Yuri's forehead, already spinning away to rummage for eggs. The pantry door swung wildly behind her, revealing shelves crammed with unlabeled jars—one ominously marked "SHRIMP FROSTING??" in Sharpie. The carrot bounced off Yuri’s forehead with a satisfying thunk, rolling into the growing pile of coconut shreds on the floor. Karina didn’t even glance back as she cracked an egg one-handed into the mixing bowl, yolk splattering like a tiny sunburst. “Landmine cake requires precision,” she deadpanned, flour dusting her beanie as she jerked her chin toward the fridge. “Get the butter. And stop breathing down my neck unless you wanna wear the batter.”

Her fingers twitched around the spatula—partly from the cold in her joints, partly from resisting the urge to brush coconut from Yuri’s hair. The shrimp frosting jar taunted her from the pantry, but she’d die before explaining that sleep-deprived experiment. Yuri gasped dramatically, pirouetting toward the pantry with the grace of a sugar-high ballerina. Her fingers closed around the cursed frosting jar, brandishing it overhead like Excalibur as coconut flakes rained from her buns. "BEHOLD!" she crowed, voice cracking with glee, "The forbidden ingredient rises! Will it be frosting or biological warfare? Only one way to—" The lid popped off mid-twirl, sending a glob of pinkish goo splattering across the floor with a wet splat. She froze, nose wrinkling at the briny, cream-cheese stench now wafting through the kitchen.

Karina’s spatula halted mid-stir, her glare sharp enough to frost glass. Yuri’s grin turned sheepish as she scooped a fingerful of shrimp gunk—then promptly gagged. "Oh god," she wheezed, clutching her throat, "it’s like… seafood smoothie? With betrayal?" The jar hit the counter with a thud, its contents wobbling ominously as she wiped her hand on Karina’s sleeve. Karina's laugh erupted like a bark—sharp and sudden—doubling her over so hard her beanie nearly slid off. Her ribs ached from the force of it, fingers clutching the counter's edge as she wheezed. The spatula clattered onto the mixing bowl just in time for her to snatch the shrimp frosting lid and whip it at Yuri's forehead with startling accuracy. "There's your betrayal," she managed between gasps, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. The smell of citrus and spoiled seafood clung to her sweater now, but she couldn't stop grinning.

She swiped at her eyes with a flour-dusted wrist, shoulders still shaking. "Hope you like salmonella garnishes," she added, voice thick with amusement as she nudged the oozing jar toward Yuri with her boot. "Because guess who's definitely cleaning that up?" Her smirk returned full-force as she turned back to the batter, deliberately ignoring the catastrophe seeping into her floorboards. "Alright, alright!" Yuri groaned, snatching a wad of paper towels from the counter with theatrical reluctance. She crouched to wipe up the shrimp gloop, nose scrunched in disgust—just as the floorboards beneath her knees gave a violent shudder. The jar lid skittered sideways across the tile, she braced both palms flat against the tile. "Whoa—the hell?" Her head snapped up, hair bouncing wildly as the entire apartment building let out a groaning creak loud enough to rattle the mismatched mugs hanging from their hooks.

The fridge door swung open with a haunted-house squeal, eggs wobbling precariously on their shelf. Yuri's storm-gray eyes widened as she caught sight of Karina's spatula mid-air—flung from her grip by the tremor—now embedded handle-deep in the drywall like some kind of culinary throwing star. "Kari," she breathed, voice suddenly stripped of all humor, "tell me you didn'tactually weaponize that cake batter—"The world tilted sideways—or maybe it was Karina’s knees buckling—as the tremor hit again. Karina's eyes locked onto Yuri's crouched form just as the fridge spat out an egg carton with lethal precision. Her pulse jackhammered against her ribs, fingers already digging into Yuri's shoulder before her brain caught up. "MOVE—" The word tore from her throat raw as she yanked Yuri upright and slammed her back-first into the doorframe, their bodies colliding hard enough to rattle teeth.

Plaster rained like grotesque snowflakes as the egg carton exploded against the wall where Yuri's head had been. Karina's grip stayed vise-tight, her other arm braced above them as the building groaned again. The shrimp-frosting smeared between them smelled like low tide and panic. "Not the cake," she hissed through clenched teeth, "but I will weaponize you if you don't STAY PUT."The floor lurched like a drunkard's stumble, sending Karina crashing onto all fours. Her kneecaps cracked against tile just as Yuri's eyes rolled back—her body slumping forward like a marionette with severed strings. Karina's breath came out in a curse, fingers scrambling toward Yuri's wrist, but the ceiling answered first. Plaster and splintered wood screamed overhead before a chunk of debris slammed into her left shoulder like a wrecking ball. White-hot agony spiderwebbed down her arm, teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to taste copper. Through the dust-choked haze, her trembling hand found Yuri's pulse—thready but still there.

She coughed, spitting out grit and something suspiciously shrimp-flavored, as the building's groans subsided briefly. Warm blood trickled down her collarbone into her frayed sweater. "Wake up," she rasped, shaking Yuri's shoulder with her good arm. The words came out jagged, half-prayer, half-threat. "Or I'm frosting your face with that goddamn seafood abomination." Silence. Just the drip of seawater frosting and the groan of strained joists. Karina's jaw tightened—then she hooked Yuri's limp arm over her shoulder with a grunt, knees protesting as she hauled upward. The hallway door hung crooked on its hinges; she kicked it hard enough to send the shattered wood splintering across the threshold. Cold air and distant screams rushed in, but Karina was already stumbling into the chaos, Yuri's deadweight dragging at her spine like an anchor.

Blood streaked the wall where her shoulder brushed it, painting a jagged crimson trail behind them. She barely registered the sting—too busy calculating the distance to the stairwell through swimming vision. "Stay with me, gremlin," she panted, grip shifting to keep Yuri's head from lolling. The scent of burnt sugar and disaster clung to them both. The emergency floodlights flickered overhead as Karina half-dragged, half-carried Yuri down the hall, her own breath ragged in her ears. Every step sent fresh fire through her shoulder, but the distant wail of sirens kept her moving—until her knee buckled mid-landing. They collapsed hard against the wall, Yuri’s head lolling onto Karina’s uninjured shoulder. Her fingers, sticky with blood and frosting, fumbled for Yuri’s pulse again. Still there. Still fighting.

Karina tipped her head back against the floor, staring at the cracked ceiling. "Landmine cake," she muttered to no one, lips twitching despite the pain. The absurdity of it—the shrimp frosting, the tremor, the way Yuri had grinned mid-crisis—hit her like a sucker punch. She shook with silent laughter until it blurred into something wetter, her free hand clutched Yuri’s sleeve like a lifeline. Outside, the first responders’ flashlights cut through the dust as the chaos closed in. They didn’t make it far before the stairwell lights flickered one last time and died, plunging everything into a dim, smoky half-dark. Karina tightened her grip on Yuri, breath ragged, snow-chilled air flooding in from the splintered doorway ahead. Shouts echoed—paramedics, firefighters, the thundering boots of people who actually knew what they were doing.

A flashlight beam sliced through the dust. “We’ve got two!” someone yelled.

Karina sagged against the floor, Yuri’s weight still dragging at her good shoulder. She opened her mouth to call for help—and Yuri groaned. Karina froze.

A beat later, Yuri’s eyelids fluttered open, unfocused but infuriatingly smug. “Ugh,” she croaked, voice barely above a whisper. “If this is heaven, why does it smell like… shrimp?”

Karina laughed, a choked, trembling sound, forehead pressing to Yuri’s temple. “Shut up,” she rasped. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

Yuri managed a weak grin. “No promises.”

As first responders lifted Yuri onto a stretcher, snow drifted through the broken doorway—soft, silent flakes catching in her hair like at the park hours earlier. Karina watched them melt, throat tight.

“You owe me,” Yuri muttered, dazed.

“For what?” Karina asked.

“For a non-explosive cake, you Ogre.”

Karina snorted, brushing snow from her sleeve. “Only if you promise not to frost me with biological warfare.” Yuri muttered quietly as they hauled her up. Karina’s grin faltered into a softer one, eyes glinting. “Deal.“