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If I Could Bake It Into Words

By Coldstone

On the streets of Podunk, Oklahoma sat a bakery. Its walls were a simple, unimpressive slab of stained white-gone-gray, and its surrounding neighbors were not much more impressive in comparison. The streets and sidewalks were aged and cracked, with bits of stubborn grass and weeds doing their best to try and bust through and take the place back over. Traffic was sparse, both by car and by foot.

Inside that bakery, and indeed, in all the other stores of that block, the insides were older fashioned, but stubbornly determined to be alive. The owners and their employees carried on with the uneventful days, giving their traditional greetings to all who wandered in through their doors, and, when they could get away with it, would slip out shiny smartphones to pass the time.

Except for those that always seemed to keep busy, of course.

“Here you go, Mrs. Cully; one Very Special Day Cake."

Inside the white-plastered shop, with its ever present smell of bread and doughnuts, a blond-haired young man, bound in an elaborate hair net, beard cover and apron of a baker, carefully sat out a tray. On it sat a fudge-filled, chocolate slab decorated further with yet more chocolate frosting. The delicate sculpture of sugar and cocoa displayed expertly shaped words accented with touches of red, blue and yellow: Happy 11th Birthday Mikey!

Mrs. Cully's face lit up, hands clasped together in front of her as if beginning a prayer. She looked up at the baker with a grateful smile. “Oh, Lyle, it's perfect! And you got it done on such short notice too! I was so worried everything had gotten screwed up because I called late and..."

Lyle gave her a broad grin as he put the protective lid back over the cake. “I aim to please, Mrs. Cully. I just started baking it at home rather than worry about starting it here in the morning and that fixed everything right up. What else am I going to do at home; practice rocket science? It's Mikey's birthday after all."

They traded a few more words—praise and compliments, well wishes and happiness—until Mrs. Cully finally made it out the door, minus an extra tip for the trouble. A red haired woman with a similar look to Lyle came out from the back of the store and smiled. “She sure took a liking to you, 'Lyle." Emily put an extra emphasis on his name, looking particularly amused. “I bet she would have invited you to the party if you had asked so you could have some of the cake too."

Lyle stuck his tongue out at her as he carefully picked up the change, bit by bit. “No thank you. I'd probably end up as part of the entertainment if I did. Not sure I'm really a kid person." The money then fell from his hands into the tip jar, before being rubbed together to brush off hints of lint or debris. “Nice to see a smile instead of a bored look though."

“You could get lots of smiles and laughter as the entertainment, though! I'd be curious what you'd wear as a clown." Emily's grin threatened to show every tooth, even as she bit her thumb trying not to laugh. “Maybe streamers in your hair? Giant shoes with fluffy pom things on the tips? Do you prefer suspenders for the pants, or an oversized belt?"

He could only shake his head in mock solemnity. “Emily, Emily. We both know that I am no clown. Only someone that could think up the outfit could truly be fit to wear it." Lyle bowed his head in her direction, a hand to his chest as he exaggerated the significance. “But let it not be said I won't come along to bear witness to your magnificence, and record it for internet posterity for all to enjoy."

It was her turn to stick her tongue out at him after a good laugh. “Whatever! Only if you came dressed as a fast food mascot! The one with the pigtails!"

“Fair enough. Someone has to wear the dress in this business." On a hunch, he turned his wrist up to check his watch: His break was just about to come up.

“You ready to switch out for a bit? Any buns or eggs in the oven?"

That got him a glare, though her smirk dispelled any worries of claims of insult. “Maybe you if you can't think up a better joke." She gave him a gentle-yet-exaggerated shove as they switched places. “Not like I'll have anyone distracting me from getting something out if there is. You go enjoy your breather. Fan's already on."

Lyle's eyes lit up at that, hands already picking at a button of his uniform as he made his way back toward the break room. Three such buttons were undone by the time he had reached the door when he heard Emily's voice again.

“Ah, shit..."

He paused just at the threshold, deftly turning and doubling back just far enough to bring Emily back into view. “Something wrong?"

She looked back to him with a grimace. “Yes. It's him." She didn't gesture, but she did flick her eyes towards the front door.

Outside, a man they were both familiar with exited his car. In one hand he carried one of their doughnut boxes and on his face a habitual-looking scowl.

“How I wish someone would give him a random bite in the ass..." Emily muttered, then focused on Lyle. “You go and take your break. I'll be fine."

Lyle, however, fixed up his buttons as he came back to the register. “Or, I could deal with him first, then go on my break, so I can cool off my head and my body." he smiled and gestured with his thumb to the back. “Hide out back there and you don't have to deal with him. You get him more than I do, so let me help balance it out a bit."

Frowning in thought, Emily looked between him and the door. Their mooch had his phone out, but it wouldn't be long til he actually came inside. The frown shifted into a look of guilty relief. “Okay. Thanks a lot. Don't punch him unless he really deserves it, okay?"

Lyle gave her a reassuring grin as she slipped by. “It's not a problem. Just save me one of those blueberry doughnuts for later."

Now it was just him and the mooch, their phone stowed away and reaching for the door handle; Lyle readied himself for the potential argument, wondering what he would want this time.

Given it's a doughnut box, more doughnuts. Probably the premium ones, but I bet if he actually has something, I can haggle it down to half a chocolate glaze or maybe some Ursa Rings...

The jingle of bells echoed from above as the door opened. The Mooch's gaze went straight to him as he approached the counter, holding out the box in hand. “I have a complaint," he started without preamble, “Someone's hair is in my doughnuts."

Inwardly, Lyle winced; It was perfectly possible, despite the various nettings they wore, for a hair to escape and get into the food. It couldn't be helped, and they did try their best to catch them if possible. Still, he couldn't just take The Mooch's word for it, so he turned the box around and lifted the lid. Sure enough, he could see the couple hairs in question, and while they weren't baked into the doughnuts themselves, they were stuck in the glaze of one in particular. Technically they were also touching another doughnut by proxy, but what mattered was they were there.

They were also blonde hairs.

Looking back up to The Mooch, he could see the determined look on his face. He knew exactly what he was thinking: Lyle's hair was blonde, visible even under the hairnet he wore. Even though The Mooch also had blonde hair of a similar cut, it made more sense that they had gotten there when they were made, not from when they were purchased. The Mooch probably had a legitimate case.

Or thought he did, at any rate.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid those are your hairs, or someone else's not from here. I can't actually do anything about that." he began, “But if they're only on the one doughnut, I can get you a fresh one to replace it to make up for the trip at least."

The Mooch stared in surprise for a moment, then his face reddened. “The hell they're mine. Why would my hairs be cooked into a doughnut?"

“They're not, sir. They're stuck in the glaze on top. It could have easily fallen in at one point the box was open and you didn't notice until now."

“You have blonde hairs." The Mooch had a finger pointed at him now, “It's more likely to be yours since you actually handle them before they end up in the box."

“That's not possible, sir." Lyle simply smiled, shaking his head.

“And why's that?"

“Because..." Lyle leaned in closer. An abrupt 'spark' appeared ahead of his face, black with a hint of red, stretching backwards as it spread and grew. His face became engulfed, distorting his features as more specks of strangeness appeared about him to shift and change. Shoulders and arms both shrank and grew as human form seemed to fight with itself. The netted beard vanished, the blonde hair became a shocking red mane with black highlights that seemed to grow all the way to the floor, netted in a much larger cover than before. The last visible part The Mooch saw was the human hands becoming a set of red claws, fitted in a set of gloves to match the uniform.

The Zoroark gave him a moment to take it all in.. “... If it was, we'd both definitely know it."

The Mooch just nodded weakly.

“Would you like me to get you a replacement doughnut for your troubles?"

“Y-yes, please..."

Deftly switching out the doughnut with a pair of claw tips, Lyle bid The Mooch a nice day as he left. Emily slipped back out to watch as he hurried to his car and pulled away in record time. “Well jeez; he was sure in a hurry to leave." The tone in her voice gave away how she actually felt about that. “Did you use a Pokemon move on him or something?"

Lyle snorted, taking a step back from the register so they could switch places. “Don't think so, though I imagine when you have a face like mine staring at you, you'd think twice about arguing back. Even if it's wearing a hair net." He reached up to carefully unbutton his uniform again with his claws. “So you think you'll be safe enough now that I can go stand in front of the fan?"

Emily stuck her tongue out at him like before, though he wanted to say it was with a dash of pity mixed with amusement. “Yes. You go and enjoy your break, Pan. You more than deserve it. Make it a double; It's slow today, and I don't want to have to mop you up if you melt from overheating."

Pan. The real name of Lyle, the Zoroark disguised as a human baker, gave a small flourish and a bow. Before they could be distracted by further silliness, he turned and hurried toward the break room, quickly working the rest of his buttons loose before he even made it through the door.

Planting himself down on a folding chair, he opened the folds of his uniform top towards the industrial fan sitting on the floor, aimed specifically for the occupant of whoever sat on that blessed seat. In an instant, Pan's top inflated, catching the breeze and coiling it around the voluminous amount of black fur contained within. It actually wasn't that much, but compared to a human, he looked like he was wearing a black, bunched up sweater on the upper half of his torso on top of a thinner black sweater or shirt.

Essentially, like someone who had a death wish with heat stroke by wearing way too many layers of heat absorption while working around hot ovens, and wearing a baker's outfit on top just to make it a little harder.

Pan at least had the advantage of the fact his body was designed to deal with some of that heat, and while the uniform did smother a bit against his fur, no one took offense to him opening it on his breaks so he could get some proper ventilation to cool off. If anything, Pan actually wished he could take advantage of that perk a little bit; maybe pose a little in case Emily came back through for some reason, maybe admire him on the sly...

After all, a Zoroark dressed in a stuffy outfit with several weaves improvised to restrict every bit of fur not covered and looking like he had an entire hairy leg growing out the back of his head totally looked sexy, right?

Stupid logic, busting daydreams. Pan grumbled quietly to himself as he shifted back against the chair, closing his eyes and letting his focus fixate on the refreshing chill of the airflow.

At some point during his cooling reverie, his ear tipped towards the door. He opened his eye to find Tobias entering with a bag. He gave a nod of acknowledgement and got the same back, closing his eye again. “Been a slow day. Mrs. Cully loved the cake. The Mooch showed up. Managed to talk him down to a simple replacement. Might have traumatized him. Emily told me to take a double. We got anything special we need to prep for?"

Tobias made his way over to the refrigerator and opened it up. The low hum of the engine inside droned pleasantly in the background. The chilled air drifted outward, some of it catching into the breeze of the fan and blowing it in Pan's direction. “Nothing new, though I think we'll get a few more cake orders for the week. Some other birthdays in the neighborhood that are fond of ice cream cakes." A sudden metallic *click* cracked the air, releasing pressure hissing violently; Tobias had grabbed a soda from the fridge. “Don't think I did one of those with you yet. Have you worked with ice cream cakes before?"

Pan shook his head, but his ears perked in alertness. Tobias was a classic set of contradictions for a human: On the older side with grayed out hair, save for a sliver of what was red or brown at the edges. Taciturn, but not shy about giving solid advice or guidance if asked. He had explained and taught Pan how to make several different baked goods since he had started working there, despite the fact he had declared how weird it was to have a Dark Type pokemon wanting to bake. He liked the combination because it reminded him of a comedian he knew on television with a 'grumpy' old man puppet.

He was also Emily's father: Tobias Oarmin.

“They're a pain in the ass, but people love'em. We usually buy premade stuff and go from there, but if we get an order in, I'll go over the basics while you prep it." Tobias took a long swing from his soda, then made his way for the door. “Make sure you don't shed everywhere."

That was another Tobias trait, ending conversations promptly if you didn't say anything fast enough. Pan let out a small snort as he adjusted his top. “Will do."

Tobias was another reason that he didn't dare consider flirting more seriously with Emily. He was pretty sure that even if the grumpy demeanor didn't actually have a problem with Pokemon having jobs or doing things like baking, he would still be old fashioned in the sense of anyone trying to date his daughter was going to get the 'I have a shotgun' treatment. He had heard some of Tobias's rants about Emily's previous boyfriends, and the main theme seemed to revolve around 'lazy, unmotivated slugmas.'

Emily definitely didn't appreciate him bringing that up around Pan, but that more likely had to do with being in public than Pan in particular, and he couldn't blame her for that preference. Everyone had their demons, after all; even him.

When his break finished, Pan buttoned himself back up, slipped on his illusion of Lyle and went out to help Emily and Tobias handle the store. It was easier pretending to be human when it came to interacting with customers, not simply because one look at his giant mane immediately made everyone assume he'd get hair in all the food (not untrue, but easily solved with a judicious use of hair nets and meticulous grooming), but also due to his nature as pokemon.

Most Dark types were typically seen as either trouble makers, pranksters, or otherwise wild (none of which really described him at all). They certainly didn't take jobs baking doughnuts like he was (at least, as far as he was aware), and they most certainly did not dress themselves in harsh white uniforms that compressed their popular appearance while throwing on lunch lady hair netting.

Maybe I did use a pokemon move on The Mooch after all; I probably looked like an angry lunch lady from his childhood.

Despite the last two issues, Pokemon who came in to make an order were just as bad as the humans. More than once he had seen them holding back a laugh or a grin when they saw him dressed up to regulation. Most of them were apologetic about it if they could be, but a surprising few others were less concerned about how silly he looked and were more interested in trying to seduce him.

“So, uh. Is there a special price for putting buns in the oven?" One Golduck asked, embarrassed yet excited by their own audacity.

He had actually had a promising conversation with a Lopunny before she had caught him off guard with a straight-forward, “So does that mean you'd prefer me cream-filled, or you'd prefer adding some frosting?"

They had a successful looking Kadabra, fancy suit and all, show up one time, that seemed quite impressed with his choice of occupation as well as their selection. It had even been a matter of pride to Tobias that she (or possibly he. Pan wasn't entirely certain), had made such sophisticated commentary about their goods. He had completely missed her (him?) psychically slip a note with his(her?) number into Pan's hair net with a message: 'If you offer private lessons, I would be interested in seeing how good you are at 'breading' things. Distance won't be a problem.'

“Oh, you even make sausage wraps!" An Umbreon said excitedly. After purchasing a half dozen in a bag, she had given him a strange look before putting the bag down, tail wagging slightly, and asking, “I don't suppose I could trade you a moon pie for one more?"

The most embarrassing part of that last one was the fact Emily had overheard. He couldn't tell if she was red in the face from being scandalized, or trying to hold back laughter. He had been too shocked to really want to know, neither of them had said a thing about it, and the next day he presented his Lyle disguise.

From that day on, the flirting was much less frequent and subdued. Very few knew he was the Pokemon in the bakery, so even though they could usually smell one there, they didn't assume a Zoroark under an illusion. And if any of them had a means to see through it, they had all taken the hint and not said anything about it.

Emily had gotten a little annoyed over mixing up his names for the first few weeks, though.

The day progressed into the late afternoon, customers came and went. Everyone took their breaks, checking up on idle gossip on their phones or cooling off in front of the fan (pretty much the default for Pan). It was boring, but idyllic.

Then one of their more entertaining customers showed up.

With a bounce in his step and a quiet whistle on his lips, a Typhlosion stepped through the door. Save for a collar with a pouch attached to it, he wore nothing else, which left nothing to the imagination when he stood upright as he was; Many Pokemon reveled in 'walking upright' around humans, especially if wasn't readily available clothing fitted for their body type; it made a great way to tease them about their insecurities on casual nudity. Though whether Jack did so because he liked to tease or because it was just habit was a different question entirely.

“Top of the afternoon to you all!" He gave them a wave as he sauntered up to the counter, propping an elbow on it as he focused in on Emily and Pan. “Slow day going?"

“Quiet town, quiet days." Emily answered back, smiling back to him. “Afternoon, Jack. Are you here for a little bit of everything or something special today?"

Jack took a moment to scan over the display case. “I'll take a little bit of everything, please." He pushed up from the counter and reached up to fish his wallet out of the pouch. “And slip in a Spicy Cookie if you got any, please. I need something for my sweet tooth so I won't eat them all on the way back."

Pan turned and started gathering Jack's usual assortment of choices while Emily let out a soft laugh. “I bet you have fancier desserts up there at the Cafe to eat. You're probably going to devour the cookie because it's the one thing you don't make." She rang up the order as she talked. “You sure you don't want a full box of spicy cookies, so you can have another for later?"

“Why Emily; I do think you're trying to fatten me up!"

The two bantered onward from there. Jack had no problem making casual conversation that sounded like more than just idle chatter you'd have with a stranger, and if you didn't know that he was the owner (or at least someone very important) of the Pleasure Resort (a.k.a. brothel) Cafe Plaisir, he'd seem like a perfectly innocent Typhlosion walking around upright without anything but a sort of collar with a pouch for carrying valuables.

Of course, they did know, and that was part of what made Jack's charisma terrifying as it was impressive.

And that just made Pan jealous for a number of reasons.

He brought Jack's order to the register, and they all confirmed the contents. A quick swipe of the card and a receipt later, everything was neatly packaged and sealed for easy carrying. “You know," Jack spoke up as he was about to turn for the door, “If you want to tempt me with more cookies and sausage rolls, we might consider setting up an arrangement, maybe two deliveries a week, and one of you or someone else could just drive them up to us?" He offered a big grin and waggled his eyebrows. “We can even make a secret knock and pretend you're smuggling me sweets, and you can share scandalous stories about the strange things you see in the windows for the gossips."

“We can make it a regular arrangement if my father is okay with it and knock on the door like everyone else does." Emily said politely, managing to keep her face from going beyond a smirk. “So if you want to make a more official request for it, I suggest you make a list and bring it with you the next time you stop by."

Jack laughed. “He'd probably burn it on principle. Maybe I'll suggest Lyle or whichever Pokemon you have working make the delivery so it has a chance." With that he turned and made his way out. “Have a good day!"

Lyle tried his best not to glare at the back of the Typhlosion, caught between trying to figure out if he had actually been flirting, or if it had just been a jovial business proposal. Once Jack was out of view he managed to reign in some of his anger, but he found his attention turned to Emily as she let out a big sigh. “What's wrong?"

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I couldn't tell if he was hitting on me or being serious there." she echoed his thought, idly fanning herself as she seemed to ponder more. “Pretty sure Dad won't let me drive up there, nevermind the fact I'm my own woman, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable driving up to a brothel, even to drop off doughnuts. You think you'd have any problem with it?"

In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think there was a different question being asked: Have you ever been to the Cafe? Saying he'd be fine with it (which he wasn't sure he was), would suggest he was interested in those sorts of services. That just stepped on too many complicated land mines he didn't want to have to debate, let alone discuss. “Bit of a moot point; I don't have a driver's license, remember? Tobias would have to drive up there, or at least drive me up there to drop them off."

As if his name had summoned him, Tobias walked up behind them both, drying his hands on a towel. “Drive you where? I'm not a taxi service."

Emily grinned at that. “Jack was just here, from the Cafe. He mentioned making an arrangement of food to be delivered twice a week and paying for it. What do you think?"

Tobias snorted, then turned around to head to the back again. “When he comes back wearing some bloody pants, then we'll talk."

Lyle turned to look at Emily, and they both couldn't help but grin at that.

---

Without a license to drive, Pan walked to and from work every day. That wasn't so bad, assuming the day wasn't overbearingly hot or raining, but now and then he wished he could afford an actual car; or maybe a motorcycle. The idea of the wind in his mane definitely had appeal, but it was less practical to the car.

And the car has AC, and protects you from the rain. Motorcycles, not so much.

With practiced ease, he inserted the tiny key into his apartment door and let himself in, falling into his basic routine for getting home: His duffel bag with his uniform went on the coat rack along with his white shirtfront—The quote of the day being 'What's the point of this thing again?' His khaki cargo shorts were promptly unfastened and separated from the tufts of leg fur that stuck up through the modified side pockets, gravity doing the rest of the work of dropping them to the floor as he made his way to the couch in front of the coffee table, kicking them off to the side; He had no shoes to worry about fumbling with for the process. His last article of clothing was a gray colored jockstrap with a dark green pouch, bulging and even jiggling obscenely by human standards, but that he left on.

Carefully falling over the arm of the couch, he flopped onto the age-worn cushions of an indeterminate brown or green and sprawled out. His mane floated down onto his body, covering all but the edge of a muzzle, an arm, and the lower part of his legs dangling off the side. The pointed red claws of his toes flexed and curled, kneading at the air.

Slow days sucked, but another day, another dollar.

He reached out blindly for the coffee table, feeling around for the TV remote until the familiar plastic was found.. Gradually he rolled over onto his back as he turned on the small, flat screen electronic, mane neatly shuffled beside him. A miniature human in a suit chattered with two other humans in similar attire, going over a variety of topics from politics to weather: They had nothing new to really tell him, other than confirming that the unusually temperate weather they were having would be going back to muggy soon and everyone should stay hydrated.

Pan grumbled at that information, scratching at his chest and belly idly as he changed the channel. “Lovely. I get to overheat outside and at home some more." His claws continued to work in slow, circular motions as he went from station to station, but he found nothing of interest at this hour. Defaulting to his usual cooking channel and setting the remote down, he switched his focus inward, pondering his day of work.

Jack had caught him off guard, and he hadn't liked it. Much as Pan hated to admit it, he was jealous of the Typhlosion for several stupid reasons: Jack had a successful business (effectively rich), while he was just some hired hand at a little bakery with economic luxury choices (and mediocre AC). Jack ran around naked as the day he was hatched; Pan not only needed to dress up for the baking, but not wanting to risk trouble, dressed up outside of that—Although he did enjoy changing the quote on his shirtfront. Jack could (and probably did) get his choice of action and could flirt with practically anyone, but Poor Pan couldn't even figure out how to deal with a crush on his boss's daughter, assuming she'd even accept his interest, and he actually got annoyed at others flirting with him!

Granted, maybe if he went out socializing instead of staying home, but that needed more money, or confidence, or...

He redirected his internal grumblings back to Jack, the offer to Emily in particular.

It was basically an invitation to visit the cafe, for business, or pleasure, or both. He thought to himself, claw tip now tapping pensively against his stomach. I'm fucking jealous because he got to make a pass at her before I did.

So what was he going to do about that?

The most obvious answer, as he watched various berries being put into a blender on the screen in front of him, was to get Emily interested in him before she took an interest in Jack—or anyone else for that matter. That would only work if she was actually open to the idea of dating a Pokemon, however...

Spurred on by a moment of inspiration, Pan pulled himself from the couch and stepped over to the nearby wall. He looked over its blank, featureless span of off-white color and concentrated his mind on the cheap, simple wall mirror back at the Bakery; the thing that looked like little more than reflective plastic drilled directly into the wall, but was still perfectly good as a reflective surface.

In almost an instant, that mirror showed up on the wall, displaying the concentrating Zoroark face back to its owner. Pan smiled, then nudged its dimensions so he could see his entire body in it. That had worked out even better than he had thought it would!

Now that he had the expanded view, he looked himself over, picking at his mane and fur to try and get it into a less disheveled state from when he had undressed and rolled on the couch. Next came the smile—the ladies always wanted a confident smile, right? The full grin looked way too artificial, or predatory; making it smaller toned down the scary, but it still felt fake. Did the marks of red at the back of his cheeks and the rest of his face detract from his looks, or did they help? He tried shrinking and expanding the color with illusions, then removed it outright. It wasn't until he realized that such an obvious change would probably confuse Emily that he gave up on the smile to work on something else.

“Hey," the deeper, smooth voice echoed from his lips to the reflection before it. “Have you ever thought about what it'd be like on my red rocket?"

Through the mirror, the Zoroark in nothing but a gray-and-green jockstrap looked back at him with a sultry look, one hand on his hips. For a moment, he seemed pretty enticing, until the line went through his head again and he realized just how graphic it was. The sultry look went to embarrassed, then annoyed, then flustered as he tried to think of something less explicit.

“I like your eyes. They're always cheery looking."

Still awkward, but at least it sounded more wholesome than an outright proposition.

He tried several more lines, poses, and even a few illusioned sets of his clothes to see if being in a less suggestive state of dress was part of the problem. While the clothes did help, everything he could think of to say that might lead the way towards romance or feelings just felt too damn awkward, or embarrassing, or both. He ended up throwing himself back on the couch, cursing himself for not getting more practice in smooth talking. He even considered the pro's and con's of asking Jack for suggestions, though he would probably only use that as a last resort, if at all.

Flummoxed on what to do, he ended up flipping through the TV channels again. Nothing fit his mood (not that he wanted to watch something depressing), and nothing seemed to distract him from it, so he went back to the cooking channels again.

And Serendipity struck: Like a Farfetch'd finding the perfect leek, the answer spoke up before him.

“For example, my wife loves Cheri berries," The cook on the TV elaborated. “So for our anniversary I always try to make something that uses them. Cookies, a cake, even cupcakes! I did them once as poffins, but Reggie found out and ate them all up, the glutton!"

“Of fucking course!" He slapped his hand to his forehead. “Of fucking course. How did I not think of that myself? Make her something especially for her, or more than one special thing for her, and build up to it..."

The idea had merit, but he couldn't just make anything; whatever he made would have to be unique and special (because being a baker herself, she wouldn't be impressed by any regular thing), but not so special (at least at first) that it seemed like he was being too forward.

But what to start with? And what to end with as far as getting serious goes...

Half formed ideas flitted through his head as he watched the TV a little longer. He wasn't on a strict deadline that he had to get this done by tomorrow, or even the day after, but he definitely wanted to start soon so he didn't lose this spark of motivation.

So he flipped the TV off and retreated to his room to boot up the ancient laptop; If there was one bit of wisdom that everyone knew, it was that what you couldn't find on TV, you could eventually find on the Internet.

We'll see who's the envious one, Jack!

---

Pan found himself glad he had decided not to rush his big plans into just a couple days; His first gift for Emily ended up being just as delicious (and useful) for him as it was for her due to an unexpected snag.

Four days of research, careful questions of Emily's favorite foods and expensive, experimental food-making later also brought with it the renewed muggy weather that Oklahoma favored. That meant the walk to the would Bakery now involved slowly smothering him with humidity in the morning and then outright baking him in the afternoon when he went home.

This being the first day of it, however. Pan had a small reprieve from the torture, but it left him off guard for the surprise waiting for him when he entered the Bakery.

Hot air slammed into his face as the jingle of the bells above the door sounded. Before he could say anything, a disgruntled Emily appeared and gave him a wave, and that told him everything he needed to know. “The AC decided today was a good day to die, I take it?" He pressed on slowly, feeling an almost tangible air of hanging heat in the room as he did so. “Did any of the others go with it?"

“No, thank Arceus," Emily walked ahead, joining him in the break room. From area to area, she had arranged a fan at full power to help circulate the air. She picked up another to situate somewhere else when they arrived. “But I had to check everything and figure out where Dad left the number for the usual repairman. He'll try to squeeze us in today to take a look, but seeing as he was the one that told us we needed a new unit..."

Pan sighed and sat his bag into an open chair, “We'll probably have to get a new one, which will take almost as long to get as just having a repair, if we're lucky." He motioned towards the fridge, inquiring if it was still okay. Getting a nod, he put away his lunch for later and—lest it melted in the heat—the gift he had made for Emily. He hadn't intended for her to see it so soon, but there wasn't much choice in it.

“What's that?" Her curiosity was obvious, especially given he had put it in a little white-and-pink box

“Well, it was going to be a surprise, but given it might melt if I wait..." He opened the box and held it out for her to see: Inside, a pink, semi-transparent bag sat open, revealing several cookies. Each piece was a white, circular disk, about the size of a human thumb tip, with a protruding pink dot in the center of each. “It's a recipe I tweaked from the Internet. Figure you might like to give it a try."

Emily put the fan she had picked up back down, focused on the little sweets. Intrigued but clearly wary for some reason, she reached in and picked up a piece. Thankfully they hadn't melted from the walk over, but instead of putting it in her mouth, she looked it over more closely. “So you're having me taste test it first in case you messed up?"

Now her wariness made sense, and he snerked. “No. I tried them already and thought they were pretty good. Just sharing the love—so to speak." Pan hoped the moment of panic that jumped into his throat didn't show in his words as he recovered. The expression of that sort of interest was supposed to come later, not now! “If we're going to be stuck here in this heat all day, we're probably not going to have much of an appetite for anything but ice cubes."

The clarification made her expression clear up instantly, transforming that frown to a delighted smile. “Well, in that case." She slipped the sweet into her mouth and chewed. As he watched her expression, he could practically tell what part of the flavors she was experiencing from moment to moment. A combination of Rawst berries with Occa berry extract, combined with several other ingredients to create a bitter-yet-sweet twist that caressed the tongue while also providing a cooling sensation, traveling down the throat while also filling the mouth with a faint, icy aftertaste, if only for a few seconds.

Much like when he had first tasted one, her face changed from curious delight to surprised pleasure. “Oh," she almost moaned the word, reaching up to feel at her throat as she kept chewing. “Wow. That's amazing!" She reached for another, which left Pan beaming at the response. “This is just what we need. Try one!"

He hadn't been expecting that. Next thing he knew, he had her fingers in his mouth, pushing the sweet onto his tongue while he made a muffled noise of surprise. He tried his best not to nick her with his teeth, but once her fingers were free, he obliged her insistence and chewed the sweet himself. The reason for her sudden sharing quickly showed itself when the cooling effect went beyond just his mouth and throat, but seemed to tickle through the rest of his body.

For the moment, he didn't mind the fact that the Bakery seemed a bit hot. The mugginess from before became more subdued, and the sensation didn't seem to fade away.

Had he accidentally made some sort of anti-heat candy? “Huh. That wasn't that effective when I first tried it." He put the rest of the bag and its box into the fridge now—Just because they weren't feeling the heat anymore, didn't mean the same was true for the sweets. “Do you feel much cooler now too?"

She nodded in confirmation. “Definitely! This is a major improvement." She turned towards the industrial fan native to the break room and stepped into its path, her outfit fluffing up and billowing in the breeze and sending her hair wildly upward. “Even this feels refreshing, but a little muted too!" Demonstration accomplished, she stepped back out with a grin. “I hope these last a while."

“Me more so; you're not the one wrapped in black fur." Pan let out a chuckle, then picked his bag back up. “I got to change into my uniform. Try not to get in trouble while I'm gone. Just because we're not feeling the heat as much now doesn't mean we can't be careful around the rest of the stuff here: We'll have a harder time judging the temperature of the ovens if this sticks around!"

He got a nod of acknowledgement for the realization, then they separated, Emily setting up the rest of the fans and himself stripping down to nothing but his jockstrap before working himself into the stuffy baker's outfit and nettings. Even in that, he didn't feel the usual oppressive warmth the outfit instilled, but he knew he would have to keep an eye on himself all the same: There was no reason to risk falling over from heat exhaustion they couldn't feel or something else silly.

He made a note to point that out to Emily when he got out too, just to be safe.

From there, Emily and 'Lyle' ran the shop by themselves. Tobias never handled the heat well when the AC broke down; he either shut the store down early or just didn't open up at all. Since they had to find out what the actual diagnosis was from the repairman, however, they needed someone there to let him in to see it before they could decide what to do.

The repairman called back to let them know he'd be there within the hour, and as they had feared, declared the AC unit beyond hope. “I'd be practically replacing the whole thing if I did fix it. You're much better off just getting something new and putting the money towards that." The middle-aged man shook his head sadly. “Tell your father to call me and we can figure out what to order in. If it's gonna take awhile to get here, you might also try to convince him to switch to a delivery service for a bit to make up for the lost time; This place must be hellish to run without air as it is, an I can't imagine that's any easier with just the three of you." He paused, lighting up a bit. “Oh, Unless you find an Ice type who wants a temp job, I suppose. That might be a novelty."

Pan tried not to grimace. He didn't know many ice types, but from what little he knew of them, most were not inclined to deal with the muggy weather any more than he was if they could help it. That, or they already had other jobs and wouldn't be available. He had a feeling it would be a long shot to find one for that idea. Still, it was the thought that counted. “We'll be sure to let him know. Thanks a lot, Phil. We'll figure something out."

Once Phil left, Emily called up her father to tell him the results and Pan focused on the shop—which actually meant he stood off to the side of the register, slightly in view, and discreetly held the bottom of his uniform out so the breeze from a fan situated there would filter out some the heat in his fur.

Sadly, the remarkable effects of the sweets he'd made were not long lasting. The cooling effect gradually wore away, and within about a half hour, they could feel the stifling heat again. Even if they only ate a piece at a time whenever it wore off, they would run out before the end of a regular shift. He had tried to give the rest to Emily, but she has insisted that he needed them far more, given his fur and coloring, and had no intention of leaving him to suffer like that while she enjoyed the protection.

He definitely appreciated the fact she cared about his well being at least, but even if they were more useful to him, he didn't want to leave her sweating it out either. “Then let's try this: We'll split them, and let's see if we can at least go an hour at a time. That way we both get some relief and can try to make them last; Since we're not going to be doing as much with things like this anyways, we can trade off with fan time or breaks to make sure no one is getting overheated for long. Your Dad will probably have us shut down early anyways."

And so that had been the agreement, and so far it had done alright. Tobias had told them to make it an early day, which saved them some misery, and Emily made a few signs to post on the shop window so customers would know what to expect. They had their periodic sweets and, at Emily's sly suggestion, snuck a few of the other pastries and sausage rolls as an extra snack (“It's not like we're not going to have to toss some of this out anyways, unless a Snorlax barges in or something."), and chatted.

“So it really does come off?" Emily repeated her question.

“It does," Pan confirmed, smirking a bit. “Got a hole in it and everything."

“And it just comes out of nowhere and everything?"

“Yeah. I don't recall the specifics, but Evolution can do quite a lot when it happens. Nevermind all the extra mass and body shaping. I think one theory is it's sort of like shrugging off dead skin and condensing it, so the creepy idea is it's the remains of my tiny little body."

She shuddered, and he really couldn't blame her—the idea made him cringe too. “Why would it be a different color then? And why doesn't that happen to other Pokemon?"

“Can't really explain any of that. Not my specialty and not sure I'd want to know really, but plenty of pokemon grow in size at the very least and gain a lot of features; and some of them do other strange things too, even if it isn't growing a giant marble to hold their hair." He held up his hands and wiggled his human fingers. “But at least I got something like a thumb out of the bargain, and I can flip people off if I need to!"

That sparked a laugh out of her, and Pan felt him grin widely as he listened. Maybe the AC going out was more of a blessing than he had realized. Without Tobias around to play moderator, he'd be less self conscious, and if they were only doing a fraction of the work, that meant more time talking. With a little more careful planning and some extra research on his rawst/occa berry treats, he might even be able to make the heat more bearable.

If Tobias didn't just shut the store down, of course. He had no idea how he would convince Emily to go out anywhere when most of the time he was either working or at home, cooking or recovering from working; he wasn't even sure what sort of things she did when she wasn't there! At least their conversation time gave him an opening to try and get some answers.

“Well, when we do have to shut down because of something, I usually end up catching up on house cleaning, otherwise it's read a book, play a video game, or if I'm really curious, try to make a recipe at home.“ She shrugged and blushed a little bit. “When you're baking stuff here all day, you don't usually want to do more unless it's something special, you know? It's easier to pick up a book or something."

Pan nodded emphatically; he could definitely understand that, although it helped him less with excuses to get her out somewhere on a 'date' or similar. “I know that feeling. I found cooking things to be kind of amazing when I was younger—probably because I didn't really have hands to do it and all that," He held up his hands again to do another finger wiggle, “But apart from book reading or TV, I don't have many other options. I usually try to do at least one cooking experiment or something a week to try and master new stuff, and feel less guilty about eating the whole thing myself."

“Oh gosh, I would have to throw in a whole extra exercise routine if I did that! There's nothing else you can go do? What about hanging out with friends?"

With this, Pan gestured to the outside, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her. “Welcome to Podunk, where there isn't much to do that won't be repetitive, and most things you'd repeat cost money; plus in this weather most of us are trying to find ways to avoid the heat, and public pool chlorine is murder on my mane."

Emily grinned, and gave him a grudging nod of acknowledgement. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. Even if you went to the mall, idling around can almost be worse than not going out, and you just get to look at all the things you want but shouldn't buy." She let out a small sigh at that. “So, if you didn't have to worry about the heat, and didn't have to worry about the money, or having to work for a few days, what would you do with that time?"

Think about you? The earlier moment about the pool had made him consider what Emily might look like in a swimsuit, and whether or not it'd be a one-piece or otherwise. He could hardly use either of those in his response though. It did spark a different idea, if a little risky. “If I could plan ahead for it? I'm thinking a date, or dates, since it'd be kinda weird to call the whole thing just one 'date.' A real beach might be interesting to experience, or else some sort of theme park that doesn't make you worry about Tetanus. Throw in going to see a movie at the end and you can put your feet up for it."

From the pondering gaze on Emily's face, it seemed like she approved of the idea. “Sounds fun, and pretty romantic! Aren't you the slick one?" She gave him a playful swat in the arm. “With ideas like that, I don't know why you keep turning down all those girls that hit on you before you started pretending to be human... Unless it's the obvious sort of reason."

Shit. This may have just backfired. If she got the impression he was gay, it was going to make things a lot harder for him! “I'd rather not lose my job because your father caught me fucking a customer in the bathroom or behind the building, thank you very much," He tried to cobble together some other witty response that wouldn't imply his preferences in a negative way or leave things awkward, “And just for that, next time you make some sexy eyes at some guy that strolls in, I'm not covering while you take him to the storage closet."

He added a melodramatic 'hmph' and turned his head away abruptly, strolling towards the back like a Prima Donna. Emily burst into giggles; she had certainly made dreamy eyes at a few of the men that had wandered in, but she definitely wasn't the sort to try and slip off with them like that. If one of them had used a line like that, her entire face would have probably gone crimson (and Tobias would probably have chased them out of the shop if he overheard it).

Orientation seemingly saved, the day continued on, between the fans and the sweets they managed to not sweat it out too badly. Emily seemed to genuinely enjoy them for more than just their utility, which pleased Pan. He made a note to try and make more of them and experiment with the amounts, since it would arguably save him from a grueling walk every day.

Another boon came from it when Emily asked him for his phone number. “Since I don't know if Dad is going to want to actually try the delivery thing, we may or may not be opening up tomorrow. Once I find out I'll call you to let you know if you need to worry about showing up. That okay?"

Since that meant he would have her number without having to try and ask, he agreed. Even if they ended up not working for the week, he could reconsider calling and trying to arrange an outing, or even just text such an idea; the casual nature of texting could work to his advantage!

He practically skipped, buffered by a cooling sweet, through the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun when his shift ended. He even swapped out the witty phrase on his shirt to look like a smiley face, ignoring the strange looks he got from a few passersby in favor of planning out what he would try next as he waited for Emily's call.

If we just keep the shop closed, I probably could text her tomorrow or even the day after and suggest an outing; All that talking wouldn't make it seem weird, and if I just make something nice for a packed lunch for us both, I can earn some points at the same time!

The question then became if there was anything potentially good running at the Theater, or even the Acting Center; why limit himself to modern entertainment at this point? Onward the questions went, until he decided to make a detour to head to the nearby grocery store to look for ingredients; creativity would require a bit of splurging!

Pan began to hum as he continued on with his day, a smile forming on his face to match the one on his shirtfront.

---

Unfortunately for Pan's cheerful planning, after shopping and working himself ragged for the ideal lunch date, Emily's call told him they would be heading in to work after all: Tobias was going to try and arrange deliveries, but until that settled in, keeping the shop open for at least the half day would let other customers know and help spread the word. “Write down that recipe for your icy sweets while you're at it." She had added, “If we can make those here they should really be a big hit, and then we won't have to worry about running out of them ourselves while the AC is out."

He hid his disappointment but reminded himself this fit into his original plans: The actual 'date' would just have to be on a different day. He double checked all his preparations were complete and safely stored away, including the extra 'Icy Sweets' he had made for them both. All that was left was for him to get some sleep.

Naturally, it felt like the biggest challenge of all, his mind wandering into ideas of him and Emily going out to the movies, or snuggled together on a blanket under a cool, starry night...

The feel of her skin beneath his clawtips as he took in her scent and kissed along her neck...

The rest became lost amidst the sea of dreams.

Whatever experience he enjoyed in that nocturnal reverie faded away with the droning of his alarm clock, though he groaned and muttered as he reached out to bat the wicked taskmaster. Contrary to the desires of his body, if he wanted to see those dreams as a reality he had to choose between them.

Pan found himself entering the bakery once again, but with two bags in tow compared to his usual one. The familiar jingle summoned Emily, who gave him a warm smile. “Morning Pan. I guess you did get some sleep after all."

He gave her a funny look as he went to put his things away. “Was there some reason I looked like I wasn't getting any?" He almost made a joke out of their previous days banter, alluding to the man he had claimed she made sexy eyes at, but he caught himself. No sense confusing his orientation with her again, or possibly overstepping the moment.

“No, you just sounded like you were out of breath or distracted on the phone," She followed behind, “But phones can be weird and I wasn't sure if it had to do with, well..." At an apparent loss for words, she made some attempt at explaining with a combination of gestures that made no sense at all to him, then finally sighed and said it out loud, “Because you're a Pokemon and your face is shaped differently?"

“Oh!" That explained the strange pantomiming, and also why she hadn't wanted to say it outright. “No, The only trouble with phones usually has to do with being able to hold it or press the buttons." He let out a chuckle and pulled out his phone, showing how he held it. “I just turn my ear towards the receiver and I'm fine. I probably sounded distracted because I was busy making stuff when you called and was thinking."

Emily seemed relieved he didn't take her awkward moment seriously and turned the conversation towards the extra stuff he had. “More Icy Sweets? Good, cause it looks like today is going to be hotter. Seems like you made more than enough though: I asked about you bringing the recipe so you wouldn't have to do all that yourself. Or is there a tool we don't have that you do at home?"

Pan gave her a wide grin. “More than sweets, but it's a surprise; You'll have to wait." The look of aggrieved curiosity brought another chuckle out of him as he put the last thing away into the fridge. “But I did try making different sizes of them to see if there's a difference in the effect that mattered. I brought you the recipe too, so no worries."

From there, they plotted out their strategy as Emily looked over the recipe. They decided they would wait until an hour after opening before trying the smallest of the Icy Sweets: All they had to do was time how long they stayed cooled off to see if their size made any real difference to the duration or not.

“You know, the biggest downside to all this right now?" Pan wondered aloud after they discussed pricing, “Even if I try to make these as lean as possible, I think I'm gonna end up putting on weight from them if the bigger ones don't work as well. Unless I can make a decent salad out of them or something."

“So why not make a salad from them? I have just as much a problem with gaining weight off these as you, by that logic. Are you saying it's okay for me to be fat, but not you?"

The mental image of her on a scale, swearing at the numbers while squeezing at the presumed new weight added to her belly, tickled his amusement more than it should have: possibly because he was also imagining her in her underwear. “No, but it's a lot easier to snack on sweets than to eat a salad, and even if I just ate the rawst berry straight, it's a bit harder to do that with an occa berry. The whole reason you like them is because they taste nice and they make you feel cool."

“That's a good point, and I'd get tired of a salad pretty quickly, especially if I had to eat it more than once in a day. I guess that means we'll have to switch it up and get some extra exercise after all."

“Can always try to sweat the weight off."

The thought of more exercise during the muggy heat made them both sigh, perfectly in sync. They both got a laugh out of that once they realized what had happened.

Halfway through the day, as their experiments with the sweets looked promising, Emily suggested that they could at least unbutton their uniforms when they weren't handling anything hot. “Dad's a stickler for it, but honestly unless the health inspector shows up out of nowhere, I don't think anyone is gonna blame us for it—or me at least. You can just pretend to have it buttoned and no one would know."

Since Pan had always wished he could at least get away with wearing his jacket loosened, he didn't argue on that, and gratefully began unbuttoning it. To add to the effect, 'Lyle's' unbuttoned as well. “I mean, I could try and illusion it so yours looks the same, but I'm not really practiced at doing that on others, so I have no clue if something would go wrong."

He turned himself towards the nearby fan and opened his jacket slightly. The breeze drifted in and, while muted still by a sweet, felt pleasantly cool all the same. He must have made a pleased face of some sort when he did it, because when he looked back, Emily was fighting back a giggle. It didn't stop her from replying though. “I'm sure you're better than you think at it, but then I would worry you'd do something sneaky in front of a customer if you got bored."

“What? Me? Pull a prank on you cause I'm bored? Never!"

A few moments of silence.

“Okay, maybe! But definitely not with your father around!"

“Funny you should mention that when he isn't around!"

Like the day before, they chatted, but more of it was work related. Tobias called a few times, asking questions and giving his own notes on arrangements, which helped make the day feel less slow and sweltering (though they didn't really swelter much at all) in between the customers they got.

Thanks to Pan's overzealous preparations, they had enough Icy Sweets to offer some for customers to try as well, much to the delight of several pokemon who came in. One had even bought several more to take with him to work, which certainly promised more sales in the near future.

The best part for Pan came when they broke for lunch and he brought out his 'picnic set.' Nomel-nade (quality brand, not that cheap generic stuff), a vegetarian sandwich that involved the slaughter of countless different produce (brought together in amazing harmony thanks to the dressing made from several more) between two slices of ciabatta bread, and a deceptively simple arrangement of sliced oran berry. Emily's face looked pleasantly surprised at all, but it was when she took that first bite of the sandwich that he knew he had truly impressed her; she looked as though she was in the throes of ecstasy. “Pan, what the hell did you do to this sandwich? It's delicious!"

By the time he got home again that day, several eye witnesses would have reported seeing a Zoroark whistling merrily as he walked through the hottest day yet. It was like he could do no wrong.

---

Pan woke with a start, squinting blurrily at the outline of sunlight seeping through the window blinds as he tried to decipher what had disturbed him. No scent of smoke to suggest a fire, nor dampness of the bedsheets to suggest a leak from above. A dream? What little he could remember of one definitely wouldn't have startled him awake...

It wasn't until he checked his phone that he figured it out: somehow he had slept through his alarm, and it was a full hour past when he normally got up. He'd let out a grumble at this, but wasn't too upset; It wasn't the first time he'd overslept, and he just preferred a chance to wake up before stepping into his routine. He'd just have to let the walk to work do it for him.

After a long, laborious stretch and sprawl, he dragged himself out of bed and shuffled.to the bathroom. The ritual of morning cleansing came and went, and with a bit more alertness he opened his closet to pull out one of his uniforms to pack...

Only to find a singular hanger dangling from the rack where his uniforms were supposed to be.

He stared at it dumbly for several seconds before it clicked. A rising thump echoed in his ears as he frantically checked the rest of the closet for a misplaced set, then a shirt, then just an apron. He opened drawers, double checked another closet, and finally resorted to digging through his dirty clothes to count outfits. There was one, then another, some pants he flung into a separate pile, ah, another uniform under a small collection of shirts...

The good news: every outfit was accounted for. The bad news: every outfit was accounted for. His work outfits, his regular outfits, even his spare undergarments.

He'd skipped laundry day.

“SHIT!"