I recently moved to a big city (the biggest in Australia, actually) and I started thinking about cities and trains and cake and this happened.

The smell of smoke filled Jess' lungs as he entered his apartment. Fuck, the faulty wiring has finally bitten me in the ass. He was on his way to salvage whatever he could from the bedrooms when he heard a small sob. Sitting at the dining table, charred remains of something in front of her, was Rory. It was obvious that she'd been crying, though it seemed that she'd almost run out of steam, even if the kitchen she'd abandoned hadn't run out of smoke.

"Did you put your socks in the oven again?" He remembered the time his roast tasted vaguely of feet, and was happy to see a watery smile on her face.

"That was three years ago, you need to let it go," she surveyed the mess in front of her with a frown, "It's supposed to be a strawberry shortcake."

Jess smiled ruefully as he opened as many windows as possible. The frigid New York winter air filled their small living area, causing Rory to shiver. Jess grabbed her coat from the front door and threw it over her shoulders, not wanting her to deal with smoke inhalation and frostbite in the same night.

"My birthday's not for another week." She nodded as she pulled the coat around her frame, frowning at the buttons as though they'd personally offended her.

"It was a practice run. The batter looked like it should but then work rang and suddenly I have a Frankenstein funeral situation on my hands. You got the wrong coat."

"There's a right coat?"

"This one doesn't fit anymore."

Jess winced as he waited for more tears. To his surprise Rory smiled up at him as he grabbed the other coat hanging near the front door.

"Want me to put it in storage for next year?"

"Probably a good idea, you're lucky my hormones have all been expended on this disaster cake and there's nothing left for me to cry about being fat."

"Not fat-"

"Pregnant, blah blah blah. Save it for when I'm crying over my favourite jeans."

"You're surprisingly chipper for someone who was just crying over a cake."

"I think I realised the stupidity of it all when you started opening windows," she giggled, which made him smile, "I only did it because I saw something on TV about making your children's birthday cakes. Can you believe that? Like I'm going to subject our daughter to my atrocious cooking when there's four different amazing bakeries within walking distance."

"It's not failing, it's… Delegating?" He offered, making her laugh.

"Exactly! I'm no more suited to baking cakes than you are being a clown at birthday parties. Those who cannot do, hire someone who can."

"That sounds like something your grandmother would say."

"Doesn't make it any less right," she grabbed the remains of the cake and threw it in the trash, "let's order Thai food."

"Extra vegetables?"

"That's definitely a Danes trait your kid is displaying."

"Didn't your mom eat tonnes of fruit when she was pregnant?"

"If you don't agree with me I'm baking you another cake."

"Shutting up and ordering."