Rick stood at the door with a stack of bakery boxes.
"Happy National Cupcake Day!" Rick yelled, plowing up the trailer steps. Michael backpedaled to keep from crushing the boxes.
"Are those all cupcakes?" Michael demanded, flabbergasted. "There must be fifty!"
Rick unstacked them onto the small table, the four containers covering the entire surface and hanging over the edges.
"An even hundred! Twenty-five per box!"
"You're kidding me? Who the fuck is going to eat them all?! You do realize I still have to work for a living. I can eat just about one of those things a week." Michael glared at the boxes, then at Rick.
"You and me, my friend, just you and me." Rick plucked out one with white icing. There were no cupcake papers. They were each individual little cakes, fully frosted (or not), decorated, some simply, some beautifully. The white icing of the one in Rick's hand was soft, smooshing over his fingers. He took a huge bite, leaving icing on his nose and chin. He moaned.
"Red Velvet with cream cheese frosting. My favorite."
Rick smirked around the crumbs, watching Michael's pupils dilate. Michael's hand shot out, catching Rick's wrist in an iron grip. He reached over and turned the lock on the trailer door with his other hand.
"Mine, too," he growled, "Which you know perfectly well." Then he was lipping and licking the frosting off Rick's chin and lips.
"Happy Birthday," Rick tried to say, but he was pretty sure it was lost on the birthday boy. And there were still 99 cupcakes left to go.