by Song Birdy

Author's Notes: Obviously I don't own Disney. Got that over with. What's wrong with me? I really don't know. But hey! I've been told it takes me too long to come up with new stuff, so drabble is my muse. This is... well. You'll see what it is. It's seductive and sweet and... well, delicious. Sharpay/Zeke. The best cannon couple in the whole damn movie. Reviews are lovely. Oh. I'm looking for a beta reader sometime, or someone to co-write with. I can't write a whole story on my own as noted in that everything I write is one chapter long so it'd be cool. I'm into every pairing. Yeah. I'm cool.




He tastes and smells like flour.

Of course, it wasn't meant to happen exactly how it did, but Sharpay is certain of exactly one thing: it couldn't have happened better.

All of her coy smiles and short skirts were guaranteed to pay of at some point, and the sweet smell of baking goods blended with her Chanel No. 5 quickly became irresistible to Zeke's hungry mouth and hands.

From the first kiss, sloppy and unexpected by either one of them, to when his hands picked her up and placed her on the counter, to when again he carried her to his bed, she wasn't exactly sure what to expect.

"There's a smudge of chocolate on your neck," he's whispering in her ear, his hand running softly, pushing up around her skirt. She makes no move to stop him and smoothes her own hands around his muscled back.

"Why don't you get it off?"

The Ice Princess. The Ice Queen. Never been touched by the hands of a man. Sharpay Evans is left completely speechless.

His neck tastes like baker's chocolate.

Her hair smells like vanilla.

A bittersweet combination of light and dark fades into a moment of simultaneous bliss, loss of identity, loss of separation. Her soft blonde hair feels better than any he's ever held, and she forgets everything she's ever been told to give in to the strength of his arms. For minutes, hours, days, they find it far too easy to lose themselves to each other, and fall away from basketball and theatre and even from baking to succumb to their more primal wants and needs.

Baking has become a seductive art. He knows she is watching him, thinking the same thoughts he is thinking, and planning out each move that they will make. From six until eight in the evening, his empty home is their hiding place, making cookies, cakes, delicacies and love all in two burning hours a day.

She teases him throughout the day with the swish of her hips and manicured smiles she tosses his way as he carries her books, but in the end, he knows she'll come back to him and drift into a slumber afterwards.

He always watches her, propped on one arm, as she sleeps. Her hair is mussed and eye makeup smudged. Chocolate and flower dabbed across her cheeks and chest, she shifts positions and Zeke smiles.

And every time when he leans over to kiss her awake, he muses to himself: she is the best thing he has ever tasted.