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Series 10 Finale Party
Michael scanned the crowd, sticking close to Helena as they made their way from the car park toward the Baking Show Fun Fair. Flags were waving over the groups gathered on the lawn and at picnic tables.
“I knew I should have worn different shoes, Michael. Why didn’t you stop me from all of this,” Helena said, waving at her heels as they sank into the lawn with every other step.
With a wry smile Michael kept his eyes roving ahead as he answered. “Sorry, love. They just go so well with your outfit, I couldn’t bear to talk you out of them. Now limp along, I see Priya and Michelle up ahead.”
Michelle screamed a bit as she barreled toward them, knocking Michael half off his feet when she leapt up for a hug. “It’s been forever!” she shouted right in his ear.
“It’s been two weeks, though, hasn’t it?” The gin tasting tour she’d taken him and Henry on the week after Henry was eliminated would live on as the happiest of memories. “And we just talked yesterday. Come on now,” Michael laughed as he set her down and swooped in for a hug from Priya.
And with that he and Helena were engulfed by all the members of their baking family, save four. The three hard-at-work finalists in the tent, and Henry. Where was Henry?
Michael slapped Jamie on the back and took another look around the crowd of friends and families all gathered outside the tent. There.
Henry came around the corner of the tent with their beloved PA, Julie, waving goodbye to her as she headed back into the tent. His dark blonde hair caught the wind and floofed up a bit, which made Michael reach for his hair to be sure it was okay. His floral shirt matched perfectly with his cornflower blue tie. Simply dashing, without a doubt.
The moment their eyes met, Michael felt the energy shift. He lifted a hand in a shy wave, while Henry’s smile broadened to the width of his face. After their two-day trip to Wales to see Michelle, they’d also been together earlier in the week, helping Alice practice for her final bakes. It had been just text messages since then, and Michael was so glad to be back together in person.
Henry hurried up to the group. “Julie says all three of them have been doing brilliantly and that the judges are going to have a very tough time,” he revealed as he joined them.
Rosie teased, “Ah Henry, only you could get that from Julie. She always liked you the best.”
Henry’s blush was immediate. “Alright then, you lot. Who haven’t I said hello to?” He squeezed through to get to Helena, surrounding her with his embrace. She laughed and pointed over to Michael.
“Henry, here’s Michael, he needs a hug, too.” Helena winked at Michael.
Michael stood still as Henry approached, opening his arms just a bit. He didn’t try to keep his smile from growing or his dimples from deepening, but rather just looked up into Henry’s brown eyes, focused only on him.
10 Weeks earlier: Week 1
Michael met the eyes of a tall, thin bloke on the far side of the space as he looked around the Welford Park conference room, breathing slowly in and out through his nose, trying to calm his beating heart. Handsome, that, he thought as he counted way more than twelve people, deducing the crew must be mixed in with the bakers. It evidently took a lot of people to make the magic happen in the tent. No sign of Prue or Paul, but Noel and Sandi were making their way through the groupings of people and saying hello. How was this really happening?
The months between getting accepted and arriving here for the first weekend of filming had seemed to go by in a flash. One moment he was sending off his application packet, the next he was elbow-deep in practice bakes. If he never made another full puff pastry it would be too soon, truly.
Soon a woman called Julie who identified herself as “your own personal PA” was asking for everyone’s attention, and he learned who his “Bake-off Family” would be for the next ten weeks (if he was lucky). And maybe long after that? All the previous contestants insisted that they remained close friends after surviving the tent together. Would that be the way it was for this group?
Everyone settled around the tables and introductions started with the makeup and hair crew, then the set dressers and techs, and so on. Michael started to relax—this was just like the first day of rehearsal for every theater production he’d been a part of. It was familiar, which was not something he was expecting. And that felt good.
It seemed to Michael that a lot of the bakers in this series were his age, or close to it anyway. As folks introduced themselves, giving brief bios as they did, he was excited to get to know Alice, Helena, Rosie, Amelia, Michelle, David, and all the others, really. And Henry. The tall one from when he’d first come in. Henry Bird, at uni for English Lit and also a church organist. He had a soft voice with a hint of snark behind his smile, and an ease with everyone in the room that made Michael jealous. To be so self-assured while still at uni!
With thirteen bakers all crowded into the nearest pub for dinner, Michael didn’t worry that he wasn’t seated near Henry, but rather enjoyed talking with Steph and Priya as he nursed his lager and kept an eye on Henry two tables over, cozily chatting with Alice and David. If the baking gods allowed it, there would be plenty of time to get to know him over the next few weeks. Here’s hoping.
On Saturday morning Michael woke long before his alarm. He was happy to see a bit of sun, and even happier for the encouraging text message from his mum: Be calm, be slow, be confident. He could do that. She knew better than anyone how he struggled with an anxious mind and often-racing heart; and not to be conceited, but she also knew what a good home baker he actually was. If he absorbed her words as he embarked on the first day of filming he knew he’d be okay.
Twelve minutes into Cake Week and the first signature bake of the series, from his bench in the very back of the tent, his mum’s words were already gone from his mind. The tension in the tent was thick and Michael’s left hand was covered in a blue glove after cutting three—three!—fingers due to stress, excitement, nervousness—maybe all of the above?
Joan, the tent paramedic, had been nothing but kindness with each trip to his bench. Michelle, Alice, and Henry had all taken a quick moment to check on him amidst their own bakes, and Helena hollered encouragement over her shoulder whenever she could. Eventually Michael settled into a rhythm and didn’t do any more harm to himself.
After the signature Michael retired to one of the rooms in Welford Park reserved for the bakers. He needed to relax and get his shoulders to soften up a bit or he wasn’t sure he could take on the technical. He was alone for all of five minutes when the door opened quietly. Michael opened his eyes.
“Hey there, hello. Am I disturbing you?” Henry just barely poked his head in the door.
“No, no, this room is for all of us, you should come in,” Michael replied, leaning up on his elbow on the sofa.
“Alice is here too. We’re coming in,” Alice’s voice floated in from behind Henry.
Michael smiled. He already had friends. After less than a day, he had friends who were coming to check on him. He sat up as Alice handed him a glass of water and sat on his left side, leaving Henry to plop down on his right with slices of apple and cheese on a plate.
“Snacks and beverage. No telling what’s coming up in the technical, and we all need our strength,” Henry said. “The only way we can beat you fair and square, Michael, is for you to be at your best.”
Michael’s laugh turned to a sort of snort as he tried not to choke on the water he’d just drunk. These two were funny and kind and seemed to really care about him. Henry wasn’t taking his eyes off of him, making sure he ate the apple, giving a running list of everything that had gone wrong with his signature to keep the mood lighthearted.
When Julie gave them their fifteen-minute call for the technical, Michael finally felt the calm that his mum had wanted for him that morning. Henry and Alice stood immediately, and turned back to Michael.
“Thanks, you guys. Honestly. I feel like you have made possible my goal of not cutting off any fingers during the technical.”
“A worthy goal, indeed,” Henry reached down his hand to haul Michael up. His hand was soft and warm, his organist-fingers long and slender. Michael was surprised by the extra squeeze Henry gave his hand, along with a quick wink, before he turned toward the door. “Come on, let’s get technical,” Henry said as they joined Alice on the way back to the tent.
Weeks 2 - 4
Each week flew by quickly. Juggling his jobs at the theatre and the gym with practice bakes never got easier. Some nights Michael only slept 4-5 hours. It didn’t help that Henry was basically front of mind both while he was in the tent and when he was at home. Henry, who made his heart pound, and not in an anxiety attack kind of way.
Starting with their second week, Henry put them all to shame in the dressing department by showing up in a tie (under a sweater to start, just with a white dress shirt by week 4). He left that tie on the entire weekend! He joked that if he was going to be eliminated then he wanted to at least look good, but his bakes were so tasty that Michael was sure he wouldn’t be going out anytime soon.
While Henry looked so dapper that Michael felt under-dressed in his t-shirts, he at least was comfortable. And Henry always complimented him on his colors and patterns in a very flirty tone, so he felt like he was doing something right.
The bakers grew closer over the long hours of each weekend. There were sometimes a few minutes in the tent to goof off before judging (to the point where Julie didn’t even try to contain the group, just muttered about “the good old days at BBC”). There were opportunities for folks to help each other as everyone raced the clock at the end of each bake. And the whole group of them had picnics and took naps on the great lawn under beautiful trees every Saturday.
One sunny day Michael, Henry, Steph, David, Helena, and Alice were walking together on the grounds after lunch and found themselves at St. Gregory’s Church. Henry was drawn to the organ, of course, and after gaining permission from the sexton he sat down and played the Harry Potter movie theme for their little group.
Michael was rapt, having made sure to sit where he could see Henry’s fingers moving smoothly and artistically on the keys. As masterful as his baking was, his command of the organ was even moreso. Michael shifted in his seat, warmth blooming at seeing Henry’s talent so beautifully displayed.
As the group walked back toward the tent, Michael plucked at Henry’s shirt to slow him down. “That was just brilliant, Henry. I mean, you’re really talented.” As Michael babbled he knew that he sounded absolutely moronic.
Henry’s eyes were soft and his smile sincere as he replied, “Thank you, Michael. Coming from you that means a lot. I picked Harry Potter for you, after our chat about the books last week.” They both kept grinning as they marched back to the tent to take on the next technical. Michael allowed the back of his hand to brush against Henry’s as they walked. Henry didn’t pull away.
Week 5
Michael sat in the courtyard of the bakers’ hotel, not ready to go inside even as the sun was setting. He had a panic attack hangover and the fresh air helped.
Just two weeks earlier he’d been the star baker of Bread Week, getting the first Paul Hollywood handshake of the series, and today… well, today he’d been through hell. But with the support of his baker friends and the entire production team (not to mention angels on earth Noel and Sandi), he’d completed the technical instead of giving up and walking away. Didn’t matter where he’d placed (second to last), his win was in the not giving up.
Michael looked up at the sound of footsteps, and next thing he knew Henry was sitting on the bench next to him, pressed all along his side giving a lovely warmth and stability that Michael didn’t know he was missing.
“Hey M,” Henry said quietly. The nickname had started last week, and Michael was sure he’d never liked one particular letter of the alphabet more than the way Henry said that one.
“Hello,” was all Michael could manage in reply. He looked up at the dimming light in the sky rather than into the warm eyes he knew were filled with concern.
“So I’m curious how you’re doing. Today was a lot. Sorry I couldn’t do more for you while you were struggling.” Henry paused there.
“H, honestly, you were amazing. I mean, everyone was. I’ve never had such good support during one of my attacks before.” Michael took a deep breath and finally looked at Henry. “And I’m doing good now, truly. I accomplished what I set out to do, and didn’t let anxiety and panic ruin it for me. If I go home tomorrow, I’m proud of myself.”
“So you’ve had other attacks, then?” Henry asked. His voice was hesitant, but kind. Michael didn’t even falter. He told Henry about his struggles and how between his mum, his therapist, and baking, he was working to live in joy and not fear. Henry listened, nodding and asking a few questions along the way. He shared his own struggles in return, letting Michael know he wasn’t alone.
The wind began to pick up, and Michael realized it was well and truly dark.
“We should probably head in, H. Our alarms are going off so early tomorrow.” Michael leaned away so there was an inch of space between he and Henry, and the chill that he immediately felt shivered through him.
Now with room to shift, Henry put one arm around the back of the bench. “I’d like to give you a hug, if that’s alright.”
Nothing had ever sounded more alright to Michael in his whole life. And that probably wasn’t even an exaggeration.
“Yes, I’d like that too. Very much,” Michael replied.
Being hugged into Henry’s chest felt like comfort and peace and understanding all rolled together. He smelled like sugar and fry oil with a hint of spearmint, for some reason? Michael was sure it was the best hug he’d had in years.
Week 6
Michael tried his best not to be distracted by Henry’s beautiful red floral shirt and red tie. Or his glorious ass. Michael messed with his spiderweb and Welsh flag pins. He fussed with every piece of equipment on his bench. But Henry just looked so damn good this weekend. He looked beautiful and totally in control. When Henry turned around to make a face or offer a wink of support, Michael raked his eyes up quickly and caught the twinkle in Henry’s eye—brighter than the spotlights over each bench.
The number of bakers in the tent had dwindled, and those left had more room and more experience now. Henry had taken to joking around with everyone, along with answering back to Paul when he was accused of not making his own jam. Michael sputtered with laughter at Henry’s response of “The cheek!” When Michael congratulated Henry on his bravery in the face of the Hollywood stare during their break, Henry snorted with laughter.
“I’m just leaning into the stress at this point, I guess? I was so offended, I couldn’t help myself. Like I wouldn’t make my own jam in the Bake Off tent? Honestly.” Alice found the two of them crowded together under what had become the bakers’ favorite tree and flopped down across both their laps.
“When this is all over, do you think we’re all going to stay friends forever, or will we drift apart?” Alice threw her head back and closed her eyes, apparently thinking she could grab a quick nap in the last few minutes before their call.
“I don’t know about Michael but you are stuck with me, at least,” laughed Henry, giving her waist a pinch. Alice squirmed and giggled.
“That goes for me as well, darling, never fear. Never getting rid of me now,” Michael agreed.
“Oh thank goodness,” and Alice fully relaxed onto them just as Julie came across the lawn with their 15-minute call.
In addition to pledging lifelong friendship to Alice on Saturday, on Sunday during the showstopper Michael, Henry, and David established the Least Laddy Lad’s Club, on camera, no less! David promised whiskey nights at his and Nik’s flat. Michael was looking forward to meeting Nik—the rules about not socializing outside of the weekends while still competing were getting tiresome.
Every week Michael was surprised he wasn’t added to the eliminees WhatsApp group; every week he was so grateful for one more chance to use his baking skills and to be close to Henry for two whole days.
Week 7
“Shut up!” The memory of Henry telling Paul Hollywood to shut up when offered a handshake was the only thing able to make him smile right now. He had finished his last-ever bakeoff interview, had gathered a couple of personal tools from his bench, and thanked all the crew he could find. He wouldn’t be coming back next week.
It had been such a good run. He made it over halfway through. To go out the week Henry was celebrating being star baker was a bit harsh, Michael thought. Such a huge chasm between them in all the goodbye hugging and chatting at the end of judging. Not that Michael was mad at Henry, or anything of the sort. No, Henry’s win was keeping Michael afloat—lovely Henry, so deserving, still in the competition.
Michael was thinking ahead. Now that he was no longer a contestant, his main goal was to get Henry’s number in his mobile so they could text. Maybe even videochat?
While he waited for everyone else to finish their interviews so the bus could take them all back to the hotel, Michael called his mum, who was disappointed he was done, but proud of his accomplishments in the tent. She bemoaned that the long weeks of having to keep Michael’s involvement a secret from all their friends were just getting started.
Michael was fiddling with his phone when Henry approached him, carrying his duffel over his shoulder.
“Good, you have your phone out. Hoping you’ll let me put my number in there?” Henry said, bumping Michael’s shoulder and then remaining leaned up against him.
“S-sure, yes! I was actually going to ask?” Michael felt shyer than he had since week one when he’d first caught a glimpse of Henry. “We can talk this week, now that I’m out.”
“Oh yes, we can and we will. Here, hand it over,” Henry grabbed for Michael’s phone, which Michael hurriedly unlocked and passed into Henry’s outstretched hand. Henry entered his number quickly and glanced sideways at Michael.
“I’ve never felt like we had enough time on these weekends. Silly bakes, silly show, getting in the way of spending time with you.” Henry quickly added, “And Alice and David and the others, of course.”
Michael blushed and pushed his glasses up to try to cover his pink cheeks. “Of course, yes. You, Alice, and David. And the others.” But mostly you you you.
The two guys started speaking at the same time: “I’m sorry you are going out this week…” “I’m so happy you won star baker this week…” Which led to both of them laughing and opening their arms for a hug as if it had been planned.
Michael breathed in the sugar, oil, and spearmint of Henry as they squeezed each other. There was something there. Something that he wanted to explore outside the bounds of these weekends. But with Henry still in the competition Michael knew that distracting him was the last thing he wanted to do. Henry had what it takes to win it all—and Michael wanted to see it happen.
Weeks 8 - 10
The week after his elimination Michael baked exactly zero things. He filled his off hours thinking about Henry. They had texted some, and Michael sent off several innuendo-laden memes as Henry practiced at school for pastry week. Henry responded in kind, much to Michael’s delight. But he’d kept his promise to himself not to distract Henry unduly.
Henry texted Sunday afternoon that he was eliminated after baking a dry showstopper with thick, raw pastry. What a disappointment. Michael asked what he was wearing while baking (trying for a saucy tone via text), and from his description, Henry’s floral blue shirt and pink tie sounded lovely. Michael could hardly wait to see it when the show aired.
On Tuesday night Michael put his phone on speaker so he could keep on with the washing up while he and Henry talked.
“I am, I am disappointed. But also, what a relief, right?” Henry was saying. “So it’s both. I feel both. I’m so glad not to be madly practicing right now. I can talk to you instead.”
“That’s exactly how I was feeling last week, as you well know, so there you go. Well done. We both got star baker, we both got handshakes, we both went out with our heads held high,” Michael recounted.
“So what’s on your agenda this week, M? I find myself without too much going on. And Michelle has extended that invitation to anyone who wants to go see her.” Henry cleared his throat. “Maybe we could take the train to Tenby together?”
Michael’s heart leapt in his chest. There was no reason not to say yes, and a couple of uninterrupted days away with Henry sounded like a dream come true.
“I haven’t been to the sea in quite some time. And I think I can tolerate your company for a couple of days. Let’s do it.”
Laughing, Henry replied swiftly. “Excellent. I’ll message Michelle.”
After tromping through the Welsh countryside, touring three churches, and baking for fun with Michelle and her family on Friday and Saturday, they managed to fit in three whiskey tastings before catching their train to London on Sunday afternoon.
Michael had dozed off within minutes of the train pulling away from the station, but was jerked awake as Henry fumbled around looking for his phone. Michael’s head had been on Henry’s shoulder, and unfortunately there was a drool spot on his sweater, which Michael tried to wipe away with one hand while wiping his mouth with the other.
“No worries, darling, it’s fine. Where is my blasted phone? I can feel it vibrating!” Henry finally dug it out of his jacket pocket with a cry. “It’s Alice!” That woke Michael the rest of the way up and he started making grabby hands at the phone.
“Open the message, open the message, you nit, do it!” He couldn’t help himself. They’d been talking all weekend about the semifinals, wondering how it was going.
Your Bake Off finals lineup is Alice, David, and Steph 🎉❤️ So sad for Rosie so happy for us miss you 😘
Michael and Henry couldn’t help but yell out upon seeing the message. The glares of the other passengers didn’t matter at all. Michael grabbed Henry and hugged him tight. It was a celebration for their friends, and the anticipation that they’d be back at Welford Park in one week’s time, seeing everyone face to face. The hug lingered a bit longer than a strictly celebratory hug should, Michael guessed. But neither of them wanted to pull away.
Henry decided to stay with Alice in London for the week leading up to the finals, and Michael made it there on two different nights when Alice insisted she wanted help practicing. On a third night Michael and Henry left her to work on her timings and went to a classical concert Henry had seen advertised. Whether side by side in Alice’s kitchen, sitting next to one another on the tube, or squished in a pew in a church-turned-concert hall, being together day after day lit Michael up from the inside with a flame of happiness he’d never felt before.
Michael had to work on Friday and Saturday and planned to meet up with Henry and the others at Welford Park on Sunday afternoon. After the past week of seeing Henry almost every day, two days away from him felt like an eternity. Nevermind that they basically texted each other all day long both days. It was still ages and ages before Michael was on the train and on his way, cheeky pink overalls buttoned over one shoulder and ready for a party.
Series 10 Finale Party
As Henry stepped into his arms Michael let out the softest of sighs. Henry pulled Michael tight and murmured into his neck, “Hello, darling. Let’s sit together.”
With Henry there, the group got raucous, giving the B-roll camera crew a hard time as they attempted to interview each former baker about who they thought would win. Snacks, drinks, laughter, and reminiscing led to Julie calling out “The bakers will be out in five, thank you!”
Michael got seated on a blanket on the ground with Helena by his side. He scooted close to the hay bale where Henry sat and Henry reached out to him, gripping his shoulder as they all got settled. The hay was scratchy against his side, but there was no way he was moving. He was leaned up against Henry’s knee, and Henry was holding him there. After weeks of wondering, hoping, and cautious flirting, it seemed Michael needn’t question any longer. Henry turned his head and leaned down to whisper directly into Michael’s ear.
“Dinner tonight? I’d like to take you out after all this excitement dies down. I’m not due back at home until Tuesday.”
Michael couldn’t contain his smile, and didn’t even want to try. In his heart he was rooting for Alice to win, but no matter which of his friends took home the prized cake stand this afternoon, Michael knew without a doubt that he was the real winner of GBBO 2019.