Chapter Text
It was a night like any other—a sliver of a moon hung high in the sky, low lamplight illuminating a certain dinner table in a certain apartment. The Forger family sat around the table, enjoying their evening meal, carefree smiles on their faces as they indulged in each other’s somewhat pleasant company.
It was a night like any other. Well, except for the insults and crumbs of food being hurled across the table. Yuri and Fiona were usually seen as outcasts from the world, so you would assume they’d somehow relate to each other and get along, right? Well, you’re dead wrong. The once clean table had chunks of their meal scattered on it, Yor’s eye twitching in response, itching to just grab a rag and wipe the surface.
“I told you, this damn food tastes like bleach!” Yuri snapped, causing Yor to let out a scandalized gasp and cover Anya’s ears.
Fiona let out a growl, sounding borderline feral. She looked as if she wanted to throttle Yuri on the spot. Her hand inched toward a butter knife lying on the table, somehow untouched in the chaos. “And how exactly would bleach get in the food, you dimwit?”
“Well maybe the bleach he uses to dye his hair somehow leaked into his fucking brain, messing up his food circuits, and then it trickled into the food! His cooking always tasted like cardboard, but now it tastes as if his mutt’s shit is in the pan! Have you ever thought of that?!” He yelled back, pushing the plate away as if he didn’t nearly finish it. It was, in fact, completely pristine, every scrap licked clean, all the way down to the sauce.
Fiona let out a strangled sound. She snatched up the butter knife, the dull blade whistling through the air and stopping centimeters away from Yuri’s neck. “Oh, you are going to wish you were never born, you-!”
Ding!
Before she could run the blade through his neck, the oven ringed.
“Oh, the brownies are ready!” Loid switched his attention from the useless argument to the oven, taking out the freshly baked chocolatey treats.
Yor and Fiona suddenly found the oven—and just the oven—exceptionally fascinating as he bent to retrieve the tray. Yuri might have spared a glance, too—just a short look, really, nothing improper—but no one had to know. (It was so improper.)
Anya, who was slumped over in her chair, face down on the table and trying to sleep through the whole fiasco, snapped out of her almost-slumber. She perked up in her chair, eyes shining with interest after getting a whiff. Closing her eyes in bliss, she could imagine herself gobbling up every last brownie (and maybe advancing the friendship plan with Sy-On boy by bringing him some tomorrow). Bond, who had been sitting patiently by the table the whole time, suddenly turned away from the oven and stared intently at the wall, trying to avoid his desires of eating the brownies. His premonition went alarmingly dark after having a bite...
“Instead of fighting, why not enjoy these?” Loid said with a charming smile, holding the pan with his oven mitts on. With his disheveled hair, comfortable outfit, and apron tying the look together, he looked…
“You’re delicious!” Yor blurted. She flushed immediately. “I-I mean, the brownies! They look, um, really… yummy,” she finished, staring at Loid intently.
Loid blinked a few times. A small dusting of pink rose to his cheeks. “Oh, uh, thank you.” He smiled warmly.
Oh, Twilight! How adoooorableeee you look right now! That messy blond hair, innocent smile, and fluffy oven mitts… Oooh, and that cute little apron just does wonders for you! Run away with me, Twilight! We’ll eat brownies together forever!
Anya whipped around and stared at Fiona.
“What?” she asked blandly, seeing Anya’s look. Her expression was one of cool disinterest, but her gaze was glued to Loid’s figure like a hawk as he set the warm tray on the table.
“What’s this? You baked the mutt’s poop now?” Yuri sneered. Or, he would have. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was overtaken by the mouthwatering aroma of fresh-baked chocolatey goodness. He quickly clamped his mouth shut before he could drool all over the table. He had to save face, after all.
It was silent for a moment. Yor, Yuri, and Fiona were darting glances between Loid, the brownies, and back at each other, caught in a standoff. Who would be the first to succumb and take a bite?
So yummy…
Just wanna eat you up…
Twilight, I love you~!
“BROWNIES!”
It was Anya who broke the silence. She reached forward, grabbed a handful of brownies, and stuffed her face full.
Yuri and Fiona stirred into action.
“Hey, wait! Don’t eat them all!”
“Let me have some!”
Yor giggled. “Anya sure loves your baking, Loid,” she remarked.
“I’m glad. She deserves a treat once in a while.” Loid smiled radiantly. “There’s enough for everyone!” he assured, voice saccharine. “Let’s enjoy them together, alright?”
Fiona sat down slowly, her face carefully blank even as her heart underwent palpitations. Yuri coughed and looked to the side with a small blush on his cheeks. He plopped down in his seat, grumbling something suspiciously similar to cute and damn Lottie and cooking.
“And that’s all that happened. Really, you didn’t miss anything.” He just shrugged in response to Franky’s question, asking him what happened last night. They were talking in their usual alleyway about the war threatening to break out at any moment, Twilight’s overloaded schedule, events in the underworld—the typical news. After answering, Loid noticed that Franky was looking him up and down with that shit-eating grin. “What, why are you looking at me like that?”
“I don’t know, feels like I missed a lot." Franky snickered in amusement. “Look at you, stopping a murder with your good looks.”
“Now you’re just exaggerating. They were probably tired.” Loid insisted, his red ears not going unnoticed by his co-worker.
“Really? Tired? And Fiona? Does not fit.”
He surprisingly chuckled in response, catching Franky off guard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“You know, I haven’t heard you laugh since the first time we met.” He started to speak, catching Loid’s attention. “Keep laughing, it looks good on you.”
There was nothing Loid could say. All he could do was stare, his eyes widened in shock, but when he finally gathered his composure, he snapped back into Twilight mode.
“Oh, shut up.”
Kick!
“Ow, you just hit my fucking shin!"
Around two nights after the dinner fiasco, Anya read Bond’s mind. A premo-mission showed her that there would be a big and deadly war between Papa and Mama’s country! As she was watching the news, she saw the news lady speaking some big adult words with some pictures, but she couldn’t tell what. She started to panic, turning towards the furry canine that was seated next to her. “Bond, you gotta show me the future! How do we stop this?!” All the poor dog could do was try to conjure a premonition. When Anya started reading his mind, it was to no avail. The world was going to end, all because of her.
Before the tears could spill out of her eyes, she felt herself being pulled into the kitchen. When she got back on her own feet, she noticed Bond nudging towards the counter which held the holy grail of hot chocolate packets. The only thing that covered Anya’s face was a deadpan expression. “Bond, you know you can’t have that. Why are you showing me this?” He suddenly started to look into her eyes, having a premonition. A wave of relief washed over her, prepared to do whatever it takes.
Fzzzt!
Anya was standing in the living room, fists clenched and posture stiff. The TV was flashing with pictures of war—soldiers lying dead on the ground, brandishing their guns, grim looks on their faces. An adult news person was talking in the background.
“Hurry up Papa! You gotta save the world!” Anya urged.
The kitchen was a storm of flour, eggs, and other ingredients Anya couldn’t identify in the blur of motion. Papa was in the midst of the chaos, whizzing around the kitchen, wielding a whisk and a spatula like his dual pistols. He wore an apron that read, “Kiss the cook!” on top of his blue grandpa cardigan that always made Mama’s thoughts mushy. Puffs of flour gathered on his nose and cheeks, and his hair was the messiest Anya had ever seen it. His bangs flopped over his eyebrows, and he scrunched his nose and blew the strands of hair out of his face.
Mama, who was watching from the couch, promptly swooned and face planted on the ground, steam rising from her face. A small fire roared into life on the carpet. Bond was quick to pat it out with his paws. He licked Mama’s red face in puzzlement, trying to cool her down.
Anya violently shook her head, getting the vision out of her brain, confusion hitting her like a bus. “I still don’t understand. What does hot cocoa and… that have to do with world peace?” And then the bulb was lit. The gears started to turn. On the night of the brownie incident, Papa prevented a crime with just a few mouth-watering brownies! If he does it again…
He could stop the war, and save the world!