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“Are you sure you can handle them all on your own?” Mandy asked.
“Trust me!” Chad said, shoving her out the door. “Have I ever let you down?”
“Yes,” she stressed. “On numerous occasions.”
His smile grew dangerously thin.
Just who the hell did she think she was talking to?
Chad was a phenomenal cook. An absolute genius in the kitchen. He’d made grown men weep and convinced dying grandmothers to hang onto life with the promise of his food.
Not only that, but he was a great Caregiver. Sure, he’d faced criticism for his dramatic flair and overwhelming bluntness, but those traits were the whole reason he was able to balance two Littles as volatile as Robert and Herm.
Besides, how hard could it be to bake a few Valentine’s cookies with the team regressors for the rest of the Caregivers anyway?
He swallowed his irritation, forcing out a boisterous laugh.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I got this. I’ll call if I need anything.”
“Just let me know if something comes up, okay?” Mandy reminded him. “Visi gets cranky if she doesn’t have something to do. And Janelle-“
“Mhm. Yep. Yeah. Okay.” He slammed the door in her face and locked it with a sigh.
“Chaaaaad,” Courtney sang from the kitchen. “Can we start now?”
He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and put on his bravest smile as he made his way back into the kitchen. As long as he was able to keep control, there was no way he could mess this up.
His confidence quickly deteriorated as he rounded the corner. Fuck. Who was he kidding? Chad was barely hanging on most days. Two Littles were fine. Three was a challenge. But seven? Oh, he was in for it now.
Herm sat quietly at the table, damp hands folded nervously in his lap. His eyes kept drifting to the bags of sugar, though it was clear he was too scared to try getting closer to any of the ingredients on his own. A stark contrast from Bruno and Victor, who had somehow found the chocolate chips and were eating them by the fistful. Robert and Janelle laughed and chatted excitedly about the latest Valentines Day Lego botanical release. Alice was trying to see if she could read the recipe upside down, and Courtney stood dangerously on her chair, eyes bright with excitement.
Chad clapped his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. All eyes snapped towards him.
“Alright, Valentine’s baking crew!” he announced. “Put your aprons on and wash your hands. And remember: nobody touches the stove unless I say so.”
Everyone scrambled for the pile of aprons before clamoring over to the sink like a group of enthusiastic ducklings. If anyone noticed Chad snapping candid pictures of Alice helping Victor fit his fruit patterned apron over his ears, or Courtney tying Bruno’s custom dinosaur apron around his waist for the Caregiver group chat, they kept it to themselves.
Robert shoved his sleeves up his arms, tongue poking out as he washed his hands clumsily. Janelle, on the other hand, scrubbed all the way up her forearms like she was preparing for surgery.
Herm waited patiently for them to finish before cranking the water pressure up. He squeaked when water splashed over the edge, splattering against his chest like cold blood.
“S-sorry!”
“You’re good, Waterbug,” Chad reassured him automatically. “Okay, first step-” He grabbed the recipe card, “Beat the butter and sugars together until they combine.”
Huh. Easy enough. Chad could do that with an arm tied behind his back.
He snagged a mixing bowl from the cabinet and threw a stick of butter into it, along with a generous helping of white sugar. He cringed when some of it puffed up into the air like a cloud of cheap perfume.
“Uncle Bae!” Alice exclaimed, wiping her hands dry on a clean towel. “Can I help?”
“Sure.” He pushed the bag of brown sugar in her direction. “Think you can add this in for me?”
“Uh-huh! How much?”
“Um…” He squinted at the recipe card again. “Half a cup.”
He turned to scan the cluttered counter for the measuring cups when-
CRUNCH!
Everyone froze. Bruno lifted his foot slowly, revealing a collection of very flat, very unusable measuring cups. A loud metal clink! echoed throughout the kitchen as a detached handle fell to the floor.
“…Oops.”
Chad stared at the mangled, mud-caked metal in disbelief.
“You know what?” he said. “New plan. We’re going to eyeball it.”
“ ‘kay!” Alice grabbed the bag of brown sugar, her manicured nails digging into the opening.
“Wait! Not the whole-!”
An avalanche of brown sugar tumbled into the bowl, eclipsing the butter sitting at the bottom entirely.
“Ohhh,” Victor said. “That’s not good.”
“It’s not,” Chad agreed. “But we can still fix it. Can someone help me scoop some out?”
Janelle was already reaching into the bowl before he could grab a spoon, sugar spilling over the sides of her cupped hands like sand as she dumped the excess back into the bag. She repeated the process a few times before dusting her hands off with a satisfied nod.
“I’ve got the mixer!” Courtney shouted.
Herm winced when she flicked the electric hand mixer on, the mechanical whine filling the apartment like smoke.
Panic flooded Chad’s veins immediately.
“Courtney, hold on-“
She plunged the beaters straight into the bowl. Victor screeched as sugar exploded into the air.
Chad groaned. These kids were going to be the death of him.
He tried to take a deep breath to steel himself and immediately regretted it, coughing as fine white dust coated his tongue.
Across the table, Robert shook his head from side to side, blinking furiously as powdered sugar clung to his lashes. Courtney shut the hand mixer off and curled inwards, caught somewhere between looking like a kicked puppy and a very guilty powdered donut.
Herm tried not to laugh, but not even the gates of hell couldn’t hold back the horrible honk that escaped from him.
Giggles and snorts erupted all around them.
“Oh my god,” Robert wheezed, running his fingers through the sugar scattered across the table. “It’s all over the place!”
Once the laughter died down, all eyes turned to Chad, who smiled shakily in response.
They didn’t know it yet, but these cookies were going to taste awful.
He should have known better than to host an event like this on his own. Because while Chad was an amazing cook, he was horrible at baking. He’d never made a cake that wasn’t over mixed or under mixed. His muffins always came out charred, and his macarons always fell flat and bled together into one gross, goopy pancake.
And now, he had seven Littles looking to him for guidance on what to do next. Ugh. He never should have let his pride determine his plans.
Chad took a deep breath and smoothed back his hair.
“Okay,” he said, slipping back into Caregiver Mode. “Courtney, sweetheart? I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but ask before you turn anything on. You hear me?”
She nodded, eyes glued to the floor as she handed the mixer over to him reluctantly.
“Bruno?” Chad asked, turning to the construct. “Think you can keep the bowl stable for us?”
The mud man planted both hands on either side of the bowl immediately, fingers melting together into one solid foundation.
“Robert? I need some paper towels to clean this up. Victor? Think you can get me an egg from the fridge? Use both hands so you don’t drop it.”
They rushed off to retrieve the items as Chad read the next instructions out loud: “Add an egg and some vanilla.”
—————————
The cookies, to no one’s surprise, did not look good. They were far too flat, the edges were all charred and dark, and the pink sprinkles had faded into a purplish gray color. One had somehow fused to the tray, though a majority of them were swimming in a greasy pool of melted butter.
Alice poked one of the cookies cautiously, quickly recoiling when it crackled at the contact. “Ew!”
Warm, amber eyes met wet, gray ones when a damp hand reached out to tug on Chad’s sleeve.
“A-are they… s’posed to look like that?” Herm asked.
Chad sighed. “No, Hermie. I don’t think so.”
“Why are they… shiny?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know.”
“They’re kind of floppy,” Victor noted, plucking the least offensive cookie from the tray. “Can I try it?”
Chad hesitated. Every Caregiver instinct in his body was screaming at him not to let Victor consume that poison, but it was hard to say ‘no’ with so many pairs of puppy eyes trained on him.
Besides, he’d seen Victor eat all sorts of things. Surely one bad cookie wouldn’t put him out of commission, right?
“…Blow on it first,” he said at last.
Victor beamed and did exactly that, huffing cool air onto the cookie before excitedly shoving it into his mouth.
Chad held his breath. This was it. The moment of truth.
Everyone leaned forward as Victor froze mid-chew. His eyes went wide.
“…Mm.”
There was a moment of silence where Chad actually allowed himself to feel a spark of hope. That maybe his reputation could be salvaged despite how devastatingly ugly the cookies had come out.
But then, Victor lunged for the trash can, eyes watering as he spat everything out. Horrified gasps exploded throughout the kitchen.
“I’m sorry!” Victor blurted, wiping his tongue on the back of his hand. “It was just- just so bad.”
Alice grimaced as Victor spat out another glob of spoiled cookie crumbs.
Janelle frowned and shook her head at the spectacle.
Courtney slowly lowered the cookie she’d sneakily snatched back down to the tray.
“Maybe we should stick to boxed brownies next time,” Robert suggested.
“Yeah.” Chad pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regulate his breathing. “Maybe you’re right.”
After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone with the soul-crushing indifference of a man filling out old paperwork.
“I’m ordering replacement cookies from the bakery downtown,” he said, voice defeated. “What flavors does everyone want?”
The chorus of answers was immediate.
“Chocolate!”
“Raspberry lemon!”
“Do they have m&ms?”
“Vanilla please!”
Chad just sighed as he typed in the orders. He was never living this down. He just hoped the bakery could deliver their goods before the rest of the Caregivers came back.