[Ficlet & Art] Operation: Birthday Cake
This post was done as an accompaniment to Piipa's fic/art post. We were talking about the Schwarz household, and this is what we ended up with. >D
See Piipa's post here. ♥ *loves*
Title: Operation: Birthday Cake
Characters: Brad Crawford, Schuldig, Naoe Nagi
Rating: G
Summary: Baking with Crawford
Operation: Birthday Cake
It all started yesterday, when the German telepath reported back his findings to his fearless leader. This was a mission like no other, so he had taken special care not to be detected while he covertly infiltrated the mind of their resident hacker. His subsequent report to the oracle was received thus:
"....a what?? Are you sure about that?" Crawford leaned across the desk as though to hear him better.
"I'm positive," came the reply.
"Hn." Crawford leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. This wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. Some things were beyond comprehension; the secret desires of a teenager being one of them. "And you're sure it wasn't something for his computer, or a game, anything?"
"Pfft, don't you know anything, Crawford?" Schuldig snorted. "We buy him all the gadgets he needs. Well, except maybe a scanner, heh. He downloads everything else."
And before Crawford could respond to that, the telepath continued, "So why would he want that?" He was answering the question he saw on the older man's face. "Don't ask me, man. I just got the info and got out of there. He would've discovered me snooping around if I delved in too deep."
"....fine." The oracle suppressed a sigh and started making mental notes of what he needed to get from the store to complete this mission.
Schuldig smirked because he could almost see the gears going to work in the man's head. And just to piss him off, he said, "You know, I'm kinda handy in the kitchen. Why don't you let me--"
"Don't even think about it."
Nagi had once surmised that Crawford would be an excellent baker, and he was right. Baking was a meticulous craft that required precision, calculation and timing. Traits that were innate to the leader of Schwarz. In this type of cooking there would be none of this "eyeballing" crap that the insufferable Rachel Ray of 30-minute meals fame subscribed to. (And no, it actually took 32 or even 33 and a half minutes sometimes to make her "30-minute meals." Crawford knew this because...well, this is a matter for another time). With baking, everything had to be perfectly measured - from the amount of flour to the degrees of preheating. This was a concept that surely eluded that ditzy goddess of "EVOO."
Thankfully, this type of operation was right up Crawford's alley.
There really was no one else in the household who could do it. Schuldig was an absolute horror in the kitchen. He would throw together miscellaneous ingredients into a wok and sear them beyond recognition and call it dinner. Farfarello might actually be an acceptable chef, but he couldn't be trusted in the same room with all those stainless steel kitchen knives. Nagi could cook, but obviously no one expected him to make this for himself. Anyway, it was supposed to be somewhat of a surprise.
And so it was that the task fell upon Crawford and his capable hands. Hands that were currently enclosed in heart patterned oven mits for the purpose of lifting an exquisite vanilla sponge cake from the oven. The cake had risen to perfection in exactly 26 minutes in a 350 degree oven.
"Now that smells damn good," Schuldig snickered as he sauntered into the kitchen. He eyed Crawford up and down appreciatively.
Crawford was wearing a shirt and tie, of course, but with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. There was a slight beading of sweat on his forehead from the oven's heat, which he had not yet wiped away with his handkerchief. Coupled with his pink oven mits and crisp apron complete with "Kiss the Chef" logo, the man looked damn near domestic.
His eyebrow twitched as he caught Schuldig's smirk. If it turned out later that the telepath had lied to him yesterday so he could see him in this state, there would be hell to pay.
Schuldig walked up behind him and tucked his hand at Crawford's elbow, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
"Baby, you did good," he chuckled as he nuzzled against his neck.
"Schuldig, you had better not--"
Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the appearance of the birthday boy himself, who padded into the kitchen to open the fridge. As he popped his head back out, he turned to look at his two older teammates.
Opening the can of ginger ale he'd just retrieved from the fridge, Nagi grimaced and said, "Can't you two keep it zipped up, on my birthday at least?"
Schuldig grinned. "Hey, that's no way to talk to your mommy and daddy. Especially when we're getting you exactly what your little heart desired for your sweet sixteen."
A pause.
Crawford's eyebrow twitched again.
Nagi stood there for a moment longer before turning to leave. But not before he left them one instruction of utmost importance--
"Don't forget the birthday candles."
See Piipa's post here. ♥ *loves*
Title: Operation: Birthday Cake
Characters: Brad Crawford, Schuldig, Naoe Nagi
Rating: G
Summary: Baking with Crawford
Operation: Birthday Cake
It all started yesterday, when the German telepath reported back his findings to his fearless leader. This was a mission like no other, so he had taken special care not to be detected while he covertly infiltrated the mind of their resident hacker. His subsequent report to the oracle was received thus:
"....a what?? Are you sure about that?" Crawford leaned across the desk as though to hear him better.
"I'm positive," came the reply.
"Hn." Crawford leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. This wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. Some things were beyond comprehension; the secret desires of a teenager being one of them. "And you're sure it wasn't something for his computer, or a game, anything?"
"Pfft, don't you know anything, Crawford?" Schuldig snorted. "We buy him all the gadgets he needs. Well, except maybe a scanner, heh. He downloads everything else."
And before Crawford could respond to that, the telepath continued, "So why would he want that?" He was answering the question he saw on the older man's face. "Don't ask me, man. I just got the info and got out of there. He would've discovered me snooping around if I delved in too deep."
"....fine." The oracle suppressed a sigh and started making mental notes of what he needed to get from the store to complete this mission.
Schuldig smirked because he could almost see the gears going to work in the man's head. And just to piss him off, he said, "You know, I'm kinda handy in the kitchen. Why don't you let me--"
"Don't even think about it."
Nagi had once surmised that Crawford would be an excellent baker, and he was right. Baking was a meticulous craft that required precision, calculation and timing. Traits that were innate to the leader of Schwarz. In this type of cooking there would be none of this "eyeballing" crap that the insufferable Rachel Ray of 30-minute meals fame subscribed to. (And no, it actually took 32 or even 33 and a half minutes sometimes to make her "30-minute meals." Crawford knew this because...well, this is a matter for another time). With baking, everything had to be perfectly measured - from the amount of flour to the degrees of preheating. This was a concept that surely eluded that ditzy goddess of "EVOO."
Thankfully, this type of operation was right up Crawford's alley.
There really was no one else in the household who could do it. Schuldig was an absolute horror in the kitchen. He would throw together miscellaneous ingredients into a wok and sear them beyond recognition and call it dinner. Farfarello might actually be an acceptable chef, but he couldn't be trusted in the same room with all those stainless steel kitchen knives. Nagi could cook, but obviously no one expected him to make this for himself. Anyway, it was supposed to be somewhat of a surprise.
And so it was that the task fell upon Crawford and his capable hands. Hands that were currently enclosed in heart patterned oven mits for the purpose of lifting an exquisite vanilla sponge cake from the oven. The cake had risen to perfection in exactly 26 minutes in a 350 degree oven.
"Now that smells damn good," Schuldig snickered as he sauntered into the kitchen. He eyed Crawford up and down appreciatively.
Crawford was wearing a shirt and tie, of course, but with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. There was a slight beading of sweat on his forehead from the oven's heat, which he had not yet wiped away with his handkerchief. Coupled with his pink oven mits and crisp apron complete with "Kiss the Chef" logo, the man looked damn near domestic.
His eyebrow twitched as he caught Schuldig's smirk. If it turned out later that the telepath had lied to him yesterday so he could see him in this state, there would be hell to pay.
Schuldig walked up behind him and tucked his hand at Crawford's elbow, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
"Baby, you did good," he chuckled as he nuzzled against his neck.
"Schuldig, you had better not--"
Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the appearance of the birthday boy himself, who padded into the kitchen to open the fridge. As he popped his head back out, he turned to look at his two older teammates.
Opening the can of ginger ale he'd just retrieved from the fridge, Nagi grimaced and said, "Can't you two keep it zipped up, on my birthday at least?"
Schuldig grinned. "Hey, that's no way to talk to your mommy and daddy. Especially when we're getting you exactly what your little heart desired for your sweet sixteen."
A pause.
Crawford's eyebrow twitched again.
Nagi stood there for a moment longer before turning to leave. But not before he left them one instruction of utmost importance--
"Don't forget the birthday candles."