Chapter Text
“Dad! You came!”
The door was only halfway open before Hebe was across the threshold, giving her father a bone-crushing hug that earned her a good-natured laugh. Hebe had expected nothing less from her father, but it was still fun to rib him just a little. Particularly given the itinerary for their morning.
“Of course I came,” Zeus replied indignantly, right on cue.
Hebe snorted, and ushered her father into the house, shutting the door behind him. There would be no escape for him today, she decided. They would see this through, even if it burnt her entire home to the ground. Which, given Zeus’ track record, was a distinct possibility.
“I thought you might get cold feet,” Hebe confessed, taking his jacket to hang on the rack. “I know this isn’t exactly within your comfort zone.”
“Well, you asked so nicely I couldn’t just say no.” Zeus winked knowingly, and followed Hebe down the hallway towards her kitchen.
There was a distinct pep in her step, unable to contain her excitement at what was to come. She had already prepped the kitchen, ingredients organized across the counter in order of need, with her heavy duty mixer and numerous measuring cups on standby. Hebe had purposefully arranged everything in such a foolproof manner, there was no way her father could mess this up.
Well, there was still a way. But Hebe hoped it was enough.
“What are we making?” Zeus asked, regarding the baking equipment wearily. He had something of a reputation among the Olympians. He had ruined many a meal with his attempts to cook, and was permanently banned from numerous kitchens on Olympus. She couldn’t blame him for being nervous.
“I figured we would start with something super easy,” Hebe instructed, handing her father an apron while she tugged one on herself. His was frilly, and pink, but was the only one she owned that might fit him. “Chocolate chip cookies.”
Zeus donned the apron without complaining, hiding his fancy designer slacks and silk button-up behind gaudy pink. “I like cookies. But I’ve heard baking can be easy to mess up. Is that true?”
Figures he had never even tried baking. “Compared to anything else we could make? No, not really. I’m going to walk you through every single step.”
Hebe busied herself with the early stages of preparation, grabbing two mixing bowls. She preheated the oven and grabbed the first few ingredients for the cookies. Her father watched curiously, hands twisting the edge of his apron.
“Okay! We need to melt some butter. I’ve already measured it out, so you should just put it in the microwave for like… thirty seconds?”
Zeus nodded, grabbing the bowl of unmelted butter off the counter. He opened the microwave, and placed the bowl inside. “... Like thirty seconds? Or thirty seconds?”
Right. She needed to be very clear with this obvious beginner. Swallowing back a snicker, Hebe flashed him a smile instead. “Try thirty seconds. If it’s not melted all the way, try another ten.”
Zeus nodded, and entered the allotted time. “Great. Now what?”
“Now we need to put white sugar, brown sugar, an egg, and some vanilla in this bowl. Use this measuring cup, and fill it all the way to the top with sugar.” Hebe handed her father the correct tool, and watched carefully as he measured. Aside from taking an exorbitant amount of time to do so, he placed the sugar in the bowl without issue. Hebe instructed him to do similar with the brown sugar, when the microwaved beeped and she moved to pull out the butter.
Which was… molten?
She had never seen butter hiss and pop so violently, and she nearly dropped her bowl in alarm. The microwave had certainly only been going for thirty seconds, so it wasn’t like her father could have messed it up already, right? Setting the bowl on the counter, Hebe plastered on another smile for her father who looked over in concern.
“Everything alright?” He asked.
“Great!” Hebe squeaked. “We’re just going to let that cool for a sec…”
She snatched up the vanilla and measured it out herself to avoid any disaster there, but then handed her father the egg. “Okay, crack that in the bowl.”
Zeus blinked, staring despairingly. “Right.”
He didn’t move.
“Dad, hit it against the edge of the bowl and pull it apart.”
“... Right. ”
He tapped the egg against the edge of the bowl, but hardly made a dent in the shell. Frowning, he glanced up at Hebe who encouraged him to try again. He hit once more, harder this time, and grinned as the shell cracked and split open.
Only, as he attempted to wrench it apart, the entire shell splintered and collapsed into the bowl below.
“Oh, that’s, er… That’s okay! We can just pick the shells out!”
“Are they not supposed to go in there?”
“Not.. not usually, no. But that’s alright!”
Hebe elbowed her father to the side as kindly as she could, and began to pick out the splintered pieces of egg shell. Fortunately, the butter wasn’t in the bowl yet to make her life even more difficult, and eventually, she was ninety percent certain all the shell was out.
“Sorry,” Zeus murmured. “I’m really not good with this sort of thing.”
“I know,” Hebe assured him. “We all suck before we learn!”
“Are you saying I suck?”
“Uh…”
Zeus smirked. “You’d be right, of course.”
Hebe snorted, somewhat in relief, before returning to the butter. It seemed less angry than it had before, so she chanced it and dumped it into the bowl. “Okay, now we have to mix it all together.”
She heaved the bowl onto its perch on her mixer, lowering the utensil into the dish. “All you have to do is press this button, and make sure these all mix together really nicely.”
Swapping places with her father, Hebe measured out the flour and poured it into another bowl. She reached for the baking soda, and realized in a moment of panic that she had actually grabbed the baking powder. Wow, that was close. She’d have to -
“Ugh!”
Batter splattered against the countertop. The mixing bowl had gone haywire, thumping around in its slot. Zeus panicked and backed away, forcing Hebe to intervene. She hurried to the machine and shut it off, the violent thudding coming to an end.
“Why did you increase it?” Hebe asked, trying to keep her voice level.
“I didn’t,” Zeus insisted. “I was simply watching it.”
Hebe took a breath and smiled again. “I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you measure out some baking soda for me with this measuring cup here.”
For the briefest of moments, Hebe wondered if her father was purposefully sabotaging their baking attempts, but she shoved that line of thinking to the side. That would be ridiculous. Zeus hated people drawing attention to his lack of ability in the kitchen, so it would be silly to assume.
He just sucked, that was all there was to it. No matter. She swore she would make a baker out of him, and she still intended to do so.
“Is the salt next?” Zeus asked, almost timidly, as Hebe wiped the little bit of batter off of the counter.
“Yes, a quarter teaspoon.”
The rest seemed to go off without a hitch. They mixed the batter together, rolled the dough into circles, and placed them on a baking tray. Her father seemed to relax some as they worked, as the hardest parts had been taken care of with minimal mishap. The only thing left to do now was place the cookies in the oven.
“Alright, they only need about ten minutes…” Hebe explained, setting a timer on her oven. “And now we wait! Ten minutes from now, we’ll be able to determine whether or not you can bake.”
“Right…” Zeus said, laughing quietly. “I hope it’s a good verdict.”
“Me too. Now, help me clean up.”
The clean-up process went well, too. Her father did dishes while she put the ingredients away, tucking them neatly into their designated locations. Once that was done, she made him a cup of coffee and hung up their aprons. They chatted for a while, about her yoga classes and his modeling, and finally-
“These ten minutes are taking forever,” Hebe frowned, climbing from her dining room chair. The oven looked desolate. No timer was displayed, no light in the oven itself. As Hebe approached, throwing open the oven door, minimal heat met her. The cookies were half melted puddles of dough on the tray.
“Did the power go out?” Hebe asked, glancing up at the overhead lights. Still on. “My oven’s off!”
“You turned a timer on,” Zeus pointed out. “I watched you.”
“I was there!” Hebe cried, exasperated. She tugged the stove out from its place against the wall, and tried plugging it back in. Sure enough, the oven turned back on, beeping.
A lightbulb flashed in Hebe’s mind.
“It’s you!” She pointed a finger at her father, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re messing with the electricity, or something.”
“What?” Zeus’ eyes widened, and the surprise on his face told her it wasn’t on purpose. “But I- How?”
“You’re nervous,” Hebe declared. “You don’t want to mess this up, and it’s making everything go haywire. It explains the butter, and the mixer, and now this. Jeez, Dad, you gotta lighten up.”
Zeus wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee, frowning down at his hands. “Maybe. I’ll just, er… Stay over here. You finish those up and see if it makes a difference.”
Hebe pulled the tray out of the oven, set it to heat once more, and prayed the sudden change in temperature wouldn’t ruin everything. The two of them hardly made conversation as they waited, watching the timer dwindle down. Hebe checked the cookies relentlessly.
By the time they were ready to come out, Zeus’ knee was bouncing up and down. Hebe reached in with an oven mitt, pulled the cookies free, and…
The cookies didn’t look right.
“Well?” Zeus asked, rising from his chair to look at the cookies.
Hebe frowned. “The only way to know is to try one. Here, dad.”
She handed him a cookie and took one herself. They locked eyes and each took a bite.
Zeus immediately spit his back out into his hand. Hebe fought to chew through hers, but failed miserably and spat it into the garbage can.
“Why is it so salty?” Zeus winced.
“How much salt did you put in?” Hebe asked.
“As much as you told me to!”
She stormed over to the drying rack, lifting the dishes on top to reveal the measuring utensils. “Which one of these did you use?”
Zeus huffed, following after her with as much drama as she had. “That one! The one you told me to.”
Hebe stared. Then, she let out a series of abrupt giggles. “Dad, this isn’t a teaspoon, it’s a tablespoon.”
“They aren’t the same thing?”
“No!” She ran a hand over her face, still giggling. “No, they aren’t, and… Oh no.”
Zeus crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. “What?”
“I forgot to swap the baking powder and baking soda.”
“And those aren’t the same thing?”
“No, they aren’t. I guess this was partially my fault,” Hebe sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. The entire situation was too funny, too ridiculous, and the laughter just kept on coming. Eventually, she laughed so hard her father joined in, his deep rumble mixing with her high-pitched shrieks.
“Hebe, I’m sorry I’m so useless.” Zeus sank back into his chair, wiping at his eyes. “I warned you.”
“I really thought I could do it. I thought I could teach you something about baking,” Hebe confessed, sitting down opposite her father.
“My sisters have tried for ages, and never with any luck,” Zeus said. “It’s not you, Hebe. Really.”
“Yeah, I think you are kind of hopeless,” Hebe agreed. “We should have started with something simpler, like a sandwich.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to cut any of the vegetables, we can try that next time.” Zeus winked. “Thank you for trying, anyway.”
“It was fun! Even if the cookies are horrible.”
“Should we head to the bakery instead?”
“Please!”