Chapter Text
For all the deal maker he is, he's committed one single mistake as of lately that will haunt him forever.
He didn't ask who the people he was going to counsel were, and that was his biggest mistake since that time in the ninety's when he'd tried to use contacts (thank you for nothing, Vincent).
Namely Cherri bomb, explosives enthusiast, Baxter, mad scientist, and Rooster, whose bit was missing his wife. Niffty was also there by the self-proclaimed mad scientist's side, and asked to be included in the day's activities.
Activities which were-
..
Well, one rise to power the way he did without some improvising abilities!
He regrouped the colorful bunch —His colorful bunch, mind you— and led them all to the kitchen following Niffty's idea of 'bonding over jelly'.
Passing by, he saw Charlie almost to tears (not shed on the carpet, he hopes) watching the whole scene.
He should talk them up a little, although he doesn't know how cooking could be bonding, as he himself prefers to do it with the company of his shadow only. He doesn't know how this activity could help to the redemption cause either, but as the young people say nowadays; Fuck around and Find out.
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All the ingredients they gathered from the kitchen were displayed on the table, some of the packets reminding him of the 'surprise inspections' done to the spider sinner's room to check for new coke stashes. The spider hasn't been around lately, which is weird considering his not so recent infatuation with his gambler cat. Hm, weird.
He had Baxter read the instructions out loud, on the excuse they all needed to work together for this. Whether they bought it or not was unimportant when there was so much dessert to be cook.
"Pour two mugs of boiled water in a bowl and dissolve the jelly powder, then add two mugs of cold water" The exaggerated british accent of the angler had him hold back a snort, because he had a whole nonchalant (and now therapeutic) persona to keep up and this wasn't the hill he'd die on, no matter how overjoyed he'd feel by making fun of the man.
Cherri bomb didn't have his restrainment, though, as she started cackling so much she doubled over, and in all honesty Alastor couldn't blame her.
"T- two mugs of-- boiling what Baxter" The cyclops was at tears now, looking at the angler, who now resembled the 'Mad' part of his name as he sent a death stare upon her.
"Water." He said in an ice cold voice as he looked up at the woman who was almost by his stature the way she was bending and hiding her face in her knees.
Between the intensity that the short man glared with and the way he said 'wa-huh' in the coldest voice he'd heard in years, all of Alastor restrainment dropped as he turned around, facing the countertop as he started snorting and wheezing quietly.
As much quiet as he could be with his never shutting static, anyway.
They hadn't even started with the recipe.
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Vaggi stepped into the kitchen and was hit with instant regret.
"I don't trust mugs, they killed my grandpa" She heard the chicken guest say, and when she looked over (which, noted, she will never do again, for her sake) she spotted what appeared to be Baxter —who was covered in a fuchsia substance from top to bottom— hanging by the kitchen's rail, next to the spoon and spatula.
On the countertop laid a very knocked out looking Niffty, who suddenly woke up and started (or kept on?) stirring a red juice in a plastic bowl. Next to her was Rooster, who was cleaning the dishes as they were used and looking for moulds in the cupboard.
Holding an animated chat with Rooster there was Cherri that was pouring the juice into said moulds and pouring them into the freezer.
"All in all, Vaggi?" She was startled as the demon suddenly spawned next to her, looking like he'd survived a hurricane purely out of spite. He looked blue, very blue, his chest to shoulder area looking like he'd devoured a smurf and the little fucker ruined his coat in revenge. The entirety of his hair was blue, excepting his ears.
"Why is Baxter fuchsia and on the rail?"
"How about we stop talking."
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With all the other jellies on cooling duty, they spotted the single abandoned translucent package on the countertop, the last witness of the culinary crime they had just committed.
They all keep eyeing one another, as if an omniscient being would spare their existence and make the plastic bag disappear into thin air if they ignored it for long enough.
"You bunch are all pussies" Cherri said as she walked to the countertop and grabbed the package with all the intent of eating it.
"Bet you wouldn't sniff it" Baxter —who was very much on the floor and not the rail anymore— chipped in from behind the woman.
Woman who Alastor had to hold (with his tendrils, he would appreciate not being snap in two, mind you) when he saw her dividing said powder in lines and covering one of her nostrils to, as the angler said, sniff it.
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With a fridge pretty much filled to the rim with gelatin, they parted to the lobby.
sitting on the couch, (and on the floor if you're Baxter apparently) they all looked like their terrorism attack had gone wrong and backfired their whole ass.
Charlie, and a very hesitant Vaggi, walked to them and took in their disheveled looks.
"So! How did it go guys?" Charlie asked with a overjoyed tone for she hadn't seen the war their mess of stress cooking session had been.
"We survived and that's what's important." Cherri threw in, because in wars there were no winners, only guilty survivors.
"Maybe the jelly were the friends we made along the way" Rooster said in a mocking tone that still made charlie chirp like a chicken fetus.
"The jelly is on the fridge though, we will not starve in the cold winter that awaits us" Baxter was trembling like a sick victorian child who'd catched the flu and was now on their deathbed. Commitment to the bit, if you would.
"Charlie, is the host position still available?" Alastor looked at her as if she carried water in the desert and he was about to die of dehydration.
"Not for people called Alastor" Vaggi chimed in before her girlfriend doubled down and let him in again.
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