Chapter Text
Atsumu and Osamu turn six in October. You plan to make a huge chocolate cake, just the way they like, with chocolate icing and a little green icing frog right in the center. You know the boys have been obsessed with edible animals lately, begging you to pull out the animal-shaped cookie cutters everytime you baked.
Step one, gather and measure the ingredients.
Osamu learns to cook over the course of the summer. It starts with him shaping onigiri for lunch, and it eventually develops into him making eggs and even cookies by your side. He likes to cook, pulling his stool over next to you, while you prepare lunch or dinner or even bake something sweet on the weekends.
Shinsuke loves your apple crumble, so you pick up some nice apples from the supermarket, and press them into Osamu’s hands along with a kid-friendly vegetable peeler. Osamu barely scrapes anything off the apple at first, so you take his hands in yours, guiding him through the motions of peeling an apple.
“Here,” you say, showing him how to drag the peeler down the circumference of the apple.
Osamu watches in quiet concentration before repeating the action for himself.
He holds out a golden apple to you, beaming with pride at his first peeled apple. Eventually, you move him on to making the crumble mixture. He’s thrilled to mix the butter and sugar and flour mixture into crumbs with his hands, giggling with delight as the mixture squeezes from his palms like a thick paste.
Later, while the crumble is baking, Osamu dozes off in your arms, a flour smudge on his cheek.
Step two, Cream the butter and sugar.
Berry season is here. Shinsuke knows a farmer down the road who has a berry farm and who’s more than happy to allow the boys to pick some berries from the bushes. You give them each a bucket, smear sunscreen on their face despite Atsumu’s protests, and pull their hats down on their face so they have adequate shade.
“Say bye to yer mother,” Shinsuke instructs, kissing your cheek.
The boys rush over and hug and kiss you goodbye, heading out to the family car, where Shinsuke awaits.
When they arrive at the berry farm, they take off in the direction of the bushes, sampling the berries immediately. Shinsuke tuts when he notices their empty baskets and their red stained lips and cheeks, guilty expressions weighing their tiny faces down.
“C’mon,” he smiles fondly, taking their hands and walking them down to his favourite bush in the farm. Shinsuke always had good luck with the berries there.
Osamu plucks the berries a little indiscriminately, while Atsumu only picks the ripest, juiciest berries, totally missing out on some of the smaller sized gems. With a sigh, Shinsuke kneels in front of his sons, showing them how to pick the berries. He wraps his hands around Osamu and Atsumu’s hands, showing them how to twist the berries off the stems, plucking them safely and putting them in their baskets.
He watches their improved berry picking skills with a smile, carrying the both of them in his arms when the afternoon hits and they’re tired from being on their feet the whole day. Atsumu yawns and buries his face in the crook of his neck, while Osamu sneaks a few berries from his loot.
Step three, sift the flour into a bowl. Add the cocoa powder and sugar.
Visiting Shinsuke’s extended family in Akita prefecture in the dead of winter meant your first day there was a snow day. Atsumu was thrilled, glued to the window as the white snow fell from the sky, begging you to let him out to play. Shinsuke was sent with him, both bundled up and with the instruction to return after half an hour.
Osamu was too tired to go out. He came out of his bedroom, saw that you had the space heater on downstairs and laid by your side on the sofa, falling back asleep. You stroke his hair as you watch your husband and son play in the snow. Osamu grumbles something as he emerges from sleep, shifting so he could lay in your lap.
“Yes, baby?” You ask, running your fingers through his fringe.
“Cocoa,” he mumbles.
“C’mon,” you tell him, holding his hand and walking to the kitchen. He sits on a stool, watching with rapt attention as you heat the milk on the stove and add real chocolate chunks in, plus a scoop of nutella the way he likes. You serve his cocoa to him, saving a bit for Atsumu who’s now coming back in from his snow day. Shinsuke helps Atsumu out of his thick winter jacket, dusting the snowflakes from his hair.
Atsumu jogs over, climbing on a stool next to his brother and poking Osamu with cold fingers. Osamu whines, shifting away from his brother. You place a mug of warm cocoa in front of Atsumu, watching him try to blow the steam away.
Shinsuke loops his arms around you, cold fingers brushing a sliver of exposed skin on your stomach. You yelp, causing him to laugh and kiss your lips softly.
Step four, mix the dry and wet ingredients. Pour into a tin and bake.
Ojiro Aran stands apologetically on your doorstep, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. A disgruntled Rintarou is half-asleep in your arms.
“Please,” he says, “the babysitter bailed last minute and I really need someone to watch Rinnie while I’m out of town for the weekend.”
“Sure,” you agree, taking Rintarou into your arms- he’s considerably lighter than your own boys- and his travel bag from Aran. Rintarou buries his face in your shoulder, groaning sleepily when you set him down on the sofa while you prepare a futon for him. It’s still early, so your boys are fast asleep in their beds.
Atsumu eventually rises from the commotion of you setting the futon on their bedroom floor, peering down at you from his bunkbed.
“Yes?” You whisper.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
“Your friend Rintarou is here. I’m setting up a futon for him.”
And then, Atsumu yells at the top of his lungs, “Osamu! Rintarou’s here!”
Osamu startles, about to burst into tears before you very quickly shift to his side, stroking his hair and coaxing him back to sleep. With a stern warning, you remind Atsumu not to disturb his brother. You help him down, bringing him downstairs where Rintarou is sleeping so he can play with his friend.
Luckily, Rintarou is awake by the time you return, looking glumly at his sock-clad feet.
“Morning, Rintarou,” you say, patting his hair down, “Your dad says you’re staying with us for a few days. Atsumu’s already awake, so why don’t you play with him for a bit?”
He nods, hopping off the sofa and joining Atsumu, who’s playing with blocks on the living room floor. Osamu joins them eventually, crawling down the stairs sleepily and sitting next to the other two boys with a soft thud. You let them play for a bit while you sort out something for breakfast. Mercifully, Shinsuke’s brewed coffee for you before he left for the fields, so you take a sip from your mug while you toast bread and fry an omelette.
“Mommy,” Atsumu’s voice wobbles as he enters the kitchen.
You turn around, startled to find him near tears. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Samu and Rin don’t wanna play with me anymore!” He wails, burying his face in your stomach.
You let him cry for a moment, before peeling him away. “Did they say something to you?”
“They said I was too mean and that I didn’t wanna share. But they weren’t playing with my blocks pro-properly.”
You wipe the tears off his face and walk him back to the living room. His brother is seated with Rintarou, making a colourful tower with the blocks. You call their names with a sigh, pushing Atsumu forward to go sit with them. A hug and a kiss later, and they’ve all made up, with Osamu and Rintarou promising to be more patient and Atsumu promising to share his toys.
Step five, cool the cake. Ice. Slice and serve.