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Connor smiled, humming as he walked back into the Anderson home, bags in his hands swinging from side to side. He’d just been grocery shopping, a little task to take off Hank’s plate, intending only to get the essentials… But then he saw all of the new Christmas stock in the store and he had to indulge.
With a so far pitiful salary at the DPD, he couldn’t go all out, but one thing in particular had caught his eye: a gingerbread house.
Not any gingerbread house. A DIY one. DIY to the extent that you had to put the pieces together, but not that you’d have to actually do any cooking. Cooking and him… they had a tense history.
“You seem in a good mood.” Hank commented, from where he was sat in the living room, feet propped out in front of him. “Is grocery shopping really that fun?”
“No. It’s quite boring.”
“Ah, right… I feel like I’m missin’ something.” He put his book down beside him. “Spill it.”
“Spill what?”
“What’s got you smirking like that. You didn’t change all my food shopping to salad again, did you?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not so close to Christmas.” Connor placed the bags on the kitchen table, rifling around inside. “I did get something a little extra.”
“Don’t let it be another toy for Sumo. You’re spoiling the damn mutt.”
Connor shook his head, finally finding the package. He paused for a moment before pulling the kit out with a sense of dramatic flair. “Ta-da.”
“Uh… Fuck, I’ve got to get up and come over there to see what it is?”
“Of course. If you want to help me make it.”
Hearing the words ‘food’ and ‘make’ in one conversation was enough to get Hank scrambling to his feet.
“Connor, I swear to god, I know you want to learn how to cook but—oh.”
“Yes. I know I can’t cook yet. This doesn’t require any cooking.”
“Huh…” Hank picked up the kit, turning the box over. “Nah, it doesn’t. What made you buy this?”
“I thought it might be fun. Making a gingerbread house is a Christmas tradition I’ve yet to take part in.”
“Yeah, same for me. Guess it’d be a Christmas first for the both of us.”
“So… does that mean you’ll help me make it?”
“Sure. What have we got to lose?”
Hank quickly learned that it was his sanity he had to lose.
The gingerbread house required no cooking and yet it was a disaster. The pieces seemed like they should slot together perfectly but the whole thing was falling down. The flaw in their plan: this did require some level of skill. The skill to make runny icing hold together bits of gingerbread that just didn’t want to stay together as a house.
“Hank, the house is falling down again!”
He looked on in despair as the house’s roof, placed only seconds again, wavered before crumbling into the middle. The walls quickly followed suit.
“For fuck’s sake, you gotta be an architect to get this shit together!” Try as he might, the house wouldn’t stay back in shape for more than a few seconds.
“…I think we might have to give up.”
“You think?”
Connor sighed, staring at the decimated gingerbread house. “Well, it isn’t a… a complete failure. With the little gingerbread men around the outside, it looks like a scene. Of sorts.”
“Looks like their fuckin’ house got demolished and they’re in shock.”
“I didn’t say it was a happy scene.”
Hank shook his head, hands on his hips, poking at one of the gingerbread men. It flopped onto its front, face landing in the thick layer of icing.
He snorted, then started to laugh. He didn’t know why but something about it was just so funny, he couldn’t stop himself. Bent over at the middle, failing to stop himself despite the fact that this shouldn’t be funny! It was a disaster! The gingerbread household was in ruins and it was all their fault!
Shaking his head, he managed to get himself under control, only to see Connor was still chuckling.
“Why are we like this?”
Connor shrugged, watched Hank pull the gingerbread man off the board, stuff him into his mouth, and broke back down into laughter.