Chapter Text
“Aaand, rolling!” A voice called out from the darkness; the shadows which weren’t illuminated by the stage spotlight.
Sprout and Cosmo stood side by side to each other while being behind the kitchen counter, their cooking utensils neatly displayed to the side. Sprout extended his arm to the side and gripped onto a handmixer and steel metal bowl. He then pulled it in front of him. Behind them, the diner backdrop was lined with wide stripes of fern and emerald green wallpaper. Sprout displayed a large grin with his pearly white teeth showing, as he was leaning over the counter.
x
“Today, Cosmo and I are going to bake lemon posset to share with our friends!” He exclaimed brightly, clapping his gloved hands together, his eyes glanced around the counter for something that wasn’t there. “Cosmo, could you get the cream?”
Cosmo shuffled over to the fridge behind him. His mitten-like hand reached out and opened the right side of the fridge. One the left side, was a crayon fan-made drawing of a cosmic brownie, and the title being ‘Delictable’. Cosmo soon brought back a plastic jar of cream and it up for the camera with a half-smile that faltered slightly towards the ends.
“Got it,” He said, his voice a little flat, but endearing in that way that made Sprout smile to himself. Sprout beamed, grabbing the cream and pouring it into the bowl with a little too much flair. A bit splashed onto the counter, which he didn’t seem to notice. Or he noticed and just chose to pretend it was part of the show. Hard to tell with him sometimes.
“Perfect!” Sprout chirped. “Now we’re gonna warm this up slowly. Very slowly.” He winked exaggeratedly at the camera, and somewhere offstage someone gave a little cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Cosmo, still standing a little awkwardly to the side, leaned in and whispered, a little too too close to Sprout’s mic,
“You’re supposed to tell them how much cream we’re using...”
Sprout froze. His eyes went wide for half a second before he spun around dramatically to face the camera again. “Right! Right, uh, you’ll need about two cups of heavy cream- I- or was it three..?” he laughed nervously, finger-gunning at the lens like that made up for it.
There was a long pause. Though the two toons couldn’t see much offset, they could feel eyes on them that radiated second hand embarrassment.
A muffled, “Cut!” from somewhere in the dark, and Sprout slumped over the counter with a groan. Cosmo patted him on the shoulder with a small smile.
~
“Did you not hear me?” Sam repeated, their fists slamming down onto the brittle wooden table Devan sat at. Their eyes narrowed underneath the black shades that rested on the mid-bridge of their nose. Devan tilted his own black shades down with a long sigh, before running his hands through his shaggy locks. His black left heel lifted up and down repeatedly in mild annoyance under the table as he parted his lips to speak,
“I don’t necessarily care. What happens between them is really none of our business.” he remarked.
“Dandy, newsflash- the toon you are responsible for, stole the script for Sprout and Cosmo’s cooking show. Delilah threatened to cut the episode from the show, a-and they were completely unprepared!” He repeated, gesturing with his hands while pacing back and forth.
“If they hadn’t memorised the lines then I don’t think Dandy is the problem here. He was probably just curious on what episode 3 was including.” Devan snarked, but was quickly interrupted.
“Come on, this impacts both of us. The show might be called ‘Dandy’s World’, but he’s making us all look bad. He’s made us all em> look bad.” Sam protested while jabbing their index finger at Devan. “Did you tell him to do it? Is this because I didn’t want Sprout on the pre-release?”
Devan pushed himself further into his chair, letting it creak as he leaned into the back. “Oh please, Sam," He groaned. "You think I’m
plotting some master plan because I didn’t get my way?" That was exactly what they thought. That Devan was a scheming little bastard
cahooting with his toon to orchestrate Sprout’s downfall. Sam opened their mouth to retort- but the door to the conference room opened with a
drawn-out creak.
Delilah Keen stood in the doorway, her black leather flats tapping lightly as she made her way inside. Originally dismissing the two, she
slouched down at her seat at the head of the long table and opened up her laptop, the blue light illuminating her face.
"So, is there a reason I heard shouting like Gardenview is in some second-rate soap opera?" She spoke, tossing her straight brunette locks
over her shoulder. She pciked up her now-cold disposable cup of coffee from the table and took a long, drawn-out sip. "Don’t get me wrong, I
don’t care who started it. If either of you thinks you're irreplaceable, think again." Her eyes darted in around the screen in front of her, not
bothering to spare either of them a look. Sam opened their mouth to explain their devastating dilemma—only for Devan to cut in with a quiet
snicker which caught their attention.
"You’re out of line."
Sam froze, their mouth dropping. "Devan despite being… well, Devan, is for whatever reason being more reasonable than whatever mess this is," Delilah scorned, gesturing to Sam with the flick of her wrist. "If Sprout and Cosmo can't be recorded without a piece of paper in front of them, that’s a failure of their fault—not Dandy's curiosity. I expect better from the whole team, not just from one of our toons."
Devan smirked smugly at this, adjusting his sunglasses and shooting Sam a sideways glance.
"If I hear one more whisper like this, about any of you blaming each other for your assigned toons, you're both out." Delilah finished, before beginning to type, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
Sam swallowed hard, their face burning with humiliation that was brighter than their orange hair. "But I need this job-" They retorted quietly. Devan however, scowled. He didn’t start this argument, and he was sure as hell that Dandy wouldn’t get along with Sprout if he asked him to.
But, he had a different idea. As he leaned back forward, his elbows on the table, he pondered amongst the foggy blur of his grey thoughts.There was something he could do. It should work, in his opinion. He had a hunch that Dandy would agree, after hearing what Sam told him, why wouldn’t he?
~
”Pebbles, here boy!” Devan called out through the gardenview lobby with a sharp whistle that escaped through his lips.
Pebbles stared blankly, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a perpetual expression of blissful emptiness. Then—without warning—he launched himself from Devan’s grip and scuttled off again, claws clicking against the polished floor as he beelined toward the elevator. Devan blinked, then sighed and followed.
“Guess we’re taking the express,” he muttered.
The elevator chimed open just as Pebbles began pawing frantically at the button panel, yipping excitedly. Devan stepped in behind him, giving a brief nod to the intern inside, who flinched when he recognized him. Most people in Gardenview did. Devan didn’t blame them.
The elevator dinged again at the 7th floor—where the animation bays were. Pebbles dashed out like a heat-seeking missile, weaving past bewildered animators and prop artists until he rounded the corner. There, in the farthest booth—past a hand-drawn cutout of Sprout in a ridiculous apron—was Dandy.
He was reclined in a spinning chair, feet on the desk, a pencil stuck in his ear, and a pair of blue-tinted aviators covering his eyes. A headset was loosely looped around his neck. Behind him, the storyboard for Episode 4 was pinned to the corkboard in crooked, chaotic lines—partially doodled over with tiny top hats and exaggerated mustaches on every character.
Pebbles barked once, proudly, then trotted over to curl under Dandy’s desk.
Devan raised a brow. “Well. I’d say I’m impressed, but you make this place look more like a daycare than a studio.”
“No angle. Just... make it look like you and Sprout made up. I don’t care if it’s real. I don’t care if you still think he’s a walking lemon bar in a waistcoat. Just—get it on camera. Something we can feed Delilah and Sam so they shut up.”
Dandy stared at him. Then he grinned, teeth glinting with a sugary sheen.
“I have just the idea,” he purred.
~
The very next day, a hastily scheduled "Special Segment" aired between reruns of Crayon Critters and Gumball Safari. The Gardenview logo flickered before cutting to the studio kitchen, where Sprout stood in his usual spot, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“And today, Cosmo and I will be making—wait, what?” He looked down at the cue card and then up at the camera. “This wasn’t on the—”
A smoke bomb exploded stage left.
“ENTER... THE MYSTERIOUS MASCARPONE!” Dandy roared, springing out in full kitchen cosplay—chef’s hat, cloak, and glitter-dusted oven mitts. The crowd noise track played wild applause as he flipped through the air and landed in a half-squat, jazz hands outstretched.
Sprout blinked.
Cosmo dropped a spoon.
Dandy gave a wink to the camera. “I’ve come to challenge you... Sprout, to a bake-off. Winner gets... bragging rights and half a lemon posset.”
A long pause.
Then, offscreen, Delilah’s voice could be heard murmuring flatly, “Keep rolling.”
Sprout stared at Dandy for a long moment. Then his mouth twitched. Just barely.
“…Fine,” he said, grabbing a lemon and twirling it like a coin. “But only because I love winning.”
The camera zoomed in dramatically. A dramatic choral sting played.
Cosmo sighed and went to preheat the oven.
Behind the scenes, in the control room, Sam folded their arms but said nothing. Delilah sipped her coffee with the faintest smile.