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It began, like most catastrophes do, in the kitchen.
The pack was enjoying a calm morning. The older alphas and omegas were scattered around—Sebastian was reading the newspaper with his glasses halfway down his nose, Lewis was half asleep with a coffee mug that read “#1 Dad”, Jenson was feeding Lando tiny spoonfuls of yogurt.
And in the middle of this idyllic domestic peace stood a single high-pitched voice that would destroy it all.
"MAAAA!!"
Nico looked up from where he was organizing George's breakfast plate. "What now?"
George, age three, hair still bed fluffed and face suspiciously sticky from something suspiciously stolen earlier, was pointing dramatically at the cake dome on the counter.
"Wan' dat. Dat one. Da chocky."
Nico blinked. "That’s chocolate cake, Georgie. You can’t have that now. It's morning. You haven't even had your oats."
George’s mouth dropped open.
The pack should have known. Should’ve smelled the storm coming.
George blinked once.
Then again.
Then his bottom lip trembled like a leaf caught in wind.
"You… wan' me… to DIE?!"
"What—?"
"YOU WAN’ ME TO DIE!!!"
The scream shattered the room. Lando dropped his toy train. Charles jumped and started crying just out of sympathy or solidarity who knows. Max, already five and annoying, whispered dramatically, "Murder! My baby is sad!"
"No one’s dying!" Nico said quickly, reaching for George.
But the damage had been done.
George flung himself to the floor, wailing like his soul was escaping through his tear ducts. He curled into a dramatic pose, clutching his stomach.
"I… hungy... I no eat... mama no feed me…"
"George, baby, you literally have syrup all over yo—"
"NOT DA CAKE!!!"
Lewis peeked in. "What's going on?"
George gasped like he’d seen a savior.
"Papa! Papa—mama—mama starbin me! I gonna be bones soon!"
Lewis knelt next to him, blinking. "You’re… what now?"
"I be bones. No belly. No food. Mama say ‘no cake, no cake’—I cry, I cry—"
Sebastian joined in, concerned. "Did Nico really not feed you?"
Nico groaned. "Seb, you know him! He's just having a dramatic meltdown!"
George dramatically reached out to Sebastian. "I see... da light... tell... tell... Chawles… he can has my ducky..."
Charles, across the room screams in horror, "NOOOO, DUCKY!!!"
By now, the pack had gathered.
Max was standing beside George like a soldier in mourning. "He’s gonna be bones... I kiss him good!"
Jenson looked mildly alarmed. "He does look skinnier. Look at his wrist!"
"It’s his baby wrist!" Nico yelled.
George weakly waved his hand. "Don’... don’ fight... I love you all..."
Lando, silent but worried, brought George a stuffed frog. "You can hug Mr. Flop. He helps when you goin’ bones."
George sniffled. "I no deserb him…"
"You do!" Lando wailed. "You’re still my bestest fren even when bones!"
Lewis pulled Nico aside, hand on his shoulder. "Love… we need to talk. I know you’re trying this whole healthy parenting thing, but... our child is dying."
"HE'S NOT—"
Seb scooped George into his arms like a saint cradling a wounded lamb.
"It’s okay, liebling. We'll get you cake."
George sighed dreamily, cheek pressed to his shoulder. "You da nice mama..."
Max raised a brow. "Nuh-uhh! He my mama! You said he was da ‘mean eyes seb’ last week."
George blinked slowly. "He… changed."
Lewis took a photo. "This is going in the memory book."
Ten minutes later, George was on the couch, nibbling on a tiny sliver of cake under heavy supervision. His eyes sparkled. His smile was angelic. The chaos had passed.
Until he looked at Nico—arms crossed, pout deep, betrayed beyond words.
"You... no nice."
Nico rubbed his temple. "You’re not getting cake tomorrow."
George narrowed his eyes. "Then I die... for real."
Later that night, when Nico tried to tuck George in, he found a piece of paper under his pillow.
It was a crude drawing of a very specific looking stick figure George next to a tombstone.
Next to it was a devil shaped Nico holding a slice of cake and laughing.
Nico sighed. Burned the evidence. Kissed his baby goodnight.
He'd give him extra toast tomorrow. With jam. But not cake.
Absolutely not cake.
…Probably.