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The soft, persistent knock on his bedroom door tugged at the edge of his sleep. Pond stirred, groaning quietly as his body tried to respond, but the cool, heavy air in the room seemed to lull him back down like a weighted blanket. He fought to open his eyes, failing the first few times, until,
The knock came again. Still soft yet this time it was firmer.
His eyes flew open, blinking against the dim light spilling in from the window, he realized it was early—close to dawn, perhaps. The sky outside was a muted lavender, half-asleep like the rest of the world.
He groaned again, stretching his arms over his head with a sigh that could rival a dying man’s last breath. He sat up, ruffling his hair and glancing beside him to find the figure still fast asleep, curled up under the blanket like a burrito.
Good thing Phuwin’s a heavy sleeper, Pond thought.
He swung his legs over the bed, rubbed his face dramatically for effect, and shuffled toward the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. A few minutes later, now slightly more awake but still mildly regretting every life decision that led to this hour, he tiptoed out of the bedroom—closing the door gently behind him so his husband wouldn’t stir.
And then he saw her.
The sight that met him just outside his door would always be—no matter how many times he lived it—the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. His six-year-old daughter stood there in her oversized pajamas, a Hello Kitty doll clutched tightly to her chest, her dark hair messy and sticking up in little tufts. She looked up at him with those wide, doe eyes that were adorably, unmistakably, reminds him of Phuwin’s.
“Daddy! What took you so long?” she whisper-shouted, her tiny feet doing a little stomp.
“Sorry,” Pond whispered back, crouching to her level with a sleepy smile. “Daddy was very sleepy. And isn’t it too early for all this?”
“No. Papa wakes up at seven,” Lily declared, hands on hips, “and what time is it now ?”
The way she said it—with so much self-importance and absolute belief in her facts—made Pond chuckle. He looked at his wrist instinctively, only to remember his watch was on the nightstand. He fished his phone from his pocket instead.
5:30 AM.
“We only have one and a half hours left until Papa wakes up,” he whispered, holding up the phone for her to see.
Her eyes widened comically. “ We’re late! ”
Before he could say anything, she gasped and tugged on his hand with all the strength her tiny body could muster. “C’mon, Daddy! We need to hurry! ”
She was still whispering, but with the intensity of a secret agent on a life-or-death mission, and that made Pond laugh harder than he should’ve. His heart turned to mush watching her lead him—well, drag him—to the kitchen.
Honestly, half the time he let her do whatever she wanted simply because she was ridiculously cute and well he was weak.
(Which, by the way, Phuwin constantly nagged him about, claiming Pond spoiled her far too much. But honestly, how was he supposed to say no to her? Besides, Phuwin had no right to judge—he received the full “Phuwin Treatment” from Pond on a regular basis and never complained.)
Once in the kitchen, Pond lifted her onto the high stool beside the counter so she could be in charge of their secret mission. She stood there like a tiny queen about to command an army.
They had planned all this last night—Lily had been too excited to sleep once she realized tomorrow was Phuwin’s birthday. She stayed up past bedtime, waiting for Phuwin to come home. Eventually, Pond had promised they would wake up early and surprise Papa with a birthday cake.
He hadn’t realized early meant before sunrise.
“It’s Papa’s birthday, and we haven’t even wished him yet,” Lily said suddenly, frowning.
Pond smiled, his thoughts drifting back to the night before. Technically, he had wished Phuwin already. When Phuwin returned home late from work, the house was dark and silent. He’d quietly made his way into their bedroom while Pond was half-asleep, teetering on the edge of dreams. Then he felt it—a familiar weight curling against his back, Phuwin nuzzling into the crook of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his nape. Pond turned, pulling him close, arms around his husband’s waist, whispering a barely-there happy birthday into his hair. Phuwin had only hummed in response, content, before slipping into sleep.
That memory warmed him even now.
“So tell me, Princess,” Pond said, returning to the present, “what are we making for your Papa?”
Lily tapped her chin dramatically. “Can we make a Hello Kitty cake?”
Pond blinked. “Do I look like I can make that?”
“I can make it,” she said, dead serious, with the confidence of someone who once saw a YouTube video.
He laughed. “How about you make it when you’re older and have your own bakery? Daddy doesn’t want to ruin your dreams.”
She nodded. “Okay. We’ll make a chocolate cake then.”
He raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised she gave in so easily. “You sure?”
“Yes. And Daddy, don’t worry—I’ll help you. Just follow me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And so the chaos began.
As they started—or more accurately, he started—scrolling through his phone, fishing out the simplest chocolate cake recipe he could find.
Because, sure, he’d made a promise to his daughter, and yes, he was determined to surprise his husband, but somewhere between the planning and the actual doing, he’d conveniently forgotten one crucial detail: his cooking skills were not exactly Michelin-star material.
Not that he was completely hopeless—he could cook well enough to survive. You know, basic, no-frills stuff that gets him through the day. But baking? Baking was a whole different battlefield. That was firmly Phuwin’s territory.
Honestly, if we’re being real, Lily probably knew more about baking than he did at this point. She’d been Phuwin’s tiny sous-chef for months now, picking up little tricks and techniques Pond couldn’t pronounce, let alone execute.
However he still found the easiest chocolate cake recipe on his phone—one that promised anyone can do it. He hoped that anyone included sleep-deprived dads with zero baking skills. As he scrambled around the kitchen, Lily sat on the counter offering advice every five minutes, most of which was just her reminding him, I’m here to help.
Some help she was.
It didn’t take long before things spiraled.
First, he cracked an egg straight into the bowl—and half the shell with it.
Then, while attempting to mix the ingredients, he accidentally set the beater to full speed. The flour exploded like confetti, coating his bare chest, face, and hair. Lily squealed in glee while Pond stood there, looking like a victim of a bakery explosion.
The final straw came when he tried melting the chocolate—only to burn it around the edges. He yelped when the hot dish grazed his fingers, instinctively jerking back and knocking two bowls off the counter.
CRASH.
The noise was loud. Like, house-shaking loud.
Pond and Lily stared at each other, frozen.
Silence.
“Do you think we—” Pond began.
“What’s going on?” came a familiar, groggy-yet-panicked voice from behind.
Pond slowly rose from behind the counter, holding a cracked bowl in one hand like a soldier returning from war.
There stood Phuwin—barefoot, tousled, eyes wide and scanning the battlefield. The kitchen looked like it had survived an earthquake. Or lost to one.
And in the middle of it all was Lily, who launched herself off the counter with zero warning and ran straight into her Papa’s arms.
“We were making a cake for you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But it’s a surprise. ”
Phuwin blinked, stunned, still processing the scene: flour-covered Pond, half-melted chocolate, utensils scattered like shrapnel.
Pond, meanwhile, quietly slid the disaster of a cake batter into a pan and shoved it into the oven—still determined to salvage the surprise.
Phuwin looked at him over Lily’s shoulder, blinking slowly—like his brain was still buffering, trying to reboot itself from sleep mode and make sense of what he was seeing.
Lily clung to him tightly, her face buried in his chest while Pond stood there in flour-dusted trousers and a suspicious smear of chocolate on his cheek, pretending everything was completely fine—even though the kitchen looked like it had been used as a set for The Great War: Pastry Edition .
“We... were going to surprise you,” Pond said after a beat, motioning vaguely to the oven like it somehow justified everything. He gave Phuwin a sheepish grin. “Happy birthday, love.”
Phuwin looked from him to Lily and then around the room, blinking again as if trying to confirm that this wasn’t still a dream. “Surprise me with a kitchen explosion?”
“No! With cake,” Lily chirped, now looking very pleased with herself. “A Hello Kitty one.”
Pond cleared his throat and interjected quickly. “ Simple chocolate cake. We revised the plan.”
Phuwin stared at the flour on the floor and some smeared on kitchen cabnits. “Clearly.”
Pond couldn’t help it—he laughed. Loud and warm and almost disbelieving. “Listen, don’t look at the mess. Look at the effort.”
“I am looking at the effort,” Phuwin muttered, lifting Lily higher in his arms with ease. “And it’s all over your chest. Your face. And—” he squinted, “—pretty sure there’s some in your hair too.”
Pond blinked, glanced down at himself, and let out a dramatic sigh. He was absolutely coated in flour. He looked like he’d been in a snowstorm in a bakery during an earthquake.
Phuwin turned his attention to Lily then, carefully scanning her from head to toe. “Did you get caught in your daddy’s flour explosion too?”
Lily, still cradled against his chest, shook her head very seriously. “Nope. I dodged.”
Pond pointed at her, “ She dodged. You hear that? She abandoned me. ”
Phuwin smirked, already raising his hand for a high-five. “Smart girl,” he said as Lily beamed and slapped her tiny palm against his.
Pond watched the two of them, still dusted in flour like a powdered donut, and felt a deep, familiar fondness rise in his chest—just barely outweighing his indignation.
Phuwin’s smirk lingered for a moment longer, but then his gaze drifted around the kitchen, and Pond saw it—the shift.
His husband’s eyes moved slowly, taking in the flour-splattered countertops, the streak of chocolate on the cabinet, and the broken eggshells scattered like debris after a food-based battle. He exhaled through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching, and his expression began to flatten.
Pond caught it and raised a brow.
“You’re impressed,” he said smugly.
“I’m—”
“Say it.”
“I’m impressed no one got electrocuted,” Phuwin deadpanned, but the soft fondness in his voice gave him away.
Pond smirked.
“Daddy burned the chocolate,” Lily added helpfully.
“Thank you, snitch,” Pond said, placing a hand over his heart.
Phuwin shook his head, setting Lily down gently. She immediately scurried back to the counter, picking up the whisk like it was a microphone. “Can I still do the decorations?”
“The cake’s not even baked yet,” Pond said.
“I can wait, ” Lily said very seriously, and then sat cross-legged on the counter like she was meditating.
Phuwin crossed his arms and looked Pond up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on the flour sticking to his collarbone.
“You,” he said, “look like you lost a fight with a bakery.”
“I did,” Pond said proudly. “And I’m still standing.”
“You have flour in your eyelashes.”
“That’s just part of my new dad aesthetic. Tired but fabulous.”
Phuwin stepped closer, reached up, and gently brushed flour off Pond’s cheek with his thumb. His expression softened like butter left on the counter too long.
“Happy birthday again,” Pond whispered, his voice low as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Phuwin’s cheek.
Phuwin smiled, eyes crinkling, and leaned in to return the gesture—pressing a kiss to Pond’s flour-dusted cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, lips warm against his skin. Then, pulling back just slightly, he added with a teasing glint in his eyes, “But next year... maybe just stick to pancakes?”
“Next year we’re getting professional help, ” Pond replied, draping an arm lazily around his husband’s waist. “Like a Michelin chef or Gordon Ramsay. Or Lily. Just not me.”
As if on cue, a loud ding echoed through the kitchen.
All three of them turned to the oven. Pond’s eyes narrowed. “It’s either ready... or it’s retaliating.”
Phuwin raised a brow. “Did you even set a timer?”
Pond looked mildly offended. “Excuse you. I may not know how to melt chocolate without setting off the smoke alarm, but I did press the oven light like three times.”
“Which does absolutely nothing.”
“Okay, I panicked.”
Lily, meanwhile, jumped down and ran to stand between them like a tiny general taking command. “Okay okay, stop fighting. Let’s check the cake, Daddy.”
Pond opened the oven, half-expecting to see a tragedy. But surprisingly it looked decent.
Not perfect. But brown. Cake-shaped. Not collapsing. And it smelled like cake as well.
He pulled it out carefully, holding it up like he just found the last golden ticket.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, eyes wide.
“It’s... a cake,” Phuwin said, sounding genuinely shocked.
“ We made a cake! ” Lily beamed, hopping in place.
Phuwin looked at Pond again. “You actually did it.”
Pond shrugged, smug. “Never doubted me.”
“Never.” Phuwin teased.
As the cake cooled, Lily got out the sprinkles and frosting—which turned into its own adventure, complete with a spilled sugar jar, some icing on Pond’s cheeks, and Phuwin finally stepping in to help before the house turned into a gingerbread apocalypse.
Eventually, the three of them stood around the decorated cake—slightly crooked, lopsided icing, and a chaotic blend of rainbow sprinkles on only one half.
It was far from perfect. But to them? It was perfect enough.
Lily clapped. “Okay now Papa, make a wish!”
“It’s not even breakfast—”
“ MAKE A WISH. ”
Phuwin laughed softly, looked at his daughter, then at his ridiculous, flour-covered husband, and smiled.
“I already got it,” he said.
Pond rolled his eyes but smiled back.
Later that morning, as they all sat in the messy kitchen eating uneven slices of cake and laughing about the mess, Pond leaned his head on Phuwin’s shoulder, feeling tired but deeply content.
“Next year,” Phuwin said between bites, “I’m just asking for socks.”
“Next year,” Pond replied, “you’re getting a spa day. And I’m sleeping in.”
“You say that now,” Phuwin said, grinning down at him. “But Lily’s going to drag you out of bed at 5 AM again.”
“...Yeah,” Pond sighed. “And I’m gonna let her.”
Because honestly? Waking up this early for chaos like this?
Totally worth it.