Archive of Our Own

• Among the many problems Waterboy struggles with, he is not a natural baker. Cooking isn’t so bad — with the practice he’s had in preparing meals for his grandmother as they both got older, it stands to reason that he wouldn’t be bad at baking, either. And his grandmother, as most do, has a whole stash of treasured recipes locked away in a special box just waiting to be dusted and uncovered, which she is more than happy to foist them on him if he asks.
• But the difference here lies in how much more precision baking requires, especially on the more difficult desserts, and if you’re constantly leaving puddles on everything you touch, the composition of the finished cakes as they come out of the oven can remain a little, er, unfinished. To say the least. They somehow manage to be both still very wet and burnt from how he's tried to compensate for it.
• With that being said, he's dedicated enough to the task that he does manage to become a pretty competent baker eventually. I think cookies and cupcakes are fine, cakes are feasible, and most other things he’s still kind of working on (he won’t be able to do meringues or macarons any time soon.) Things with gelatin, where the excess water can be put to good use, are also pretty good. He does have to assure you it is clean, he swears, he’s not running a restaurant but there is a clean bill of health in Chef Waterboy's Bakery.
• Baking with him, then, isn’t that stressful an experience, even if there is slightly more to clean up.
• And hey, once he gets a job at SDN, here comes a perfect opportunity to test out his skills! SDN may be a superhero company, but it’s still a company, and it usually holds parties and potlucks every other month, which is a perfect opportunity for you both to bring something in — no one says it out loud, but there’s definitely a secret leaderboard for Whose Snacks Slap The Hardest.
• So he wants to try to bring something. Why not, right?
• Whether you know anything about baking or not, he’d be very grateful for your presence, even if it’s just as a taste tester!
• Because you insist on helping him, though…

‘You want to do what?’ you ask, eyes wide as Herm gestures lamely to the counter, piled high with all different kinds of ingredients sorted into double-plastic-wrapped bags.

‘I — well, I thought, desserts are pretty — pretty good, popular, so, cupcakes would be popular. I thought. Still am planning on making them. B-but I ran out of time, and so.’

‘Herm, the potluck is tomorrow morning. There’s a hundred people coming, at least. How are you going to — I don’t even think that’s possible, is it?’

‘I know,’ he replies miserably. ‘But can — if you still want, c-could you — help, please? If you stay I can make you eggs tomorrow, or. Something. Doesn’t have to be eggs. I don’t know if there’ll still be eggs.’

Weak as you are, you just can’t say no to the wet-eyed pleading. Or to free breakfast.

• The battle station (the kitchen) is quickly prepped (with bowls galore and the ingredients set out in neat rows that won't stay neat for long) and manned by the two of you in full armor (nice floral aprons that have been dying to be worn as a set for ages; Waterboy’s grandmother takes a billion pictures and his face shows up progressively redder in each one of them.)
• You get right to it, dividing the work evenly between the two of you. He can handle the wet ingredients and you the dry ones — or the other way around, if you’d like to make it a challenge.
• Both of you also do cleanup as you go so you don’t end up with a bunch of dishes afterwards; Waterboy swears he doesn’t mind, really, but with the amount of cupcakes you’re making he is actually quite relieved when things are baking and there’s a minimal amount of things to wash and dry.
• The both of you are guilty of licking the excess batter off of the bowls. You’re too tired to care about salmonella at the minute.
• The oven is a dedicated soldier. In the time you wait for each pan to bake, the two of you have time to pet all the cats, water all the plants, jam to some black metal, pet all the cats again and watch surprisingly compelling episodes of a soap opera his grandmother recorded (no, you’re not crying, you’ve managed to absorb his powers somehow. Pass the tissues, please.)
• And you both decorate, because decorating is fun, darn it! With all possible kinds of sprinkles and toppings at your disposal, you make each cupcake something memorable. On Waterboy’s end, he might top the cupcakes with blue or yellow frosting (his signature colors) and place little edible pearls on top to be fancy.
• (There are, of course, a few ones you can’t resist eating yourselves… seeing you lick away a smear of blue frosting from your mouth nearly makes him drop a pan entirely.)
• When each of the pans has cooled, been decorated, and neatly packed into Tupperware boxes, exhausted, you collapse on the couch together and sleep so hard it feels like you blink and your alarm is screaming at you to Load The Cupcakes And Go, You’ll Be Late To Work. You are generously compensated with breakfast but stuff it in your mouth, anime-character style, as you hightail it to the SDN office.
• The cupcakes are a hit! Unfortunately, you don’t win the secret popularity contest — that honor goes to someone who disguised Granny’s donuts as their own food. But the Z-Team, at least, love them, and get second and third helpings, which does make him feel quite happy.
• They ask him if he can bring cupcakes around tomorrow. For the sake of his mental health, you step in to decline for him.
• He'd make them again for you, though. If you asked. Please do.