Work Text:
The little devil wanted sweets.
Because of course she did. That was just what she needed.
However, she did not want just any sweets.
Chaghan had learned that the hard way. When he had attempted to offer her a candy bar, she had turned her nose up to it and declared she had “standards”.
And what she desired with that black heart of hers instead?
Cupcakes.
Fucking homemade cupcakes.
Chaghan Suren had never been more irritated in his life.
It wasn’t that he hated baking. He was pretty decent at it.
The problem was that he was not doing this for a relative of his. He wasn’t doing this at his own house.
No.
He was at Altan Trengsin’s house, in his kitchen, laying out the ingredients for cupcakes, and the other man’s little cousin was seated at the kitchen island watching him with large brown eyes. He had even spent an hour searching for ingredients at the store just for this.
And yet, as annoyed as he was, Chaghan couldn’t bring himself to stop.
That was the worst part.
Chaghan wiped at his forehead and sighed as he triple checked that he had everything. A nervous energy kept him restless, shifting back and forth on his feet. He had yet to figure out why.
He could do this.
This was easy—he had made enough to be confident in his process.
Chaghan cracked his fingers and got to work.
He had put the little brat to work already, so he didn’t have to worry about lining the tin. He’d had enough foresight to preheat the oven while grocery shopping too, so that was off the list.
Not a terrible start.
Chaghan wiped his hands on his thighs, gathering up the dry ingredients. If he looked up, he knew he would see Rin and Altan in the living room, cartoons on the TV, playing with toys on the floor.
He bit the inside of his cheek thoughtlessly and piled the wet ingredients inside the bowl of the stand mixer.
Laughter.
Chaghan barely suppressed the urge to look up.
His grip tightened on the bowl of the dry ingredients. He sucked in a breath as he mixed the wet and dry, gaze never moving from the bowl. Overmixing it would mean disaster.
He was not keen on facing the wrath of a child today.
Chaghan stopped the mixer and grabbed the tin. It didn’t take him long to evenly distribute the batter.
It was orderly.
It was logical.
It was… calming.
Chaghan took a deep breath and let his shoulders drop as he slid the tin in the oven.
“Buttercream time,” he muttered to himself, snapping his fingers.
He opened the sticks of butter carefully and pressed his tongue against his inner cheek absently. It wasn't long before the mixer was whirling away again as he added the rest.
When it was done, he removed the bowl from the stand and set it down.
He dipped a spoon in.
And tasted.
A few moments passed.
“Mm,” he hummed and washed his spoon so he could take another.
“ARE THEY DONE YET???”
Chaghan jumped, gaze snapping up.
It was just in time for a tiny blur of motion to launch herself at his legs.
He was not prepared for it.
THUD.
Chaghan grunted as the spoon slipped from his fingers, spoon skittering over the wood flooring.
“Oh,” Rin chirped, untangling herself from his legs, “you fell. Oops.”
She didn’t even sound sorry.
Chaghan gritted his teeth.
He was an adult. He was not as uncivilized as a toddler—he had enough self control to ignore her.
Warm hands closed around his arms.
“She’s been quite fond of rather… intense greetings lately,” a voice chuckled from above.
Chaghan tensed.
He hated the way his heart sped up a fraction.
“That’s more than a little apparent,” he bit out as he was heaved to his feet, “but thanks for stating the obvious. I guess someone has to enlighten the masses.”
His eyes locked with those vibrant crimson ones.
And suddenly he lost all ability to think, let alone look away.
There was a smile on Altan’s lips. Not big. Just small, not even enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.
“Is that so?” The taller man drawled as he arched a brow.
Chaghan crossed his arms. “Do you think I’d waste the time saying it if it weren’t true? I thought you knew me better, Trengsin. Disappointing.”
There was something in Altan’s gaze—maybe it was that it wasn’t fixed on his eyes, but another part of his face. Whatever it was, it made him uncomfortable.
Just as he was about to demand an answer, the man spoke.
“You have buttercream on your cheek.”
Chaghan froze.
“…what?”
Altan looked at him again, a glint in those crimson pools. “I’m simply doing my job of enlightening the masses. Just like you said, someone needs to.”
Chaghan’s face burned.
He curled his hands into fists.
“YOU NEVER ANSWERED MY QUESTION!” Rin shrieked out of nowhere, sinking her stubby fingers into his pant leg and violently shaking the appendage.
He stumbled.
Altan’s hands were on him again before he had even processed what had happened.
The smile was gone and his brow was slightly furrowed. He looked… concerned.
Chaghan scowled and nodded before slowly pulling away.
Then he faced the rat-faced menace.
“If you would give me a minute, I was about to go check,” he scoffed and turned towards the counter.
He clicked his phone screen.
And stared.
There was no timer.
Fuck.
Chaghan rounded on the oven and ran.
Altan was just turning towards him to offer the spoon.
He ripped open the appliance, snatched the mitts, and yanked the contents out.
He didn’t even bother to close it.
He set the tin down.
And mourned in silence.
A few moments passed.
“Chaghan?” Altan called warily.
He didn’t respond. His eyes never left the baked goods.
Footsteps padded closer.
“What’s wrong? They look amazing,” Altan asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Chaghan whined quietly.
Rin waddled over and nodded vigorously. “They smell delicious too.”
Chaghan shook his head and tossed the mitts off. He kicked the oven closed with his foot.
“The edges are burnt,” he hissed at last.
He could feel them staring at him. His skin prickled and he wrapped his arms around himself.
“Annnndddd?” Rin prompted at last with a displeased noise. She jumped up and down, attempting to snatch a glimpse of the ruined cupcakes.
“They are burnt,” he repeated with slightly more force.
Altan shifted his front foot forward and leaned onto it, poking at one of the disasters with a finger. He ripped off a tiny piece, plopping it in his mouth.
Chaghan watched him with narrowed eyes.
“They’re amazing,” Altan chuckled, a large smile breaking out over his face. The corners of his eyes even crinkled. “What’s wrong with them? We can just cut the burnt parts off.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Are you both clinically insane? They are BURNT. That means they are probably dry, overbaked, horrible—“
Altan was already turning away, taking the tin with him as Rin followed, jumping up at them at his heels.
He didn’t even know what to say.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Chaghan shouted when his brain finally started working again.
The man calmly loaded one of the piping bags he had bought earlier with the buttercream. Rin scampered up one of the chairs at the island, shoving her plate forward while tapping it against the surface incessantly.
Only when he had finished prepping the bag did Altan finally deign to respond to him.
“Decorating,” was all he said. There was a pause as he cocked his head to the side before continuing. “Care to join us?”
“Yeah!” Rin added on.
Chaghan’s mouth moved rapidly, but no words came out.
They both kept looking at him.
Altan even had the audacity to smirk like a cat that had just caught a mouse.
His shoulders dropped.
And Chaghan shuffled over wordlessly.
Rin shrieked and clapped far louder than was necessary.
“…you did the pipe wrong.”
Altan blinked.
He glanced down.
“What’s the right way then?”
Rin leaned over, opening her eyes wide to peer at the piping bag.
Chaghan scoffed and yanked it out of his hands. He didn’t bother to admit he had lied. He simply adjusted the nozzle so it sat straight—which, in his defense, was the proper way!—and went to work.
After all, he didn’t trust either of those imbeciles to decorate his cupcakes, even if they were worthless disasters.
He could feel the question burning in Altan’s gaze.
Chaghan smirked.
“…you lied. Just to get the bag.”
Rin whistled loudly.
He simply shrugged in response.
“Someone has to make these presentable,” Chaghan hummed mockingly, turning to poke Altan’s nose, “and a brute like you wouldn’t know a thing about that. Maybe one day you’ll go through the lesson enough times for it to stick in that head of yours.”
Altan clenched his jaw.
Narrowed his eyes.
Chaghan lifted his chin and tilted his head to the side, brow rising.
This isn’t over, the taller man mouthed and kicked him lightly under the overhang of the island.
“What about ME?” Rin demanded, slamming her tiny palms on the counter. “I want to help! They are my cupcakes anyway!”
Chaghan pressed his lips together and shifted them to the side.
“I trust you with the sprinkles.”
“YES!” Rin screamed at the top of her tiny lungs.
He winced and smiled despite himself.
He had to shake his own head to refocus so he could finish frosting the cupcake. All the while, Altan silently rested a hand on his back.
He didn’t bother to protest.
Only placed the slightly prettier disaster on the petite demon’s plate.
And watched her drown it in fire colored sprinkles like a madman.
“She’s not even going to taste the cupcake part of it,” he groused low enough so she wouldn’t hear.
Altan leaned down with a low hum. “At least she’s happy.”
Based on how Rin was wriggling in her seat as she swung the mess of sugar around before plunging it into her mouth full speed, he found he agreed.
She gasped in delight, kicking her feet.
And then feigned passing out.
Chaghan laughed, bright and unfiltered.
He leaned his head against Altan.
“Yeah. Yeah she is,” he whispered.
Altan bumped his hip against his and asked with total innocence, “Still think they are ruined?”
He hesitated.
And responded.
“Maybe you were right.” He glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Just this once. Take the victory where you can get it.”
Altan burst into soft laughter and took a cupcake of his own.
He took a bite without looking away.
A beat.
Chaghan’s eyes narrowed into slits.
There was frosting on his face.
Chaghan reached up and swiped it away. He didn’t bother to do the same for Rin—she was too far gone, already grabbing seconds.
Baking here wasn’t too bad, if he was being honest.
He’d consider doing it again.
For himself, of course.