𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙥𝙞𝙚

written by sardonic-the-writer on tumblr

SUMMARY | when quackity fails to make you a cake for valentines day, he's left with a mess in his hands, and your teasing

PAIRING | cc!quackity x reader

WORD COUNT | 1k+

WARNINGS | just sweet fluff! (pun intended)

AUTHORS NOTE | a valentines day gift for one of my friends hehe. hope you enjoyed!!!

"Dude, I love you. I do. But if I have to sit here another twenty minutes and watch you fail to make a cake, I think I might go insane."

If there was one thing you had learned today, is that Quackity really was shit at baking.

You had been sitting patiently at a wooden table for some time now, a small smile tilting the corner of your lips up as you watched him rush around the kitchen.

Your comment was met with a groan from your flour-stained boyfriend. He simply sent you a glare from behind the makeshift piping bag he had crafted out of a zipblock bag, just getting a smile from you in response.

Quackity had always been mediocre at best when it came to baking—on stream or off. His efforts usually didn't turn out too bad, but they were no gourmet meal either. Put the man under pressure, though? Now that's the real recipe for disaster right there. You should know that thought. After all, you've been sitting at his kitchen table for about an hour now watching him eyeball measurements and undercook a cake so much it just looked like soup.

"Shut up you asshole." Quackitys attempt to bite back a remark at you fell short as a round of giggly laughter peirced through his words. "You can either eat the cake I'be so lovingly made for you, or I can have it alll to myself, pendejo."

"Hey, no offense to your baking skills, but I'd rather eat my own foot than try some of that expired looking frosting you're using there."

"It's—it's not fucking expired!" He threw his hands up with another wild smile just to go and rest them on his hips. With the pink apron he was wearing, he reminded you of an exasperated middle adged mom at the grill for just a moment.

"Oh yeah?" You tilted your head right back at him, barely biting back an amused smile. "What's the date on that milk you used to make it then?"

He rolled his eyes at you, waving his hand in the air dismisivly.

"Who needs to know a stupid expiration date. It's not like it could have been that bad anywa—oh shit."

One peak on the lable at the gallon of milk had him sprinting to the trashcan, practically throwing the cake he had slaved over into it.

"A month!? How can a gallon of milk just sit in our fridge for a month!? And stop—stop laughing at me! Asshole, you knew, didn't you!!"

You could barely shake your head no in response to him as you doubled over with laughter in your chair. You nearly lost it again when you went to gasp for air after seeing the pouty expression overtaking your partners face.

"Sorry for laughing Q." You said, sounding not very sorry at all. 6 just funy when you get flustered."

"Yeah well, so much for that valentines day suprise I was promising you." Quackitys arms crossed themselves over his apron clad chest gumpily as he made his way over to sit next to you, earning a pat on the shoulder from you.

"Hey. Dont worry about it. What's that thing old people say? That its the thought that counts?"

"Not helping."

"Sorry! Sorry." You snickered at the stinkeye he gave you. "Point is, I know you love me. But watching you run around our kitchen trying to make me what I assume was a cake just showed how much you really do."

Quackity scratched the back of his neck sheepishly when you were done speaking. You took the red tint on his cheeks as leftover embarassment from the little frosting fiasco, not noticing how the color had only surfaced when you started to rub your hand up and dwn the length of his back in small circles.

"So, youre not upset about the cake?"

"Nope." You popped the p at the end, making Quackity chuckle.

"Even if chat wasnt there to ruin it this time?"

"Definitely not."

"Oh thank god, becuase I've been wanting to order Chipotle all day."

Quackity laughed when you punched him in the arm, smiling as you let out a fake gasp of offense.

"How dare you Quackity. To think you were doing something nice for me, when all you wanted was a taco."

"Fuck off." He groaned with a smile before falling back into silence.

A beat of silence.

"But can we order Chipotle?"

"Yeah. I'll get the phone."

"Yesss."