CHECK, PLEASE! Short Stories

emergency pie committee

Title: emergency pie committee

Summary: 

By his sophomore year, Eric R. Bittle has already earned himself a reputation as the teams "Mister Mom", and he's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. 

Warnings: NONE!!

Published: 5/3/17

Words: 1118

A/N: Hey-o! I didn't really base this on anything in particular, just an idea I had. I haven't ever really posted the stories I so this is a first for me.

Anyways it's just a cute little story about the teams relationship and how they view Bitty, and obviously, something they call the 'Emergency Pie Committee', which, not to toot my own horn, is a pretty adorable idea.

also follow me on tumblr: @isleofflightlessgays

and here we go: 

emergency pie committee

"Mister Mom!" Bitty heard Chowders voice echo up the stairwell. He sighed, closed his computer, and opened his door.

Chowder stood in front of the door, hand curled into a fist ready to knock.

"So is that my new nickname?" He leaned against his doorframe, crossing his arms nonchalantly.

"Only when we're using it for a mom-ly reason."

"Alright-y, so what motherly duties are you entrusting me with today?"

"One of the other frogs forgot today was his girlfriend's birthday and he needs to get her something... so he figured he could get you to back her a pie or something."

"Not too bad." He started going over a mental list of everything they had in the fridge...eggs, butter, milk, freshly canned peach preserves, and he was pretty sure he stocked up on flour last time he went to the store.

"When does he need it done."

"30 minutes."

"Frick! Let me get my baking shirt on." He ruffled chowders hair. "Go ahead and get out all my pans and stuff." He closed the door, and pulled off his sweater, grabbing his baking shirt from its special place on his desk. The over-sized white shirt with some company's logo in the corner had acquired various stains over the years. Any stand, from tomato soup to chocolate cake batter could be found on this shirt. Strawberries, egg whites, canned pie filling (that was years old, from the days when he still used canned fruits in his deserts. He physically shuddered every time he saw the stain).

He ran down the stairs and stopped in the kitchens doorway, immediately gaining the attention of every team member present. "Okay guys, we need an emergency pie in- " he glanced at the freshman whose name he could genuinely not remember. He felt bad about that, even though it was only the beginning of the fall semester.

"24 minutes."

"What type of pie does your girlfriend like?"

"No idea."

"How long have you two been together?"

"Two years." He admitted, staring at his feet.

"That's alright. We'll make my peach pie then... That one never fails."

He stood in front of a group of seven manly jocks, all at least a foot taller than him, and most nearly double his body weight. "I'm going to call out directions and I name, and whoever I call out, will do them, alright-y?" Everyone got prepared, and Bitty took a moment to register everyone that showed up.

"Ransom, preheat Betsy to 375... no she can handle 400, I believe in her... DO 400!" He watched Ransom make a mad sprint to the oven.

"Dex, Shitty, Holster, 2 eggs, ¼ a cup of milk, ½ a stick of butter, 2 cups of flour. Mix them together until they resemble a dough." Bitty was proud of his memorization skills, if he had to be honest. It's one thing making food without the recipe, it's another thing calling out the recipe to college-aged ADHD hockey players.

"Jack, melt the other half of butter, and get out the can of peach preserves, then stand by the bowl" he pointed to the large glass bowl sitting on the kitchen table. "Everyone else grab the pie pan and also stand by the table." Bitty went to the table, and waited for everyone who was told to go there.

"Okay guys, when jack gives you the butter, take a little, A LITTLE BECAUSE I'LL STILL NEED THE BUTTER AFTERWARDS" He made sure his point got across. "And take this brush. It's called a- "He stopped himself from going on. There's no time to overtalk when it comes to a baking emergency. "Anyways, spread it on the pan. It's like an alternative to baking spray."

Jack set the butter on the table, and handed Battle the jar of peaches. "I couldn't open them." He took the jar and opened it like it was a cool beer on a hot Georgia night- that is to say, easily.

"Looks like you've got the magic touch."

"Or years of cooking experience." He laughed, pouring the preserves into the bowl.

"WE"RE DONE WITH THE DOUGH!"

"Pour the melted butter into the preserves and mix them., darling." Oh no. All his years of baking with his cousins led to this? His cheeks went red and his already big brown eyes widened.

"No problem, Mister Mom." Jack smirked, and he felt his knees go weak. Somehow he managed to get to the dough boys without passing out.

"Perfect, now put it on the counter. NO PUT FLOUR DOWN FIRst I thought everyone new that. Okay, thank you, now roll out tow circles like pie crusts. No, you can't eat it, do you want to die of salmonella."

He glanced around the kitchen. Everyone excluding ransom and the guys who buttered the pan were busy.

"Bits, taste the peaches."

He grabbed a spoon, and took a little bit. "Add a tablespoon of sugar and its perfect."

"DONE!" Everyone parted ways, like the red sea, waiting for their pie god to bestow his judgment upon their crusts.

"Perfect" A sense of relief flooded the room. "We do not have time to prebake the crust, but I cannot, will not, serve a soggy pie... Does anyone here have a blowtorch?"

"Bits, this is the Haus, of course we have a blowtorch." Shitty and his health-code-violating mustache stepped forward.

"Well, go get it!" He ran out of the room and returned less than a minute later with a blowtorch in hand.

"Shits, just till its golden brown!"

He gave Battle the 'okay' sign, which did not reassure him.

Bitty turned around and covered his eyes. "I can't watch this."

Thirty seconds later, it was all over. "Is this good enoguh for you, Bittle?"

His jaw dropped. No oven, not even Betsy could prebake a crust as well as shitty and a blowtorch just did.

"Jack, the filling!" Jack stepped forward, bowl in hand. "Okay slowly at first, don't rush it or it'll go everywhere." He cautiously poured it, taking care not to spill it. After the crust was filled, he gently placed the top crust over it. Then he pinched the sides, grabbed a knife, and put an x in the middle of the crust.

"Alright, so it should be done in about 25 minutes. Everyone pitch a hand in cleaning whilst we wait, okay?" Everyone grumbled, but with so many people helping it went by pretty quickly.

25 minutes later, they pulled the pie out of the oven and waited for it to cool off.

"Dude when's your girlfriend gonna be here."

"Um, about that. She just texted me saying she was stuck in traffic. She's not gonna be here for another 30 minutes"