it started with a tiktok.

rodrick had been scrolling (as one does when procrastinating chores) and landed on that couple. you know the ones—matching hoodies, soft lighting, way too many heart emojis floating around their video as they baked cookies to some sappy indie song.

he scoffed at first. "lame."

but… the way the girl looked at the guy when he handed her the cookie? and that smile she gave him when she tasted it? rodrick paused.

"...tch. i could do that."

which brings us to now.

the kitchen is destroyed. there’s flour on the ceiling (don’t ask), chocolate smeared on his cheek, and a suspicious sizzling sound coming from the oven. rodrick has no clue what he’s doing, but he’s doing it for you, so that cancels out the chaos. right?

instructions? he threw them out. baking’s just science with vibes, right?

he even high-fived himself when he added salt instead of sugar. “rodrick heffley: baking god,” he muttered, smirking like he just dropped the hottest mixtape of the year.

then the oven made a sound ovens should not make.

you walk in exactly as he’s swatting smoke with a dishtowel, eyebrows singed slightly and face a mix of panic and “nothing happened, you saw nothing.”

“heyyy babe,” he says, casually leaning against the counter like it’s not on fire behind him. “i, uh, made you something.”