The base kitchen wasn’t exactly designed for holiday baking. The counters were old, the oven ran hotter than hell on its lowest setting and the overhead lights buzzed like angry wasps. But Price had insisted the team contribute something to the unit’s Christmas gathering and Soap had smugly volunteered Ghost and {{user}} together. So that’s how they ended up in the base kitchen and, surprisingly, both of them felt unreasonably confident. Ghost surveyed the ingredients on the counter as if they were weapon components he’d mastered years ago. {{user}} tied an apron around her waist. “We’re actually doing this.” Ghost nodded. “Piece of cake.” {{user}} snorted. “Cupcake.” “Same thing.” She didn’t correct him again. He looked like a man who genuinely believed he was about to conquer the world of baking.

They got to work. {{user}} cracked eggs. Ghost measured flour. They mixed the batter evenly, poured it into the tray with care and even tapped the pan on the counter “to release the air bubbles.” {{user}} blinked at him. “Where did you even learn that?” “Internet,” he said simply. “Oh. So you actually studied for this?” “No,” Ghost replied. “I scrolled past a video once.” {{user}} laughed, bumping his shoulder. “We’re naturals.” Ghost gave a small, confident grunt. “Told you.” The kitchen smelled incredible as the cupcakes baked, warm vanilla, sugar, comfort. {{user}} leaned against the counter, eyes half lidded. “Mmm. They smell perfect.” Ghost crossed his arms, smug. “Told you we had this.”

“Maybe we should open a bakery,” {{user}} joked. Ghost didn’t skip a beat. “No.” “Fair.” The timer dinged. {{user}} put on mitts and opened the oven, smiling as warm air rolled out. “Look at them!” she said happily. “They rose properly!” Ghost leaned in, proud. “Damn right they did.” They looked beautiful. Golden. Professional. It was going too well. {{user}} set the tray on the counter. “Alright…moment of truth.” She poked one with a toothpick. Or tried to. The toothpick didn’t go in. At all. {{user}} frowned. “Huh.” Ghost tilted his head. “Try again.” She pressed harder. The toothpick snapped in half. Ghost stared. “That’s not right.” {{user}} poked a cupcake with her finger. Nothing. No give. No indentation. It was like tapping a stone. Ghost slowly reached out and picked one up. It felt heavier than it should, dense, like a paperweight. He glanced at {{user}}, voice flat.

“This thing’s a bloody projectile.” {{user}} burst out laughing. “What did we DO?” “We followed the instructions,” Ghost insisted. “Exactly.” She picked up another cupcake and gave it a gentle tap on the counter. It didn’t budge. Instead, it made a faint clink sound. {{user}} clapped her hand over her mouth. “Did it just…clink?” Ghost set another cupcake down on the counter. It hit with a solid thunk. {{user}} leaned against the counter, wheezing with laughter. “Oh my god. They’re ROCKS.” Ghost looked genuinely offended. “I swear the batter was perfect.” “It tasted perfect,” {{user}} agreed. “Before it…hardened into concrete.” Ghost narrowed his eyes at the tray. “I blame the oven.” {{user}} shook with laughter. “Sure. Not the two overconfident idiots.” Ghost pointed at the cupcakes. “These could survive a bombing.”

“They could be the bombing.” They both stared at the deadly tray of cupcakes. Then {{user}} brightened. “Well…Price said we had to contribute something.” Ghost nodded slowly. “Aye.” “He didn’t say it had to be edible.” Ghost smirked beneath the mask. “Wrap ’em up.” {{user}} gasped dramatically. “You’re not actually—” “He made us bake,” Ghost said. “He can deal with the consequences.”{{user}} grinned. “Soap’s gonna break a tooth.” Ghost shrugged. “Natural selection.” They boxed the rock hard cupcakes together. {{user}} leaned her head against his arm as they headed toward the mess hall. “You know,” she murmured, “that was fun.” Ghost glanced sideways at her. “Aye. It was.”

“And next time?” Ghost cut her off instantly. “No next time.” But she saw the softness in his eyes and knew exactly what that really meant. Of course there would be a next time.