You reached out to pull an empty pudding cup laying on the carpet. You tossed it into the trash and made a final check to confirm that it was the last object under your bed. There was a lone pink Snoball tucked away in the corner. Ah ha, that was where you had hidden the tasty treat!

You placed it in the 'keep pile' along with a dozen pencils, a ruler, bobby pins, and a startling number of firecrackers leftover from Independence Day. The small cake would make an excellent post dinner dessert. The quicker you ate it; the less chance Peter would find and eat it himself.

"Hey, babe, can you wrap this for me?" You jumped at the voice and saw the man himself sitting on your bed holding up a stack of VHS tapes. He saw the Snoball and before you could even express your displeasure, he ate it in one bite. "Hmm, I haven't had one of those in a while. I should get more sometime."

"Peter!" You swatted his knee with a rolled-up magazine.

"What did I do?" He moved out of range to avoid being hit again.

You said through gritted teeth, "I was going to eat that later." You should've known better than to save it. Hostess snacks were never hidden from your boyfriend for long. He offered to steal another one from a nearby convenience store, but you turned him down. You'd retaliate next time he was out and take a whole box of cupcakes from his room. "What do you want? I'm in the middle of cleaning."

"I need help wrapping these gifts." He patted the tapes. "I tried nine times but they come out really sloppy and I keep ripping the paper."

You shrugged. "Sure. Go get the wrapping paper, tape, and scissors. Oh, and ribbon too." Peter retrieved them in a trice. He watched in fascination as you meticulously wrapped the presents and curled the ribbon. "Who are these for?"

"Jean, for her birthday tomorrow," he replied. "She told me once that she hasn't seen any of the Godzilla movies, so I got her Godzilla: King of Monsters, Godzilla Raids Again, King Kong vs. Godzilla, and Godzilla vs. Mothra! Mothra was kinda hard to find. I had to go to three different–."

It took a bit for his words to register. You interrupted in a panicked shriek, "Jean's birthday's tomorrow!" You leapt off the floor and dashed to Scott's room, hoping his girlfriend was not with him. 

Perhaps Peter was wrong. His perception of time was skewed and often he mixed up dates. The prior year, he had thought Thanksgiving fell on a Tuesday. You knocked on Scott's door. He opened it, a toothbrush was hanging from his mouth.

"Is Jean's birthday tomorrow?"

"Uh, yesh," he responded through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Dammit! I thought it was next week!" Scott went to his bathroom to finish brushing, and you slumped against the wall. What could you get your friend at such short notice? You could run down to the mall to buy an outfit for her, or give some cold, hard cash. That was unimaginative though. You could resort to free coupons for chores and favors. That seemed cheap and lazy. "What am I gonna get her?"

Scott came back, saying, "Didn't I tell you? She wants you to bake her a cake."

You whipped your head around. "No! You failed to mention that!"

"Sorry, that's what Jean told me. She's always going on about that strawberry cake you made for Hank's birthday. She wants you to make another one like that."

"Okay. I can do that." The wave of anxiety passed, replaced with nervousness that came whenever you baked for a special occasion. "I'll bake it today and frost it tomorrow morning."

"Will you need a taste tester to make sure it's up to scratch?" Peter asked, appearing by Scott.

"No, remember how many strudels you ate when you said you were only having a nibble." You went to your bedroom to put on your shoes. "But you can accompany me to the store if you want."

"First of all, it was only sixteen strudels. I was retraining myself. Second, just give me a list and I'll get everything for you. The sooner you make that cake the better." He licked his lips in anticipation.

You grabbed your wallet and stuffed it into your pocket. "Last time I sent you on an errand on your own, you came back with ninety-six chocolate muffins and twelve liters of Dr Pepper, not to mention that random beta fish."

"He looked so lonely in that little cup! What did you expect me to do? Besides, why have carrots and bread when there's bakery fresh chocolate muffins!"

"You're proving my point. Now do I have to drive to the store or are you gonna take me over there?" In response to the question, he sped you to the local Walmart. "Eh, thanks." You wandered among the produce section, pushing a shopping cart Peter provided. 

"Let's see, we need strawberries of course." You picked up a container of them. "Do these look fresh?" You looked to your right to see he was no longer there. Great, how were you going to return home?

That would be a problem for later, now your attention was needed at the task at hand. You needed strawberries, sour cream, and granulated sugar for the actual cake. For the frosting, you needed unsalted butter, cream cheese, and vanilla extract. 

The rest of the ingredients were at the mansion. You maneuvered through the aisles, searching for the sugar, then spotted the cookies and chips in the buggy. "Peter!"

He zoomed next to you. "They're part of a healthy diet!"

"Put them back!" You shouted, "And no stealing! You know what Xavier said!" An elderly woman glared at you. Offering her a strained smile, you moved on to the dairy section. The sour cream, unsalted butter, and cream cheese were taken from the shelves and set inside the cart. Peter reappeared, carrying three boxes of Lego sets. He gave you puppy dog eyes.

"C'mon, look how cool they are. This one's called the Space Supply Station, this one's called Beta-1 Command Base, and this is a King Castle set!" As he named each one, he built them in milliseconds. He grinned, proud of completing them so fast. He ran off and came back in a blink of an eye.

"They're on your dresser, aren't they?"

"Yep!"

You sighed, admitting defeat when it came to Peter giving up his kleptomania. He took your hand and made an effort to stay by your side for the remainder of the trip. All that was left was the vanilla extract. You got the small bottle and walked to the check out. A line was at every cashier. Peter coaxed, "We could skip this, ya know."

You shook your head and booped his nose. He tapped his foot repeatedly, creating an impression on the tile. He put the items on the conveyor belt while you handed your credit card to the employee. Unbeknownst to you, Peter left for the transaction.

"Ready?" You asked, collecting the bags.

You heard the cashier gasp, "Oh my gosh!" She pointed behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and were flabbergasted at a ten-foot-tall statue of the Eiffel Tower composed of toilet paper.

You exclaimed, "Peter!"

He zipped behind you, holding your neck and waist. "Okay, we should probably go now." In a blur of colors, you arrived at the mansion.

You stared at him, dumbfounded at his lunacy. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

He kissed the top of your head. "Technically, I took you there, and you behaved well enough for the both of us." He used his powers to get the other ingredients for the cake and put on matching aprons embroidered with Kiss the Cook all in mere moments. "What's the first step, boss?"

"Well, we have to puree the strawberries." You rinsed and hulled the strawberries before pureeing them in a blender. The fruit had to simmer on the stove for twenty minutes and would have to cool for longer, which caused Peter to complain. 

"Don't worry, while that's heating, we can still make the cake. I need you to get two round cake pans, line them with parchment paper, and grease them." You turned your back to preheat the oven.

"Like this?" Peter held out the two pans with the greased parchment paper.

"Yeah, good job." He smiled at your compliment. You always forgot how handy it was to have Peter in the kitchen, that was if he paid attention to what he was doing and not get distracted. 

The flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt were all whisked together. An electric mixer was not needed as Peter wanted to stir and could do it quite fast.

You did remind him not to do it at full power lest the contents of the bowl went flying. Next, he mixed the butter and sugar until they were smooth. The egg whites, sour cream, vanilla extract, and sugar were added. 

You said, "Go slower." He gave a 'have you lost your mind look', and you explained, "I'll pour the milk but you have to go slower because we don't want to over mix it."

"Gotcha, we don't want to mix the stuff we're mixing together," he quipped.

Ignoring him, you let out a long sigh. "Get the puree." You took over the whisking from here to ensure it was the proper consistency, and scraped the batter into the pans with a spatula. The timer was set for twenty-five minutes. 

You and Peter tidied up the kitchen in the meantime and ate some pizza afterwards. The timer beeped, signaling the cake was done. You pulled the pans out of the oven and inserted a toothpick in them which came out clean.

"Hmm, that smells good." He came closer, the hunger plain in his eyes.

"Don't get any funny ideas." You shook your index finger at him.

"Aw, c'mon. It's not for my sake." You raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "It's for Jean, we don't want to give her a bad tasting cake."

"Don't insult my cake, Peter! If any part of you thought it was bad then you wouldn't volunteer. I'll let you have the excess I cut off when I frost it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, for now let's play Ms Pac-Man. We deserve to." You dragged him to his bedroom to enjoy what was left of the evening in sweet solitude.

♡ ♡ ♡

It was four o'clock in the morning. Scared of being caught, you made your way to the kitchen without the use of a flashlight. You paid the price of stubbed toes, bumping into unexpected corners until you reached it. 

You fumbled to find the light switch and at last flicked it in the on position. You gasped at what you found. Peter was sitting on the counter with a grim expression holding a bag of confectioners' sugar.

"What are you doing up this early?" You crossed your arms in front of your chest, sensing the tension in the air.

"I never went to sleep." He tossed the bag which you caught. "I knew you were lying to me! I'll make it tomorrow," he repeated in a bad imitation of your voice. "You wanted to make it without me! Ugh, you sit on a throne of lies!"

Well now he was being dramatic. As you explained your defense, you brought out the freeze-dried strawberries, cream cheese, milk, and vanilla. "I wasn't lying, for yesterday, today would be tomorrow. I never specified exactly when I'd make it though."

Peter wasn't listening. "You have a royal court that lies too! And a jester that lies while he's dancing, and for food you drink peacock soup that whispers lies in your ear for you to say! All in a great, big lying kingdom!"

You can't help the grin spreading across your face. "Peacock soup?"

"You know what I mean!"

"No, actually I don't." You walked over to Peter who was sulking at the table after his outburst. You rubbed his shoulders and said in a soothing voice, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but I do have a reason not to tell you. Remember that red velvet cake Jubilee and I made? And what she did when you ate all the frosting?" Your grip on his shoulders tightened.

Peter winced at the memory. Dodging Jubilee's constant firework attacks was an exercise he was not eager to go through again. "I just... Ijustreallylikebakingwithyouandit'soneofmyfavoritethingstodowithyouandIwantedtohelpwiththefrosting."

You sat next to him. "Excuse me?"

Peter took a deep breath. "I like baking with you, it's fun." Your heart melted at the adoring look he gave you.

You extended your hand and helped him up. "Fine, we'll make it together but–" You jabbed him in the chest to emphasize your point. "–if you eat so much as a teaspoon of it, you're banned from baking. Capeesh?"

"Capeesh! So, whadda we do?" He shouted. You shushed him to lower his voice to avoid waking the sleeping inhabitants of the school. It would be futile, however, because noise was inevitable as the food processor was necessary for the task. 

The freeze-dried strawberries were blended into powdery crumbs. The cream cheese and butter were beaten, confectioners' sugar, strawberry crumbs, milk and vanilla were added. The result was a beautiful pink-colored frosting.

You retrieved a knife and sliced the tops of the cakes to even them out. A dollop of frosting was spread on the bottom cake and you placed the second cake on the first one. You covered them in strawberry frosting and decorated and piped rosettes along the edge for decorations. Finished, you stood back to admire your handiwork. It was the best cake you had made yet.

"Looks delicious." Peter wrapped an arm around you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"It does, doesn't it?" You agreed, leaning against him. The sun was rising in the East, and you swayed a little on your feet from the tiredness overcoming your body. You reached a spoon into the bowl, swiping what was left of the frosting and held it out to Peter. "Here, you earned it."

His eyes lit up as he licked it off. "Mmm, I can't wait till Jean cuts it."

"You can and will. It's her birthday, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, but for my birthday I want ten of these."

You blanched at the prospect of having to bake that number of cakes, nevertheless you replied, "I'll see what I can do."

♡ ♡ ♡

Much to Peter's annoyance, the cake cutting happened in the late evening. Streamers and balloons hung from the ceiling of the parlor room and presents adorned the table with the birthday cake as the crowning jewel in the center of the table. Jean at the head with her friends surrounding her.

Eyeing her numerous wrapped boxes and stuffed bags, she asked, "Should I open them up first or cut th–"

"The cake! Do the cake first!" Peter appeared by her side with a knife in hand. "C'mon ya know ya want to."

Scott interjected to tell Peter to shut up and let Jean make the decision. To prevent an argument from arising between the two men, she did both at the same time. She unwrapped Kurt's gift while telepathically cutting the cake with perfect precision. Without wasting another second, Peter brought two plates of cakes to the sofa. He gave one to you and ate his own piece as if he hadn't eaten in a month.

Soon he was on his third slice. "It's so good!" The others chimed their agreement.

From across the room, Ororo asked, "You made this from scratch?"

Peter answered before you could open your mouth. "I basically did everything. She did a little towards the end but it was mostly all me."

You jabbed him in the stomach with your elbow. "It was a collaborative effort."

You smiled at the deserved praise, but frowned when Peter was on his fifth slice. If he kept up this rate, he would finish the cake before the party ended. Scott noticed this as well. "Hey, Maximoff, slow down. The rest of us would like to have more too."

You agreed, "He's right, Peter."

"I can't help myself," he whined.

This problem had to be resolved. You helped a confused Peter up who questioned where you two were going. "You love my baking right." He nodded his head in assent. "But Twinkies are still better?" This was a sensitive topic to bring up.

No matter how fantastic your creation was, it still took second place to Peter's love of Twinkies. You had made it your life's mission to accomplish the impossible and make him admit your desserts were superior. "Well, buster, I have a new quadruple chocolate cake that'll make you see differently."

Peter's eyes widened in excitement. "Quadruple!"

"That's right, wanna try it?" Suffice to say, his interest peaked. The night was spent in the kitchen again with Peter as your baking partner.