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Malikai’s life had taken him many places. Before all that, though, he had begun as the third son of a service officer, and a baker. His mother had crafted—in his personal and heavily biased opinion—the best pastries in their sector in his youth, perhaps the best in Valmon or all of Belrea for that matter. Less biased sources had agreed, if not as to their national superiority, then at least as to their high quality and flavor.

As a boy, he had stolen into his mother’s kitchen frequently. But even on business, Myella Dorran had taken time to enlist his ‘aid’ (a more accurate term when he became older) and, when he could appreciate the instruction, had given him guiding advice on projects of his own while she worked. Into his teenage years, he had lost the time and opportunity to engage in such things — or simply no longer made the time for it — he grew, traveled, and became involved in a multitude of other life engagements which took precedence and kept him far from home. In his mid-twenties, his mother had passed away, and for those and the years after, he had not touched kitchen nor cookbook.

Fatherhood, and eventual stability, had a way of adjusting priorities once again.

Though the first months had been tumultuous in their own ways, life with twin infants and a young spouse had calmed (relatively) quicker than he could have hoped for, and from there, cooking had gradually become a part of life again. Baking came later. Fast forward six years, and on any given day, it could have been either he or Naarhiji who took on the task of meal making—but this was different.

This was Malikai trekking up the winding pebbled dirt path to their home, arms full of variety of bagged ingredients, none of which were intended to be dinner. He couldn’t recall the last time they had made anything which classified as a dessert or sweet-eat, and that in and of itself seemed reason enough to vary things up. Every now and then a treat seemed in order after all, particularly for young children.

And young spouses with a sweet tooth, but that was another matter.

He didn’t so much as make it to the door before he had at least one pair of intent violet eyes peeking around the corner of the house at him. In case it was meant to be a sneak attack, Malikai kept his eyes to the path after that, and his smile to himself. Far be it from he to ruin the element of surprise.

Daddy should have been home by now.

That had been Erasmus’ thought, only further emphasized when his momma began to cook. He was hungry too, but Daddy had been gone all day, and it didn’t seem to him likely that they would eat without him. Thus, while his brother made more vocal inquiries as to both issues (the estimated arrival times of both food and father), Era’s eyes kept flitting to the window—as if, despite his six-year-old stature, he might be able to catch a glimpse of activity outside. A glimpse of his father’s orange hair or some other sign from fate.

But there wasn’t much to see from his angle without following Percy’s lead and attempting to hoist himself onto the counters. And Percy was very successfully distracting most of their momma’s attention anyway — so Era took his opportunity to quietly duck out, slipping out the door when he got there and edging around the corner of the house to peek.

Immediately, a swell of satisfaction came because right there, at least now in the process of coming up the path, was their daddy. And not empty handed, either.

His lips had only just gotten the chance to settle into the smuggest look of anticipation a child’s face could make when-

“Hhhg-aaack—!”

Full on bodily collision sent him toppling forward to the earth, dashing any ‘secrecy’ to his sneaking to begin with (however nonexistent) in an instant. But upon seeing Percy, any splinter of offense was immediately done away with, and Era’s expression softened. When Percy’s cheek pressed to his, he gave a pleased hum of amusement, gaze flitting back to its original target as his mini smirk returned. Even if his cover had been blown, he still had figured out valuable information, and notched his chin forward, indicating towards their father.

“Daddy’s got somethin’,” he said. Then, as if on cue from a rumble in his stomach, he glanced over to what his brother had ‘got.’ He accepted a roll and inspected it. A bit dusted with the spices of the earth, but — after a few puffs to encourage some of the ground-and-gravel seasonings off and a bit of light shaking — in perfectly acceptable condition to pop into his mouth. “‘Ou ‘anna—mmmm—” Era swallowed his mouthful, “get ‘im? Bet it’s good if it took ‘im so long to get, haven’ gotten stuff from town in a while—maybe there’s presents.”

Percivle did not require much convincing.

Of course, that was just as well so far as Era was concerned. He wanted treats and excitement as much as the next rambunctious six-year-old, and was still in the process of eating Percy’s first offering when his brother was up, using him as a brace-ladder first and then something to pull at a second after. He cooperated, if not with perfect grace, and was licking his fingers when Percy darted off.

And, well, that just wouldn’t do without him—so a moment later, Erasmus took after him, chasing on his brother’s heels.

Malikai grunted upon impact, glancing down to the culprit — plural the next second — and raised his eyebrows. “Oi, mean is ‘e?” he repeated, mocking mild shock. “I don’ think that sounds like the beautiful man I married, does it? Dunno if ‘e has a mean bone in his body…” He stooped then, though, crouching before them and grinning before speaking quieter, as if in secret. “But if ‘e did, he might o’ had a good reason, mm? And…” He folded one of the bags over just before Erasmus’ fingers could sneak inside to investigate, “…he mighta said it’s a bit of a surprise I got in here—”

“Is it presents?” Erasmus clung to one shoulder, standing on tip toe and then hanging, as though a different angle might reveal some hint of the package. “It smells like food—Percy is hungry, and I am. Why did it take so long—?”

“It’s a project,” Malikai said. “For all of us, aye? Why don’t you both race on back to your mother and tell ‘im we’re ready when he is, an’ inside, I’ll show you all I got, mm?”

Erasmus spent all of a second and a half hovering where he was, glancing from his father’s packages to Percivle, to his father, the house—and then he was off. “Momma! Momma, Daddy’s back!”

“It was a long time,” Era said, with all the casual indignance of someone stating something obvious that didn’t really need repeating. Sometimes it took several repetitions before Momma and Daddy understood things though, so he didn’t belabor the thought. Instead, he clung loosely to his mother’s leg after the race in, watching as Daddy approached—at a much slower rate, but at least he was in view now and rewards were imminent.

What precisely those ‘rewards’ were was still some degree of a mystery, given that ‘project’ wasn’t very specific and he glanced up to his mother.

“What kind of project is it?” he asked. Momma had been cooking already this evening, so it couldn’t be dinner—and that raised another question besides. “Daddy said ‘we’re ready when you are’, are we going to eat dinner first or see what he got?”

Despite being a well-fed child, it was by now evening enough that he was hungry and ready for more than just stolen snacks, but whether or not that hunger was enough to make dinner feel more immediately important than knowing the surprise was less clear. Surely they had time to peek first even if dinner would be ready soon, and if there was to be some project beforehand that involved something worth taking all day to gather, that was probably exciting enough to be worth the wait.

When Daddy made it to the threshold and dipped to give Momma a kiss, Era wrinkled his nose and released his grip, reaching to catch at Percy instead. At least they progressed inward after that, and despite dinner on the stove, Daddy did set his bags atop the counter and begin unloading. Small fingers clasped to the countertop edge and Era perched up onto his toes to spy. Eggs. Sugar. Butter. Small brown — chocolate? — chunks. He didn’t know what else they might be, but sweets of any sort were a treat to be relished and he gave a small bounce on his toes.

“Are we going to make something?” he asked.

Daddy looked fairly pleased with himself at least, which was usually a good sign. “Aye,” he said, and after having finished arranging the ingredients of their ‘project’ on the counter, he stooped, encouraging both boys in so that he could loop one arm around each of his sons and hoist, with Era and Percy one at each hip, and high enough that they could see the full arrangement. “Can y’ guess what just from lookin’? What all does this make if y’ put it together? We could do anythin’ we wanted with it.”

Percy got one.

Despite looking, Era hadn’t taken the extra step in attempting to snatch. He supposed he figured they wouldn’t be permitted immediately to snack, and it seemed Mama agreed, tapping Percy’s seeking fingers back. But he still got one, and in the moments before Daddy had picked them up Era’s attention had stuck there, half impressed and half regretful he hadn’t tried himself.

He did like chocolate a great deal.

But then Daddy had hoisted them, and in the moments after, when he invited guesses, Era wriggled. A whole cake. Percy seemed full of the best ideas. “I like cookies,” he said. “Then there can be lots of them and have…” He leaned, trying to just see if he tipped enough in Daddy’s grasp, perhaps he could reach—but no, Malikai adjusted him back, and Era huffed, “…everyone make a different one, and put the chocolate on top.”

That seemed to be more or less usually where it went on cookies, and they didn’t look complicated.

Daddy grunted, turning so that he could catch a kiss, and Era made a face, adjusting so that he was hanging to squint at Mama over his shoulder. “I—”

…if you make it now, it can bake while we eat…

Make, then eat, then dessert. Mama’s ideas were as good as Percy’s. Sometimes. “I wanna eat, let’s make it with all the chocolate—” Here, Era… Erasmus blinked, taking only half a moment to process the partly-melted confection being pressed against his lips before beaming and opening his mouth.

“Now be careful,” Malikai cautioned, though Erasmus was hardly paying attention, “don’t fall or make a…mess.”

The warning may have come too late, Era having already happily taken up what was offered and earned a warm smudge of brown about his mouth for his efforts. He was content, though, to lick up the remainder—from Percy's fingers and then his own lips as he hummed with satisfaction—and Malikai at least concluded there probably wasn’t much harm in it, being that expecting a baking process with six-year-olds to be ‘mess free’ was likely delusional more than anything in any case.

If his mother considered his actions anything other than perfectly and completely normal—necessary, even, so as not to waste the chocolate, and pleasant besides because Percy’s fingers wriggled under his licks—then Erasmus was as wholly and completely oblivious to the concern. Thus, when he was pulled—rudely—away from a job unfinished, he puffed, looking just for a moment quite offended at being robbed of-

Oh, well, he was getting big, wasn’t he?

Era hummed along the rest of the way to the kitchen table, appeased at least momentarily by the praise, and further so by the time he was set down and Mama kissed his hair. Really, it wasn’t so bad. There was a lot more chocolate. “Percy’s getting big too,” he vouched. “You’re giving us just the right amount so we grow up big at the same speed-” He paused, though, on a thought. “If Percy eats more cookies than me will he get bigger faster?”

He was fairly certain there was a close relationship between food and growth. His parents certainly seemed to put a great deal of importance on what they ate and how crucial that was for growth. But did that mean that other children who ate more would—? Well, it didn’t seem to matter as much when Percy began squirming and reaching out, and Era peered back around before grinning and bouncing in place much as he dared.

“Come on, Percy, you can come on-”

Malikai, for his part, immediately shifted his grip when Percy leaned, reaching to better stabilize with his second hand when the boy leaned abruptly out. “A-ah, oi, careful now, mm?” After satisfying himself that Percy wouldn’t fall, however, there seemed nothing wrong with consenting the request just the same, and he adjusted again, this time easing the boy down so that they could join Era and Naar at the table.

“Now remember,” Malik cautioned as Era reached to pull the largest, center bowl towards himself and Percy, “…the more o’ this we get in bowls an’ not on the floor, the more there is t’ eat after.”

Erasmus watched with interest as his brother’s fist summoned a white puff of flour. That looked at least as much fun as anything else going on in that particular moment and he wanted to touch it and make it puff—

His mother’s voice distracted him instead, and ohh, he held the small bottle with special care, as though he were being trusted with something extra important. Mama had said it was strong, but still put the task in his hands. He could. Era made a bit of a face. He didn’t want to be different—or, not too much so, anyway. He knew he and his brother were unique ‘on the inside’ — or wherever it was that personalities were housed — they thought different things and had different approaches to certain aspects of life despite enjoying many of the same things.

And that was alright. It was how it should be. They weren’t the same person just because they looked alike.

But the fact that they did look alike and had since they were born felt to Era like something special. Not everyone had what he had. Percivle was somehow more his brother than any other pair of siblings, and while changing wouldn’t make him any less so, it still felt improper for them to veer too far apart. They were meant to be two parts of a unit and so, if Percivle was going to grow a big belly, he would have to also. After a glance from his brother’s belly to his father’s, though, he decided they were probably a good safe ways off for the moment.

Right now, they were both equal in their distance from matching their father’s weight. So all it meant going forward was that he would have to eat just as many as Percy did.

Cookies and boo-

Era squinted. “Boogers?” The skin at the bridge of his nose wrinkled with distaste. “I don’t wanna eat-” His attention was again distracted by Percy though as he fetched eggs. A wise choice, Era thought. Eggs always looked fun and goopy and strange, great bonus points for the fact that at least in this case the goal was to break, which was rarely boring. At Percy’s encouragement, Era blinked, and then grinned.

Mama had said-

But a quick glance ascertained that Daddy was seeking attention, temporarily conveniently distracting—perhaps whispering about cookies and boogers, but the content wasn’t immediately important—and what Erasmus saw was opportunity. Hastily fiddling open the top, Era leaned over to hold his bottle over the center mixing bowl, and poured.

“Oi, ah—no, not boogers,” Malikai clarified, “and don’t-”

He made a bit of a muted sound as the contents of the vanilla bottle upended in the bowl, and if it was one of discontent or concern—well, that was alright. It couldn’t be that bad, Erasmus reasoned, and it did smell noticeably now of the sweet scent. He liked that flavor and more importantly Percy liked that flavor, and nothing could be very wrong with having more of something they both liked.

So, he chose to focus on his brother’s comment and approval, and hummed with an agreeing nod, watching Percy take on the egg. Yet, though he followed all the same steps — take up egg, crack gently against side of bowl — that didn’t seem to produce the results they were familiar with seeing when Mama or Daddy did it, so of course he had to tap it a little harder and-

Oh, well, at least it broke.

Erasmus grinned and eagerly took up one from the carton. Crushing them looked more fun anyway. He leaned over the bowl, holding it on one side and bringing his egg in to tap, tap—sssccrrrchh—against the inside of the bowl. He wasn’t sure whether he’d have described the results as ‘cracked’ or ‘smushed’ but regardless, the interior of his egg joined the interior of Percy’s in shlooping down to the base of the egg-vanilla mixture, and if his hand only managed to take away a portion of the shell on the withdrawal at least the important part was still in there.

“How many can we put?” Era asked, reaching for another. “Does the shell have flavo-?”

“Aahhh-mm…” Malikai, somehow, had formed behind him, large hand stilling Era’s wrist a moment before he crushed his second egg against the bowl. “How, ah…how about…” Erasmus glanced back to watch Daddy eye the bowl with something that now did distinctly look like concern—but no, that couldn’t be right, and a moment later, Malikai smiled. “How about…” He ‘helped’ Era set the egg aside for a moment, despite the pout this inspired. “We just…” Carefully taking the remainder of a shell — a smooth, curved portion, almost like a spoon, Era thought — Malikai scooped and plucked out the crushed portions of shell that had made it into the bowl. After it looked like all that remained was egg and extract, he hummed. “How about we do th’ next two together, mm? Mama an’ Percy an’ you an’ me. Two more eggs.”

“I can do it-” Era began. He thought they’d done a fairly good job. But, as Daddy took up his hand and set the egg back in it before carefully laying his larger one over behind it, this wasn’t so bad. He was still the one holding the egg, so really, it was mostly him. Probably.

And, when Daddy helped him move the egg into place to tap against the rim of the bowl, admittedly it did just seem smoother and—Erasmus gave a small squeal of interest as it cracked, and dropped out perfectly, one-handed, shell still cupped in his palm and braced by Daddy’s fingers. If Malikai’s hand had guided it all that didn’t seem to matter. He had been the one to feel it crack and shloop in, and so it felt like an accomplishment.