fandomhigh | Cupcake War Crimes, Week 7 (Tuesday, Period 1)

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cupcake war crimes

Cupcake War Crimes, Week 7 (Tuesday, Period 1)

The classroom was set up in the usual fashion. And the alien boys were up front as usual.

"This is our last week together," Stark said, a little sadly. He would miss them. Or possibly he’d miss having a captive audience to talk about cupcakes with. Perhaps, and most likely, it was a combination of the two.

Anders patted Stark lightly on the shoulder, and if he was betting on the answer to Stark’s narrative he’d bet on "a combination of the two." Which he wasn’t doing at the moment. (Maybe later.) "You’re not getting away without a final," he put in, "but it’s a final where you get to eat. That’s okay with you guys, right?"

On the trays behind the aliens was an assortment of cupcakes. For once they weren’t clearly divided between what your teachers considered scary cupcakes and delicious ones. Today the cupcakes were all mixed in together. There were cupcakes with mushrooms next to chocolate ones with peanut butter frosting. Ginger and molasses cupcakes next to ones made with okra and fennel. There were Meyer lemon and raspberry cupcakes cavorting with olive oil cupcakes with lemon, thyme, and a balsamic vinegar whipped cream. And toasted ravioli cupcakes snuggled innocently up to some sugary, bacony, decadent looking breakfast cupcakes. (It was the final, after all. Nobody said it was going to be, well, a cupcake walk.)

"Your task," Stark said, gazing longingly at a chocolate glazed mocha cupcake, "is to identify the cupcakes here. Not ingredients," he quickly clarified.

"They’re not separated today," Anders added, giving the students a look like he was trying to impress the Seriousness of this on them. "It’s up to you guys to figure out which is which using only your wits. And tastebuds."

Stepping to one side, he gestured to a large picture of the Cupcake Wars hosts put up across one wall, with a tarp on the floor beneath it. "And if you get the bad ones, you can use ‘em for target practice."

Stark nodded his approval, though he was somewhat concerned that the good cupcakes might end up flying as well. That would be such a terrible waste. "Before we begin though, we should congratulate Rilla Blythe. You win for last week." After 5 winners, Stark still wasn’t sure how they were chosen or by whom. Neither was Anders; he was blaming it on gremlins.

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"You say that like I'm wearing some dominatrix get-up with a whip and not like, a perfectly normal outfit." Not that she didn't dress to emphasize her more attractive qualities, but still! "Do I need to get a nun's habit so you can think for yourself?"

"No," he frowned at her, even while his brain was having a pause there to picture that. He didn't know what to make of it, honestly. "Maybe I like it this way!"

"You...like not being able to think for yourself?" This worried Caroline just a little bit if the look on her face was any indication.

He laughed and tilted his head, studying her. "I like what I see."

Was he seriously checking her out after she made him eat a mushroom cupcake? Dammit, she didn't expect that to make her blush, though she tried to cover. "Well, that's not exactly a surprise."

Look, it was kind of a given that he was going to check her out pretty much anytime. He might have rolled his eyes at her answer, but the slight flush was enough to have him grinning. He was getting good at this.

"I rest my case."

"And somehow now you're smug," she muttered, shaking her head. "You so need help. Should I arrange an intervention?"

"My room?"

What? He still thought he was going to get high from just breathing in hers.

"Sorry, but if you have no free will, we probably shouldn't be alone in a room together."

And wasn't that a sad consequence of this conversation?

"Are you saying I can't even trust my own girlfriend?" he asked. "That's kind of sad."

"Um, duh. I don't deal well with power," she reminded him. "Though, I'm kind of tempted to make you forget this conversation ever happened..."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I think the cupcakes went to your head."

That made no sense and he didn't care.

"It's a possibility. I ate one of the super strange ones made of olive oil and death," she explained, snagging his hand rather than wiping his memory.

"We can get some real food after," he offered, squeezing her hand. He kind of liked keeping his memory, thanks.

"And when you say real food you mean I can take you to the Lobster Hut and get one of those ultimate feast things and pretend I'm going to share it with you and then not?" Caroline smiled like she knew what he was going to say.

"Only if you're prepared to not share something else this evening," he informed her. Two could play at that game.

"Oh now that's just mean to yourself," she pointed out, giving his hand a little tug. "I'm the one who made her alcove a welcoming place for giants in need of sleep."

"Yeah?" he smirked at her. "Am I hogging you up then? Are there other giants complaining they want a turn?"

"Yup. Guess tonight's the night," she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I should probably let them know..."

His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out to snag that phone right out of her hands. But then... "Yeah? So who's on the list?"

"No one you know," she promised, not glancing up as she started typing quickly on the screen. "Just tonight, right? I don't want to go giving out bad information, that would be incredibly rude."

Yeah, okay. That was about as far as his patience went and Jake reached out to try and snag the phone from her.

"Hey!" Caroline complained as her phone slipped from her fingers. She was still smirking, even if she hadn't been finished typing up her message.

He made a face at her and glanced down at the phone, reading what she'd been typing. Which apparently was to him and he laughed.

"I didn't," he told her. Okay, so maybe he'd flailed when she kept pretending. That was just natural.

"You so totally did," she corrected, reaching to take her phone back. "Obviously you have zero faith in me."

Cupcake War Crimes, Week 7 (Tuesday, Period 1)

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