The last of the dishes clinked as Carol placed them in the drying rack. Chris leaned back in his chair, letting out a satisfied sigh. Lunch had been simple but comforting—his mom’s homemade chicken noodle soup and some leftovers from last night. Nothing fancy, but the kind of meal that always left him feeling content.
Chris glanced over at Mason, who was finishing off his second roll. Despite the crumbs clinging to the fur around his muzzle, Mason somehow looked effortlessly charming. Chris resisted the impulse to brush them away himself, instead focusing on stacking the plates on the table.
“I’ll take care of that,” Carol said, swiftly taking the plates from Chris. “You go relax. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
Chris hesitated, but Carol shot him a look that brooked no argument. He reluctantly sank back into his chair. He appreciated the gesture, but “relaxing” wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.
Mason seemed to pick up on his fidgeting and leaned in slightly. “Why don’t we bake something together?” he suggested. “Your mom mentioned to me that it helps you relax.”
“Oh, did she?” Chris raised an eyebrow, glancing toward his mother. Carol responded with a playful, knowing smile that she and Jake shared before opening the cabinet above her and pulling out a small square tin. She then made her way past the table toward the living room.
“I’ll be in the living room if you boys need me,” she said playfully.
Chris rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, fine.” He stood, moving toward the counter and opening the tin. Inside were neatly kept handwritten recipe cards, each one well-worn from years of use.
Mason rose from the table and stepped closer, peering over Chris’s shoulder as he flipped through the cards. “So, what are we making, Chef Chris?”
“Cookies,” Chris answered without hesitation, pulling out a well-loved card. He held it up for Mason to see, smiling slightly. “Simple, delicious, and almost impossible to mess up. Even uses a special brand of chocolate chips that won’t make canines sick. Think you can handle it?”
Mason snatched the card with a grin, reading aloud with exaggerated seriousness. “Preheat the oven to 375. I think I can handle that.” He walked over to the oven, fumbling briefly with the dials before managing to set the temperature. Chris smirked and started pulling ingredients from the pantry.
The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind of organized chaos as they worked together. Chris measured the flour with practiced precision, while Mason tried (and mostly failed) to crack an egg without getting more shell than yolk.
“Really?” Chris asked, stifling a grin as he used a spatula to fish out the bits of eggshell.
“Hey, it’s harder than it looks,” Mason protested, his ears flicking in slight embarrassment. Chris could barely hold back his smile.
Mason quickly made up for the egg mishap by mixing the dough with surprising focus and efficiency, his tail wagging steadily behind him. Watching Mason work with such determination made Chris feel strangely at ease.
When the dough was ready, Chris opened a drawer to his right, revealing an assortment of cookie cutters in all shapes and sizes. Mason’s eyes lit up at the sight.
"Now the fun part," Chris said, pulling out a heart-shaped cutter and a few others. "What do you think, are we going for cute, or just delicious?"
Mason’s tail swished as he scanned the cutters, his grin widening. “Why not both? Let’s make these cookies as adorable as they are tasty.”
Chris chuckled. “Well, if you insist."
They spent the next few minutes shaping the dough into hearts, stars, and one very lopsided paw print, which Mason insisted was "abstract." As they worked, the room filled with the warm, comforting scent of baking, and for the first time in a while, Chris felt his worries ease, replaced by the simple joy of baking with someone who, despite his occasional clumsiness, had a way of making everything feel... just right.
As the last cookie was cut out, Chris slid the tray into the oven with a satisfying thud. He stood up and wiped his hands on a towel, glancing over at Mason, who was now carefully washing his hands in the sink.
"All set," Chris said, leaning back against the counter. “Now, we wait.”
Mason nodded, scrubbing at his paws with a little more care than necessary. When he finished, he turned, leaning against the counter beside Chris. The kitchen was quiet for a moment, the only sounds the hum of the oven and the soft clinking of dishes being tidied up.
Chris glanced over at Mason, feeling an unexpected warmth in his chest. It was the kind of simple, comfortable silence that felt easy. Not like the awkwardness he sometimes felt with others, but the kind that only seemed to grow as he spent more time with Mason.
“So,” Chris started, breaking the silence, “how are you liking the cookies so far?”
Mason smiled, his tail wagging gently. “Honestly, they’re probably going to be the best cookies I’ve ever had. If they taste half as good as they smell, I’ll be sold.”
Chris chuckled, glancing at the oven. “That’s high praise coming from someone who can’t crack an egg properly.”
“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” Mason’s ears flicked back, but he was clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “I’m a fast learner. And I think the dough’s turned out pretty well, so...” He gave a mock bow. “You can thank me later.”
Chris shook his head, amused. “I think the dough’s good because I was the one who did most of the work. But I’ll let you take credit, if you insist.”
Mason nudged his shoulder playfully. “Oh, I’m not just taking credit. I’m owning it.”
Chris chuckled, and the room fell into a peaceful silence. Neither of them said a word, simply choosing to enjoy the other’s company. Chris soon felt Mason wrap his arm around him, and he moved to rest his head on the husky’s shoulder, taking care not to hit Mason with his antlers.
“This was a good idea,” Chris eventually said. “Between everything that’s been happening recently, all the chaos, stress, and…unexpected developments…” The man gave a subtle glance down at his new hooves. “…This has been a great way to forget about all that.”
“I’m happy I’ve been able to help,” Mason replied softly, and Chris could see his face turning red beneath the thinner fur on his muzzle.
Lifting his head up, Chris turned to fully face Mason, looking deep into the husky’s vivid blue eyes. Wordlessly, Mason wrapped his arms around Chris’s neck, tilting his head and leaning in slowly…
The oven timer dinged, causing both of them to flinch. Reluctantly, Chris pulled away from Mason to take the cookies out. As he opened the oven, the sweet, savory smell began to waft through the kitchen, making Mason lick his lips.
“Those smell amazing…” he said, moving behind Chris as he set the tray down on the stovetop to cool. “Probably taste even better.”
“Let’s find out,” Chris said, grabbing a spatula and gently scooping Mason’s “abstract art” cookie off the tray. He handed it to Mason, who almost immediately took a bite. The husky flinched a little due to the cookie’s heat, quickly chewing and swallowing the first bite to blow on the rest of the cookie.
“These are amazing…” he said, taking another bite. “Still pretty hot, but amazing nonetheless.”
Chris laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed a cookie for himself. “Well they’re obviously hot since they just came out of the oven. But I’m glad you think they turned out well.”
Mason finished his cookie, crumbs decorating his muzzle. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before reaching for another cookie. “Seriously though, this was great.”
Chris nodded, feeling a comfortable warmth settle in his chest. “Yeah, it’s been perfect…next time, I’ll teach you how to make a pie.”
“If it’s anything like this was, then count me in,” Mason said with a grin.
They both shared a quiet smile before grabbing a few more cookies, leaning back against the counter as they enjoyed the sweet fruits of their labor.