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Cookie Drabbles

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The Toews kid is competitive, on ice and with everything else, and playing Call of Duty with the kid quickly became a regular thing for Seabrook. And since other teammates decided since Seabrook has kept one rookie alive so far, they can dump Kane off like his place is a daycare.  Seabrook doesn’t mind—when the rookies aren’t arguing, Kane isn’t as noticeable with how addicted he is to his phone—and Toews takes up more of his attention.

He really, really wants to beat the little shit so it took Seabs about a half an hour or so to realize the other rookie disappeared on the fourth time both kids are his place.

“Hey, where’s Kane?”

Toews frowns at him (or really, his competitive frown deepens).  “I think he went to grab a drink?”

Seabrook has the mental image of the kid getting into his beer and doing something stupid because, well, kids are stupid.  He drops his controller and heads into the kitchen.  Duncan won’t let him live down one of the rookies raiding his liquor cabinet. 

“What’s been taking so lo…”  For a moment, Seabrook has a little freakout because his kitchen table has white powder all over it but the smell of cookies and chocolate hits him before he can strangle Kane for doing something stupid. 

“I’m making chocolate chip cookies.”  Kane says, placing spoonfuls of cookie dough carefully spaced on a baking sheet.

“Why?”

Kane looks at Seabrook like he is insane.  “Cookies are easy to make.”

Normally, Seabrook would agree but normally Seabrook would be talking about the pre-packaged cookie dough that only Duncan could mess up. “Right.  Do you make cookies often?”

“Sometimes.”  Kane shrugs.

“Need any help?”

“The ones in the oven are probably done.”

Seabrook grabs the oven mitts and pulls the baking sheet out and places it on the stove.

Kane looks up.  “If you don’t take them off, they’ll burn.”

“Oh.”  Seabrook digs a spatula out of the drawer and dishes out the cookies onto a plate.  “So that’s what goes wrong all the time.”

Kane snorts.

“What are you guys doing?”  Toews asks as he walks into the kitchen.  The smell of chocolate chip cookies (or the lack of video game competition) must have lured Toews into the kitchen. 

“What does it look like?”  Kane puts the second tray into the oven and sets the timer. 

Toews gestures towards Seabrook’s plate of cookies.  “You made these?”

“No.  The cookie fairy showed up.”

Seabrook laughs at the kids and grabs a cookie.  The cookie is still too hot but the chocolate is molten and delicious. 

“Are you sure those are edible?”  Toews asks.

“I’m not poisoning him or anything.”  Kane says and glares at Toews.

Toews picks up a cookie.  “You sure?” 

“Just eat the fucking cookie.” Kane crosses his arms.

Awkward rookie standoff.  Kane looks as if he will kill Toews if the guy insults his cookies and Toews has an awkward, pinched expression like the cookies are somehow repulsive.

(And the cookies totally aren’t repulsive.  Seabrook is on his third one and his kitchen actually smells good for once.)

Toews nibbles on the cookie slowly and, halfway done with the cookie, says, “These aren’t bad.”

Kane smirks, all self-satisfied and at home in the kitchen with flour in his hair.  If the kid normally bakes like this, Seabrook almost wants to switch rookies.  Or force the kids to be friends so the Kane ends up over more to bake cookies.

“Needs more chocolate chips though.”

Kane looks like a rather pissed of Chihuahua but he grins at Seabrook.  “Good thing these are for Seabs then.”

Seabrook grins back at him and pulls the plate of cookies closer to himself. 

Chapter Text

Sharp wakes up slowly, warm and content.  He doesn’t want to get up but the smell of oatmeal cookies is strong and Sharp is always hungry is after a nap.  He follows the smell to the kitchen.

He probably should be more surprised to find Kane with his wife.

“What did you bribe him with this time, Abs?”

Abby shrugs.  “He just kind of showed up.”

“And just started making cookies?  A likely story.”  Sharp grins at her.

“Yep.  Why on earth would I ever bribe a guy to make me delicious cookies when I supposedly married a handsome, charming hockey player?”  Abby says.  “You would think the hockey player that I married could make cookies on his own.”

“Huh.”  Sharp leans on the counter.  “Good thing you married me for things other than the ability to make cookies.  Now, Kaner on the other hand does not have much going for him—“

“I can hear you.”  Kane says but he doesn’t look up from putting the dough on the sheet.  “And being this close to your flirting is really gross.”

Abby laughs at him and grabs a chunk of cookie dough from the bowl.  Sharp reaches for the bowl.

Kane smacks his hand with the spoon.  “Who said you could have any?”

Sharp snorts and goes for the dough again.

Kane attacks him with the spoon, hitting him repeatedly until Sharp relents.

“Hey!  What are you, my mother?”  Sharp says, rubbing his hand.

Kane’s eyes narrow and Sharp has words ready at the tip of his tongue but Abby knows them.  “If either of you make a your mama joke, I’ll…”

“You will what?”  Sharp asks with a grin.

“You will be on the couch and Kane will…”  Abby looks at the cookies and then back at Kane, weighing the decision to threaten the guy making her cookies.

“I wouldn’t do that, Mrs. Sharp.”  Kane says with a puppy dog pout that made him look about five years younger. 

Abby laughs and pats him on the cheek.  “I’ll pretend to believe you.”

Kaner grins, real and bashful in a way that is become more and more rare for him.

Sharp is half tempted to tease Kane about trying to charm his wife but Sharp has been the victim of that pout before—and stupidly let Kane get away with doing stupid shit for it—and Abby would have too much fun with that.

Instead, Sharp reaches for the bowl of cookie dough again.

Chapter Text

Hjalmarsson isn’t exactly awake when he lets Kane in.  He downs half a cup of coffee before he consciously realizes Kane is in his kitchen.  Hjalmarsson isn’t exactly sure how Kane ended up with a rolling pin and a mass of…something.

“What is that?”

Kane gives him an are you serious look that is more familiar on Tazer’s face.  Kane sighs and gestures with the rolling pin.  “It’s dough.”

“For what?”

“Kolaches.  You know, cookies.”

Hjalmarsson doesn’t know and still doesn’t get why Kane is in his kitchen.  “Kolaches aren’t Swedish.”

“What, you only eat Swedish cookies?”  Kane drops the rolling pin and crosses his arms, getting flour everywhere.  “You’re going to have to give me a recipe if you want Swedish cookies.”

Hjalmarsson blinks a few times.  This could be a dream induced by cheap American vodka.  “Kolaches are good?”

Kane wipes his hands on his already flour covered shirt and grabs the rolling pin again.  “Then pick out the kind of jelly you want.  I only brought strawberry with me.”

Chapter Text

Crawford hates losing.  He isn’t happy about Kane showing up at his place after a loss but he let Kane in because Kane had beer and, well, Kane’s his teammate and Crawford can’t exactly leave Kane standing in front of his door. 

Kane digs around his kitchen and Crawford watches him, trying not to think about the game.  Which is really hard to forget when one of his teammates invades his house.  He just looks at Kane and can’t stop thinking about how they lost.

“Crow,” Kane asks, oddly loud in the quiet kitchen.  “Do you like sugar cookies?”

“Yes,” Crawford says cautiously.  “It’s too late to get them from somewhere.”

“You have everything here.”

Crawford frowns.  “If you found cookies, they are probably too old to be good.”

“Ingredients, man.”  Kane stood up, smiling and with containers in each arm.  “You even have powdered sugar.”

“What?”

“For the frosting.  Homemade is the best.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up or something?”  Crawford asks.  The idea of Kane baking is kind of funny and Crawford has the horrible feeling that tonight will end in food poisoning. 

“I’m trying to make cookies.  Why is the only cookie cutter you have a moose?”

“I have a cookie cutter?”

Kane doesn’t seem to be listening and may actually be talking to the growing pile of containers, bowls, spoons, and other things Crawford’s parents had insisted he needed on the counter.  “When Canadians cross the border, do they give you something with a moose on it?  Like Duncs’s footie pajamas.”

“Keith has footie pajamas?”  Crawford pictures it and takes another drink of his beer to hide his smile.

Kane looks at him and points the rolling pin in his direction.  “With moose on them.”

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“Seriously, a snowman tin?”  Carcillo says as Kaner loads up the metal round with gingersnaps.  “What’s next, reindeer figurines?”

Kaner snaps the lid closed with one cookie left out.  “Tins make cookies last longer.”

“Your mama tell you that?”

“Yep.”  Kaner says with a soft smile.

“Aren’t you going to save any for yourself?”

“These are all mine.  Why would I give you any?  You didn’t do anything.”  Kaner holds the tin close to his chest.  Taking the cookies from him would be like stealing candy from a baby…which makes just grabbing the cookies morally awkward this close to Christmas.

But Carcillo just might because he just spent an hour watching Kaner make gingersnaps and only getting of a taste of the nasty cookie dough. 

“Hey, it’s my kitchen and I picked out music.  I’m trying to wean you ‘Hawks off of crappy music.”  Carcillo says.  “It’s my good deed of the year and I think I deserve the cookies.”

The little shit raises his eyebrows.  “I thought you didn’t want my gay cookies.”

“I said they’re gay.  Doesn’t mean I don’t want them.” Carcillo says, trying to figure out the best way to get the cookies.  “What, do you want me to apologize for calling you gay?”

“You call me all sorts of shit.” Kaner munches on a gingersnap.  Carcillo isn’t sure if Kaner is eating slowly to be annoying or if his stomach is playing tricks on his brain because those cookies smell so good.

“True.  So, about the cookies…”

Kaner finishes the cookie and licks his fingers.  He sets the tin on the counter.  “I suppose it’s Christmas.  You better give me a good present.”

“Sure.  Whatever.”  Carcillo grabs the tin before Kaner can take it back again.

Kane grabs his coat off of one of the chairs. 

“Wait, don’t you want food or something?”

“Not interested in food poisoning.”  Kaner says with a grin, putting his coat on his way out of the room.  “See you later!”

Carcillo looks at the mess of bowls and baking sheets on the counters.  “That little shit.”

He opens the tin and eats one of the cookies.  They really are as good as they smell. 

Chapter Text

 

Kaner baking took him about about a year to get used to and Toews has long since figured out chocolate chip cookies are his .  Kane bakes for other people but if Kane is making chocolate chip cookies, he makes them when Toews is over or they're at Toews’s apartment.

So Kaner’s apartment smelling like chocolate cookies is weird.  Kaner has no reason to think Toews is going to show up.  

Well, besides the fact that Tazer often shows up.

Tazer drops his bag on the couch and heads towards the kitchen, wondering who Kane is making cookies for.  He doesn’t make that many chocolate cookies so maybe he’s making something for one of the new guys.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” Toews says for what feels like (and possibly could be) the thousandth time.  He is amused to see that, yes, there are chocolate chip cookies sitting on a rack.  “Were you expecting me or something?”

Kaner looks up from his laptop and rolls his eyes.  “No.”

“Then why are you making chocolate chip cookies?”

“The wind is blowing in the right direction.”  Kaner smirks at him.  “It’s a sign.  Or something.”

“What, are you Mary Poppins?  Seriously, Kaner.”  He takes a minute to think about how much time to add to his work out before a cookie.  The cookies well worth extra time at the gym.

Kaner shrugs.  “Chocolate chips were on sale.”

“You’re a millionaire.  What does it matter whether they are on sale or not?”

“It’s a sign, man.”  Kaner says with a smile that makes him look young and kind of stupid.

Toews shakes his head at the ridiculousness but he grins.  “Like the wind?” 

“Like the fucking wind.”

 

Chapter Text

Leddy is well aware that hockey players tend to end up with personal space issues.  Or really, lack of any concern for personal space or property.  Most of the time, the stuffed shared is mutual and not a problem.

Xbox?  That’s fair game.  Beer in the fridge (which Leddy most definitely will not have until March)?  Also fair game.

Leddy’s kitchen?  Smith uses it more than Leddy does.

Kaner, though, usually sticks to video games and alcohol.  Neither of which are in Leddy’s kitchen and the cabinets Kane is looking through.

“What are you doing?”

Kaner piles things on the table.  “Making cookies.  Set your oven to 350.”

“Why?” Leddy asks but hits the buttons anyways.

“Don’t you like cookies?”

“Is this a prank?”

“Do I look like Sharpie?”  Kane asks and that’s a really stupid question so Leddy doesn’t bother answering.  Kane probably isn’t waiting for an answer anyway, just focusing on measuring out flour.  “Messing with cookies is sacrilegious, dumbass.”

Leddy stares for a long moment and then dials Tazer.  He gets voicemail.  Tazer’s monotone is even worse on the phone and if Tazer ever needed a side job for some ridiculous reason, he would be good at recording the stupid ‘on hold’ messages.  

Kaner is still in his kitchen and he’s using measuring cups.  It’s all very strange.  So Leddy calls Duncs and, by the time Kaner is measuring liquid ingredients, he finally gets a hold of the older dman.

“What’s up?”

“Do you know if…something happened to Kaner since practice?  Like a hit to the head or something?”

“What?”

“He’s baking cookies.”

“Okay?”  The confusion in his voice is far from comforting.

“He’s standing in my kitchen in an apron and, apparently, I had flour or he brought some.  I’m not entirely sure.”

“That’s weird.”  Duncs says.  “Maybe you should call Tazer?”

Leddy grimaces.  If Duncs doesn’t know what is up with Kaner, the next logical person to call would be Sharpy and Sharp has a weird habit of making thinks worse (whether accidental or on purpose) before actually helping.  “I got Toews’s voicemail.”

“Tazer’s at the gym.” Kane yells.

Leddy jumps.  Kane has been quiet while mixing together cookie dough.  Leddy walks around the table to put distance between him and his possibly insane teammate.

“I really don’t know.  Hey, Seabs, if Kaner is making cookies, do think we should—“

Leddy hears rustling sounds and, suddenly, Seabs has the phone.  “What kind of cookies?”

“Is that really important?”  Leddy asks.

“Of course.”  Seabrook sounds serious—too serious—and that practically tips Leddy off that the older dman is bullshitting him.

“Kane, what are you making?” Leddy asks.  He's trying to be patient.  What else can he do?  Kane’s taken over his kitchen and Leddy isn’t too sure that Kane is right in the head.

Kane looks up.  “White chocolate and macadamia.”

Leddy repeats that to Seabrook.

“Lucky!  Though I get snickerdoodles and those are awesome.”  Seabrook pauses and Leddy can hear Duncs’s voice but not what he is saying.  “Wait, you haven’t got cookies yet?”

Leddy frowns and waits because he can hear Duncs again though he still can’t make out the words.

“Wow, sucks to be you.  No!  Asking is a baaad idea.  I’ll explain later.”

Sometimes, Leddy wishes his teammates would come with manuals to help explain their…weirder moments.

“Anyway, kid,” Seabs says.   “Enjoy the cookies and bring me some.”

Seabrook hangs up.  Leddy stares at Kane, trying to figure out what to do.  The oven beeps and Leddy nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Good timing.”  Kane shoves a baking sheet—another thing Leddy isn’t sure whether he owns or if  Kaner brought it with him—loaded with cookie dough towards Leddy.  “Put that in the oven. Twelve minutes.”

 

Chapter Text

Morin isn’t one of the guys Leddy would put on his mental list of Teammates Who Need Constant Babysitting.  Morin is still so jumpy and new that he isn’t likely to pull a prank (like Sharpie) and he doesn’t purposefully mess with anything (like Bolly, Carbomb, Kaner, and…well, half of the team).

Leddy probably wouldn’t have noticed anything immediately if Morin hadn’t been scrubbing the kitchen counter.  Still, Leddy doesn’t make a connection to anything really strange until Morin glances at one of the kitchen walls and Leddy is forced to notice  that his green kitchen walls turned a more pastel green in the time it took for him to pick up pizzas.   

In fact, everything seemed in the kitchen seems to be a few shades paler.

“What the fuck happened to my kitchen?”  Leddy sets the pizza boxes down on the table and crosses his arms.

“Um, Kane came and wanted to see your kitchen…”  Morin says, sounding confused.

“And why do I have flour on my walls?”

Morin laughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his head.  “I kind of tripped and the bag of flour ended up in the air and it wasn’t, um, sealed and…”

Leddy tries not to get angry because this seriously isn’t as bad as the time Leddy lit his own curtains on fire.  “Please tell me Kaner left cookies.”

“Um, he needed more flour.  Or something. So he called Seabrook.”  Morin pauses.  “A half hour ago maybe?”                        

Leddy sighs and texts Seabs, Kane with you?

“Kane seemed kind of out of it. Like really out of it.  He might have been high ,” Morin says, close to nervously babbling.  “And he was really insistent on needing flour.”

Leddy laughs.  Kaner has a one-track mind when he’s in a baking mood.  Leddy has learned to just go along with strange behavior; it’s easier to ignore the eccentricity rather than contemplate his teammate’s sanity. “That’s how he gets when he makes cookies.”

“What? Wait, why ?”

He doesn’t answer Morin.  Understanding Kaner’s weird baking moods is beyond Leddy but who--besides the team nutritionists--is going to complain about cookies?

Leddy’s phone beeps.   Yep :)

“Grab the pizzas.  We’re heading over to Seabs’.”

“What about the flour?”

Leddy pauses, hand on his keys.  “Guess what you are doing tomorrow morning.”

 

Chapter Text

“Why are you here?”

“Shut up.”  Kaner says, without really any heat.  Or inflection at all.  It’s strange and Toews really doesn’t feel up to dealing with Kaner’s issues.  He shouldn’t have to deal with that when the docs don’t think he’s even up for playing tonight, when he doesn’t feel clear enough to argue his way into playing.

“Shouldn’t you be taking your nap?”

Kaner rolls his eyes and heads to the kitchen.

Toews has a feeling were this is going and follows, frowning.  Breaking routines isn’t something they need right now.  “Pregame nap.”  Toews says, in case Kaner has somehow forgotten that they…Kaner has a game tonight.

“Shut up.”  Kaner pretty much slams a glass bowl on the counter. 

Toews flinches.  He’s surprised the bowl didn’t break.

Kaner quickly grabs the dry ingredients (which Toews keeps all that stuff in one cabinet, next to the cookie sheets and measuring cups) and turns towards the fridge.

“You don’t bake on game days.”  Reminding Kaner of his own routines is ridiculous.  Kaner, despite all of the evidence to the contrary, generally is able to take care of himself.  But Toews just wants everything to be normal, like their team isn’t off and Toews isn’t stuck just watching them. 

“Really.”  Kaner says, not looking at Toews.  Kaner glares at the skim milk—despite Kaner’s frequent protests, skim milk instead of full fat or whatever the fuck Kaner uses does not mess up the cookies—before setting it on the counter with a carton of eggs.

Kaner has all of the ingredients on the counter but he stops for a moment to stare at Toews.  He looks a bit lost, like he’s waiting for Toews to say something.

Toews raises an eyebrow.  He doesn’t have any inspirational words for making cookies.

Kaner sighs, sounding as frustrated as Toews feels these days, and  grabs the flour. 

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Toews doesn’t eat any of the cookies and he’s pretty sure that’s why Kaner seemed pissed off when he left for the UC.  It’s not like Toews asked for the cookies or anything, so Kaner is being stupid.

Toews turns on the game because he’ll just imagine them losing 9-0 or something.

Not that the first period is going well.

Toews throws the Kaner’s cookie tin at the wall during the Blue’s third goal (and that dent will be fun to explain if he doesn’t get it fixed before his mom visits again).  He spends a lot of time thinking about saying fuck it all to medical advice and grabbing a beer or six but he doesn’t exactly feel sober in the first place so he doubts a round of alcohol will drown out this game.

But the game gets better.  Somehow. 

Toews gets up to retrieve the tin after Kane’s hit on Backes.  He’s pretty certain that is deserving of a celebratory cookie.  And then Stalberg gets a goal, so another cookie.

He spaces a bit during the intermission and he doesn’t realize he’s still awake until he hears Chelsea Dagger and sees replays of Seabs’s goals.  Toews eats another cookie and forces himself to stay aware for the rest of the game.

Watching OT sucks and Toews is getting pissed at himself for not being there with the guys.  Shootouts aren’t fun to watch either but at least right off the bat Kaner scores—worth two cookies—and Toews wishes he could go next and seal the win.

Crow is the one who makes sure they win.  Toews smiles, wanting to be part of the mob hugging them, wanting to hug all of the guys.