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BatJokes Advent Calendar 2016

Chapter Text

“You know, Bats, I don’t think the recipe mentions cinnamon anywhere.” Bruce glanced up from the bowl of cookie mixture that he was currently whisking, a light coating of flour covering his left cheek. He was so adorable when he was like this, and Joker couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face. Bruce merely sighed, watching as the whisk sank into the bowl. He and Joker weren't cut out for this whole “cooking” business.

Shrugging his shoulders, Bruce turned back to the bowl, muttering “A little cinnamon never hurt anybody.” Joker snorted, leaning against the kitchen counter as he scrolled through the cooking recipe on his phone. Bruce continued whisking the cookie mix, perhaps a bit too hard. Unbaked cookie dough began to fly out of the bowl, and the billionaire had to focus on not breaking the bowl or the whisk by accident. Bruce was so distracted by his own baking problems that he almost missed the scent of something burning. “Joker,” Bruce murmured, his face contorting in confusion. “Something's burning, isn't it?”

Jokers gaze flew up from his phone, his expression clearly one of surprise. “Aw, shit,” the clown muttered as he tossed his phone haphazardly onto the marble counter. Grabbing a pair of oven mitts, Joker rushed at the oven, a string of curses flying from his red lips. Smoke was beginning to leak out from behind the oven door, and when Joker grabbed the handle and yanked the stainless steel door down, a plume of smoke escaped from the oven. Joker began coughing, waving his arms around in the hopes that the smoke would dissipate, and Bruce dropped the bowl, rushing over to try and help his boyfriend. The bowl crashed against another bowl filled with egg yolks, causing a chain reaction that ended with the eggs yolks ending up on the floor and nearly two-thirds of a bag of flour spilling into the bowl of half-mixed cookie dough.

The smoke from the oven finally began to dissipate, but a few tendrils of the smoke curled up into the ceiling, setting off the fire alarm, which in turn set off the ceiling's built-in sprinkler system. Water began to rain down on the clown and the billionaire. Joker leaned over to glance into the oven, his hair sopping wet by then. The clown was greeted by a pan of chocolate chip cookies so thoroughly burnt that they were nearly solid chunks of charcoal. Scowling, the clown stood back up, shooting Bruce a glare for the record books. “Next time,” Joker proclaimed, slicking his damp green hair back. "Why don't we let good ol' Alfred do all of the cooking?"