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"Hey, Gav!" Bighead kicked the door closed behind him, dragging several grocery bags and a Big Gulp through Gavin's foyer. "So, full disclosure – I got the stuff for the salad, but they were also having a sale on gummy worms and Sour Patch Kids, so I may or may not owe you like fifteen bucks for candy, if that's cool. I mean, I don't have it on me now, but I'll totally hit you back sometime." Bighead nudged open the kitchen door and immediately stopped and stared. "Um… Gavin?"
Gavin was slumped over the marble countertop, head in his hands. Bighead could hear small sniffles. The normally immaculate kitchen was an absolute disaster, coated in a layer of flour and sugar. Egg shells littered the counters like debris. Several glass bowls had bright pink goo of varying viscosity coating the insides of them. One of the glass bowls, sitting directly in front of Gavin, was filled with a pink lump. "Uh. What happened in here?" Bighead asked, trying to keep his voice as supportively neutral as possible.
Gavin looked up. His eyes were red and he looked absolutely miserable. "I tried to cook," he croaked. "I was trying to make you cookies. For your birthday."
Bighead glanced around. "Really? You're making me cookies?"
"I mean, I'm trying to," Gavin sniffed, glaring at the bowl in front of him. "I swear, I don't understand what's so difficult about this. I've already gone through five batches of dough."
Bighead's lips twitched. "Are you serious?"
Gavin just stared daggers into the bowl.
"Okay. This is… oh man." Bighead set his bags down and walked over to the counter. "It's okay. We can work with this. What's the recipe you used?"
"I… didn't use one."
Bighead just stared.
"What?" Gavin snapped defensively. "It's just cookies! How hard could that be?"
Bighead glanced around the kitchen. "I mean, no offense, but… it looks like it was pretty hard."
"Well then what should I do?"
"Look up a recipe, dude. You have one of the most advanced phones on the market. That's basically what it's for." When Gavin crossed his arms obstinately, Bighead sighed. "Fine, I'll look one up."
Bighead started pulling out measuring cups, sugar, and flour, but Gavin pulled them out of his hands. "Nel, this is for your birthday! You can't make them yourself!"
Bighead sighed. He couldn't decide if it was more cute or irritating, but he put up his hands. "Fine. Just please follow the recipe?"
"Okay, I will. Fine. Now, out." Gavin shooed him out of the kitchen.
That lasted for about fifteen minutes.
Gavin was back on the verge of tears when Bighead wandered back in for some gummy worms. "What's wrong?"
"This fucking… bullshit fuck of dough isn't fucking coming together!" The pink mixture looked ragged. Gavin's fingers were stained with red food coloring. "I don't want to fucking throw another fucking batch of these fucking bullshit cookies away!"
Bighead walked over and looked into the bowl, then glanced at the recipe. "Gav. Did you put in the butter while it was still cold?"
"Yes. Why?"
"The dough is fine. Just let it warm up for a minute."
Gavin frowned. "What?"
Bighead tried not to smirk. "Yeah, man. If the butter is too cold, it can make it hard to mix all the dry ingredients in. Just let it soften up and it'll be fine."
Gavin nodded vaguely. "Oh, okay. Great." He gave Bighead a shove. "Now get out."
For the next half hour, Bighead fielded several questions from the next room. "What if I don't have vanilla extract?"
"Just use maple syrup!"
"I'm not sure if the oven is working, it hasn't beeped yet."
"Just give it a minute, Gavin! Be patient!"
"Theoretically, if I broke my rolling pin in frustration, would a wine bottle be a viable substitute?"
"You do what you gotta do, man!"
After a while, Gavin left the kitchen, triumphant. "Take a look at these!" he said proudly, shoving a plate of cookies under Bighead's nose. They were lumpily heart-shaped.
"Why do they look like that?"
"I… don't have any cookie cutters." Gavin looked embarrassed. "Just eat one of the damn cookies, will you?"
Bighead took a bite. They were astoundingly sweet and doughy, with tiny, unbroken clumps of flour. With difficulty, Bighead swallowed. "Wow."
"Do you like them?" Gavin was wringing his hands, watching him expectantly.
Bighead grinned, stood up, and gave Gavin a peck on the lips. The smile he gave him was as heartfelt as he'd ever given. "They're perfect," he said, and took another bite.