Sarah/patientalien/thishereanakinguy gave me the prompt, "Cookies" with Zeb and Ezra for peekbelowthesurface's Tumblr drabble meme (prompt #20). It's also almost Mother's Day, and Girl Scout cookie season is winding down in these parts, so you do the math.
Thin Mints, Shortbread, and Caramel de Lites, Oh My!
Mother's Day is one of those unofficial holidays across the galaxy that most people nonetheless seem to know about, for better or for worse. For Ezra Bridger, the potential celebration is mostly a reminder of the family he's lost, but as the first commemoration of mothers commences in the time since he joined up with Ghost crew, he finds, more than anything, that he's just happy to no longer be alone.
The idea comes in the moments before drifting off to sleep in his shared chambers with Zeb. It's during these times that the Lasat often fields questions Ezra is too shy or embarrassed to broach to other members of the crew, about a recent mission or meanings of words or impressions of some of the squirrelier beings they've encountered. Zeb is often good-natured enough about it, particularly when Ezra manages to catch him in the time just before slumber, and thus, he's as receptive as the boy could hope when the topic arises: "We should do something for Hera for Mother's Day."
"Hmmm." Ezra can hear Zeb shifting in the dark, a placeholder for speech while he mulls this latest development over in his mind. "Like what?" he finally asks, and Ezra rests his cheek on his chin in contemplation.
"I dunno. Is there anything she really likes that she doesn't get to have often?"
"Yeah," Zeb snorts, "A crew that follows her orders." He chortles quietly at his own joke for a bit, and then seems to sober again. "She likes cookies," he tells Ezra. "Used to be a Girl Guide herself, I think. She'd buy a box or two whenever we touched down somewhere they had an encampment set up."
Ezra considers this. "There's no Guides on Lothal these days," he murmurs. "I guess we could make some cookies ourselves?"
Zeb snickers outright. "You wanna dance around the kitchen in an apron, making frilly little sweets for everybody?"
"You cook, too," Ezra reminds him, somewhat annoyed by Zeb's frequent sidebars, now. "I even heard you singing to your breakfast the other day, something about a 'Waffle Song' -"
"Okay, okay, so cookies it is," Zeb concedes grumpily. "What do we need?"
Ezra smiles. "I just need you to help me requisition a few supplies here and there."
"What? Why am I on recon duty?!"
"Do you know how to cook anything besides frozen waffles?"
Zeb grumbles. "Make a list."
The cookies are ... interesting, in sight and smell, which seems to make everyone reluctant to verify their taste. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you used some of my neon spray paint to decorate with," Sabine offers, and Ezra shifts the serving tray somewhat to the right.
"You know, it's bad for you to eat too much refined sugar," Kanan blanches, although he looks chagrined when this makes Ezra's and Zeb's faces fall in comical unison.
"C'mon," Ezra wheedles. "We made them with Hera in mind, but they're for the entire crew to share. Please?" Behind him, Zeb sniffles for dramatic effect, and even Chopper, whom Zeb ended up delegating most of the requisitioning of supplies to, makes a chiding noise. Cornered, and with Hera watching with kind, bemused eyes, Kanan takes a bite with the barest hope for survival. At last, he swallows. "I guess it's not any worse than that vitamin paste we all had to ration a while back," he finally says.
"They're not that bad!" Zeb exclaims unhappily.
Ezra nods, bright-eyed. "We even threw out the first batch after some of Zeb's fur got in the dough."
For the next several minutes, Kanan's audible puking in the ship's refresher provides the background noise for what ends up being a fairly uncontrollable giggle fit, Hera's own Mother's Day gift to them all. "The vitamin paste wasn't nearly as pink," she's saying as Kanan finally ventures from his puke prison, and then back he goes again, looking positively green.