This is for a friend of mine who wanted more Apollo-Kristoph fluff along the lines of my other story xD

So as you can see, in here Apollo is already adopted by Kristoph and have been living with him for a number of years - which is what happened in the other fic. Anyway, all that isn't important~ This is for you, Jamie! *_*

Oh yeah, and since it's just a doodle sorta thing, I didn't bother to spellcheck/grammatise it properly so yeah...Put on your bad English goggles pweeze.

Apollo tapped his finger thoughtfully on his lower lip, and scratched his head with a pencil. Trailing it down the calender, he frowned. What day was today again...? He had worked so hard these past few days on his school work and projects or whatever it was that the professors had seen fit to throw at him – to make it pass the deadline safely - that he had forgotten what day it was at all. Now, he scratched the calender with his pencil as he tried to pinpoint exactly what day it was, trailing it right down to...

February 14!

He squealed and did a happy dance from foot to foot, pausing only to sneak a suspicious glare at the furniture to see if anyone's hiding behind a chair to snap a picture of him. Vongole crawled out from under the bed and snapped at his ankles irritably.

Now, the next logical thing was naturally - he thought as he circled the date again and again with the pencil - to wake his mentor up – and this he accomplished by sneaking into his room and throwing himself onto Kristoph's bed and bouncing off it.

"Come on, Kristoph! You'll never guess what day is today!" He cheered.

"Doomsday?" Came the muffled answer. Kristoph showed no signs of waking up, only burying his head deeper into his mountain of satin pillows.

"Nah. Why would I wake you up for doomsday? I'll go get a beer myself."

"Objection...And stuff." He mumbled. "You're underag..."

"Come on! Wake up!"

"No."

"Yes!"

The blanket went up, and Kristoph went underneath it. "Go away, Apollo. I need more sleep if my skin is going to be beautiful."

"No you don't," Apollo grumbled out, exasperated. "Get up!"

Kristoph stared at Apollo.

"Well. I'm up."

"Yes, you are."

"So, what do you suggest we do?" He crossed his arms and glared at Apollo, a foot tapping impatiently as Apollo fidgeted all over. "I have a lot of work to do – and incidentally, I don't remember saying that Valentine's a day off."

Apollo rolled his eyes at him. "I already e-mailed all your colleagues and associates to tell them Valentine's Day is a holiday."

"WH- Apollo!" He hissed. The glare hitched up a notch, and the foot tapped furiously. "You can't do that! I have the Bilge case on the hinge – then there's the Wincox case, and--"

"Kristoph – the courthouse isn't even opened today."

"But still-" Kristoph insisted through gritted teeth. "It could have well been a productive day – I could have managed to wring a confession out of someone else or--"

"Jeez. You're really a workaholic, aren't you?"

"Well. I prefer the term 'hard-working' myself."

Apollo snickered. "Yeah, and don't you think the time would be better spent with your girl for valentine?"

Kristoph cleared his throat loudly, tugging at his shirt collar even though no ribbon was stringed around it yet. "You know, I suddenly have this itch for breakfast..."

"Why?" Apollo peered at him quizzically. "You were still fine up until --" All of a sudden, his eyes widened. "Kristoph - you don't have one, do you?"

Kristoph started choking on air.

The bag of groceries landed on the table with a proverbial twang, and Kristoph poked it with two hesitant finger. Apollo grinned at him, still hopping from one jubilant foot to another jubilant foot for some reason – though Kristoph had absolutely zero idea why anyone would be happy about one of the most commercialized days of the year. This was a day for young couples to cash in on, and for entrepreneurs to earn from – and he certainly wasn't going to play a part in that.

"I don't see how a tub of flour is going to improve my chances of magically having a girlfriend." He muttered darkly.

"It's not here to help you make a girlfriend – though we can always try for a chocolate one." Apollo carried his own two bags of groceries and stuffed them onto the kitchen counter.

"And literally 'bite her head off'? You have a mean streak in you, Apollo."

Apollo ignored the jab. "What we are going to do – is celebrate Valentine's!" He announced.

"No, we're not going to celebrate Valentine's – Christmas was enough, thank you very much. I ate all the turkey I could possibly need to sustain me for another year."

"There aren't any turkey for Valentine's."

"Regardless – exactly what are we doing with all that flour?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Having exhausted all grocery-related prodding, he turned around and grinned at Kristoph. "We're going to bake stuff – to celebrate!"

"Apollo..." Kristoph looked at him stonily. "It might escape your notice that I have no one to celebrate it with – nor do you, come to think of it."

"We can always celebrate, even if it's only the two of us," Apollo pointed out.

"Um. Valentine's Day. Is. A day for lovers. You. Realize that, don't you?" He snapped out in broken bits.

"Yeah..." He trailed off slowly, tapping a finger against his forehead thoughtfully. "But there's nothing stopping us from enjoying it now, is there? It is a festival for 'love' after all, even if it's mostly taken as the uh, couple kind."

Kristoph heaved a heavy sigh. "You're going to make me celebrate it, no matter what, aren't you?"

Apollo grinned.

"That's right."

"Well." He gestured at the impending mountain of groceries. "Lead the way."

"Apollo?"

"Hmm?"

"What's 'all-purpose' flour?"

Apollo looked over from the eggs he had been beating with the whisk.

"Um. I think it means like 'you can use any kind of flour'?"

Kristoph raised the recipe above his head and frowned at it - a dusty one he managed to scrounge out of his bookshelf, hidden behind layers after layers of dust and abandoned books.

"Are you sure that's what it means?"

"Pretty," Apollo coughed modestly. "I'll have you know I'm quite good at baking."

"Really," Kristoph mumbled, unamused. "Well then, which kind are we using? You bought a dozen here."

"Well, I like buckwheat. They make good Udon."

"...Are you sure buckwheat can be made into cake...?"

"It's flour, isn't it?" Apollo grumbled. "If it's white powder, I don't see how it makes any difference."

"Okay..." Kristoph tipped the bag of flour at the side of the bowl. "If you say so..."

"Apollo?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this...Is this what cake is suppose to do?"

Apollo looked over for the first time in five minutes and leaped backwards.

"Gyah!"

"Exactly my point." Kristoph stuck a finger into the congealed white, starchy mess in the baking mold and fingered it, rubbing it with two fingers. It felt like cement, or the gruel people used to plaster legs. "I don't think cake is suppose to look like this, Apollo."

"Well..." The boy looked hesitantly at the mold. "It'll be uh...Fine once we bake it?"

Kristoph narrowed his eyes at the quivering antennas. "You don't sound very sure about it."

He coughed. "It'll be fine, trust me. Stick it in an oven, and press 'go'."

"It says here you're suppose to preheat the oven to 350 degrees."

Apollo blinked. "Do we have a thermometer with that kind of temperature?"

Now it was Kristoph's turn to blink. "We only have the fever kind so um...What temperature do you go up to when you have a fever?"

"Um...A hundred and fifty degrees I think."

"Oh." He considered the question of a suitable thermometer solemnly. "I guess we won't be able to measure the temperature then." He announced at last, almost sadly.

"Ah, pish. Don't worry about that." Apollo pulled open the oven, and for all practical purposes threw the cake in. Then he pressed the red button, the one with 'High' written on it. A question mark popped up somewhere on the panel.

"I think you're suppose to press something else."

"Well, don't ask me – you bought the oven. Don't you know how to use it?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I liked the colour."

Apollo rolled his eyes and randomly jabbed a few buttons. A moment later, the machine whirled into action with a loud whoosh whoosh sound.

"Phew," Kristoph dabbed at his brow, which have acquired a thin sheen of sweat. "Are we done now?"

"No way. It's the cookies next!"

An hour later, Kristoph was irritable – sleeves rolled up and grimace on his face. At least the process of making the cookies seemed a little less troublesome than the cake – though he still wasn't quite sure why he couldn't just go out and buy Apollo a large box instead of making it himself.

Apollo peered over his shoulders at the tiny cutouts he was making.

"What shape are you making?"

Kristoph grunted.

"That doesn't look like a heart shape."

Grunt.

"It's Valentine's Day Kris, make something romantic!"

Grunt.

"Kristoph?"

Grunt.

"Mr. Gavin?"

Oh for god's-- Kristoph took one of the soft flour cutouts and pressed it into a recognizable face-shape. He pinched it until there were two antennas on the cookie's head, and placed it back on the chopping board. Then he raised a fork, and jabbed it right into the middle of the cookie, splitting it into two.

Apollo shrunk backwards.

"Point taken," He squeaked out.

By eight o'clock – Kristoph was convinced that somewhere up there, there was a very bearded man who hated his guts. Five hours spent meandering around the kitchen, then three trying to clean the place up. As if it wasn't enough of a chore, Apollo had to get the place into a mess by carelessly tripping over buckets every other minute. He smiled a little at the thought as he leaned back against his armchair and sighed contentedly. Bliss in an armchair....

"Um, Kristoph – I think you better look at this."

...Until Justice comes calling. He opened his eyes wide – half expecting something terrible to happen. He racked his brains for something he overlooked – spots on the kitchen table? Flour on the fridge? What? WHAT?

"Uh Kristoph? The cake."

Oh, the cake. Yeah, the cake. The one's that's been in the oven since--

"Ach!"

He scrambled up from the chair and dashed towards the kitchen – where Apollo was already prodding a cake cautiously with a chopstick. A black, burnt cake.

"Um, yeah..." Apollo messed up his hair sheepishly. "I don't think we were suppose to set the temperature to high."

Kristoph took the chopstick from Apollo and prodded the cake with it. The places where he poked it immediately formed a hole – and unlike normal cakes, did not come back up. It just sort of...Sank?

"It would seem so," He said at last. A moment of awkward silence reigned in the room.

"I ah..." He glanced over at his apprentice, who was rubbing his head rapidly, self-conscious. "I'm so sorry Kristoph."

"About what?"

"I mean – the way things turned out. I wasted your entire day worth of time and look how it turned out."

Kristoph sighed, leaned over and ruffled Apollo's hair. "Don't worry about it – holidays are meant to be enjoyed, and I would say today was pretty fun....However the cake turned out."

They both swung back and stared at the burnt cake. Both sighed.

"What a bummer," Apollo mumbled.

"Well, let's check on our cookies, shall we?"

"Oh yeah! I forgot about that." Kristoph stood and checked on the cookies, which were slowly being baked in the microwave above the cabinet. They looked pretty alright, and five minutes later – they removed the tray from the microwave.

Apollo sniffed the cookies. "Hey, they smell pretty nice!"

"You sound surprised," Kristoph commented dryly. Apollo grinned.

"I wasn't expecting them to turn out well – considering who's making it."

"Who, you?"

"No, you!"

They laughed, and Apollo pulled up one cookie and bit into it, munching thoughtfully.

"Well, how does it taste?"

"It's actually-- munch munch munch – pretty good!"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Apollo." Kristoph admonished, but he took a cookie nonetheless, and chewed on it.

"Hmm...Well, I certainly never – munch munch munch – expected it to turn out that well."

Apollo raised both hands into the air and whopped. "With the power of love!"

Kristoph laughed, then Apollo pointed at a particular cookie on the tray. "Oh look, it's the Apollo-shaped one."

"Split right into two too," Kristoph smiled ruefully. He had tried to mold it back together, but when it baked it came apart again.

"Hey there's enough of me to go around," Apollo quipped, and handed half of it to Kristoph. He took the other.

Kristoph rolled his eyes. "Modest, aren't you?"

"I learned it from you," He shot back.

Both munched thoughtfully. Half the tray was gone in a matter of minutes, and Kristoph looked up at the clock. Nine. Right on cue, Apollo's stomach started growling like clockwork.

"I'm kind of hungry." Apollo complained. "I haven't had lunch. Why am I being underfed?"

"You're the one who insisted we bake."

"You're the one who took so long."

"I-- Forget it." Kristoph removed the remaining cookies and put them into a jar, sealing them. After he placed it on the cabinet (One tall enough to make sure Apollo won't be reaching it easily) he turned around and dusted his hands.

"Well, we're done – so let's clean up and go have dinner."

"Chinese takeout?" Apollo asked hopefully.

"German food." Kristoph shot back.

"No! I rather starve and die!"

Kristoph rolled his eyes. "I was thinking of going and getting a beer actually."

An eyebrow went up. "I thought I was underage?"

Kristoph sling and arm around Apollo. "Trust me, my boy – you're first rate in everything."

Apollo blushed modestly.

"...Especially when it comes to baking disgusting stuff."

"Hey! That was uncalled for! You made them too!" He protested.

Kristoph laughed, and shortly afterward, Apollo did too. They switched off the lights, and the whole place went dark – and as their footsteps silently pattered off into the distance for that beer Kristoph promised, the only thing that could still be heard was their laughter.

Drabble drabble drabble LOL

Ok ok, back to my long-faced fics =X