Author's Note: This is set in an AU where I guess Turbo is redeemed(?). This chapter doesn't have any actual baking in it, but the next chapter is nearly done and I'll be safe and say it'll be up by the end of the week(next Saturday or Sunday). This is just an attempt at some seeing what would happen if these two had to bake together.
Vanellope crept down the hallway, slowly putting one shiny black-clad foot in front of the other. She stretched one foot as far in front of her as she could while still keeping her balance, her arms held up so her hands were balled up just below her chest, her opposite foot's toes barely touching the ground. The candy-haired racer snickered as she came upon a door. Stopping, she leaned the right side of her head against the door, her ear pressed up against it. Grinning when she didn't hear the tell-tale signs of someone getting ready for the day, she took a step back and a deep breath before glitching through to the other side of the door.
The room was rather small, but looked bigger due to the scant amount of items in it. The room's only furnishings were a wardrobe, a nightstand, and a small bed on which a figure slept. Vanellope smirked and crept up to the edge of the bed on which the white and red clad racer was curled up on. His legs and arms were tucked close to his body as if seeking warmth.
Suddenly, the racer's breath hitched and one of his legs kicked out of its own accord. Vanellope heard him mumble something incoherent, though she thought she heard a swift 'turbotastic' at the end, before the racer turned over onto his back. His face scrunched up slightly as he stretched his legs out and brought his hands to his slightly extended belly, his right hand weakly clawing at his jumpsuit. He stilled again, his brows furrowing and lips tightening into a frown before his face took on a more peaceful expression.
Not for long, thought Vanellope as she grinned devilishly before making her way to the foot of the bed, jumping onto the wooden frame and gazing down at her not so innocent victim, her hands on her hips.
With a strange high pitched yelp and a shrill, nasally cry of, "Look out, Turbutt!" she threw herself off the bed frame and landed on Turbo's stomach.
The racer's large yellow eyes snapped open before he gave a comic yelp/scream and thrust his body backwards, sending Vanellope off balance from her seat on his rounded stomach as he slammed the back of his head against the headboard.
Frantically looking around, Turbo's bleary eyes slowly adjusted as the brightly coloured blobs around him started taking form. He heard laughter and looked down. Seated in between his splayed legs was a guffawing girl who was laying on her back and clutching her stomach as she laughed. A corner of his mouth turned down in a frown and he bared his yellowed teeth as he growled.
"Now that's what I call a wake-up call," Vanellope said, lifting a hand to wipe away a tear. Her eyes widened as she saw the racer prepare to pounce and she only managed to evade his grey toned hands by glitching a few inches away from his fingers.
Now standing in the middle of the room, Vanellope bent her knees and put her arms out on either side of her in preparation to flee. Grinning, she took in the sight of the enraged racer. He was now crouched on top of the bed, his arms in front of him with his elbows bent, his fingers curled as if ready to grasp something. The toothy grin on his face dispelled any thoughts of him being truly angry with the little ruler.
With a small growl, Turbo thrust himself off the bed, landing on his feet. Vanellope gave a small squeal and scrambled for the door, the other racer right on her heels. Just inches away from the door, she glitched through to the other side. She heard a thump and a grunt and the door shook as the person on the other side ran into it before the handle wriggled and turned. The door swung open to reveal a sorely angry Turbo, his nose and the lower part of his face tinged slightly pink from where it had struck the door.
After taking a moment to laugh loudly at the other racer, Vanellope dashed down the hallway, running in zigzags, giving Turbo a chance to catch up. The red and white clad racer may have been fast on the track, but he was horrible when it came to running. He became tired rather quickly and often had to stop and catch his breath.
"Come here ya' little cavity!" came a voice from behind her. "I'll teach you how to wake thomeone up!" His lisp was coming out, Vanellope noted. It was a sure sign he was at least a little mad.
Turning her head to look behind her, Vanellope's breath hitched in a feeling of exhilarating fear at his proximity. She giggled and gave a small hop, but her feet somehow tripped over each other. The scream of confusion and alarm that came from her throat was cut off as her belly hit the smooth ground.
She pressed the palms of her hands against the ground in an attempt to push herself up. A strong hand wrapped around her ankle and dragged her backwards, her jacket and under shirt being pushed into a bunch at her chest and her now bare belly sliding across the cold fruit candy tile. An exited half laugh half scream escaped her as she twisted in the older racer's grasp. She managed to turn over unto her back and yank her jacket and undershirt back to their proper place. She began to kick her captive leg in an attempt to free it, but her adversary was now straddling her, pinning her legs under his weight and grabbing her wrists. She looked up and saw him grinning, flashing his large yellow teeth at her in a smug grin.
"Ha, ha," he said with a grin, his face now very close to hers. "I win. I always win."
Vanellope frowned and rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his last comment.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Now let me up Tubbo! Great mother of monkey milk, what have you been eating?" Vanellope grunted as Turbo shifted his weight slightly.
Turbo gave a sarcastic laugh and scoffed, "Let me not mention the fact that we are in a world literally made out of fatty sweets. It's not my fault that I'm not programmed to not put on fat like you sugar-coated demons. But that's beside the point, I'm not-" He cut off as the solid body below him suddenly dematerialized. A weight slammed into his back and he fell forward so that he was lying flat on his stomach. He grunted and twisted his head to look behind him. Vanellope was standing on his back, the treads on her shoes digging into his spine. She crossed her arms and grinned smugly, tilting her head so that her chin was pushed out more in a self-satisfied gesture.
She leaned down and said, "Now who's the winner?" Her eyes were slightly lidded as she gazed down at his scowling and quickly reddening face. He suddenly jerked his body up and to the side and Vanellope quickly lost her balance and fell onto her back beside the older racer. He pulled himself to his feet, adjusted his sleeves and smiled as Vanellope stood up.
"So, kid, what was with the rude awakening?" the racer asked, narcissistically straightening his jump suit. His eyes were averted from the child in front of him.
"I want to bake cookies today," the little president said.
"Soooooo...? Go right ahead. No one's stopping you, you know," Turbo said with a dismissive flourish of his hand.
"Well, I'm not going to do it by myself, a-doi!" Vanellope raised an eyebrow.
Turbo's large yellow eyes narrowed and he snapped his heels together and put his slightly curled fists on his hips as he stared down at the only slightly shorter girl.
Frowning, Turbo hesitantly asked, "Please don't tell me...you're thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"Oh ho ho," Vanellope laughed and wriggled her finger at the other racer, "But I am!" She giggled at Turbo's disgruntled face. "You, mister grumpy pants himself, are going to bake cookies with me." She gave a self-satisfied grin.
Turbo blinked slowly. "Yeah, that's going to happen," he said, flourishing his hand in front of his face and giving a short, demented giggle. Realizing what he had just done, the smile on his face disappeared and he coughed into his hand, averting his eyes.
Ignoring the other racer's actions, Vanellope smiled mischievously, sighed dramatically and said, "Oh, well, if you can't do it then-"
Eyes widening, Turbo's arms broke away from their crossed position on his chest as he whirled on the seemingly nonchalant president. Vanellope's knowing expression didn't leave her face even as the older racer came only inches away from her.
"Can't?" he said with a short laugh that held no humour in it. "Who said anything about can't?" he went on as Vanellope's smirk grew. "I'll have you know, I am a wonderful baker. I'm the greatest baker ever!" As he finished, he crossed his arms over his chest and put his heels together. "Hmmpf." He swiftly nodded his head once.
"Prove it," Vanellope taunted, poking at his chest with her index finger.
The hesitance in Turbo's expression was so brief, one would think it was never there in the first place. Reaching up to nervously adjust his helmet, the racers grey hands were met with hair. For the first time that morning he realized he wasn't wearing his iconic helmet. Suddenly feeling naked and vulnerable, Turbo cleared his throat and subconsciously took a step back.
"Well, I'll just go get properly dressed and be right down," he said, the tone in his voice accepting the challenge before him.
He whipped around and headed back to the room he had come from, his walk only speaking of over confidence until he was sure Vanellope couldn't see him anymore.