I do not own Gravity Falls.

Prompt: Baking

Coercion By Icing

Ford wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten roped into baking Christmas cookies. But here he was, standing in the small kitchen with his niece, a glitter-covered apron wrapped around his waist.

"What are we making?" he asked, squinting at the food-stained recipe card in his hand. "Gingerbread?"

Mabel smiled. "No, that's later! Right now we're making sugar cookies."

"Right."

Really, how hard could baking be? All the ingredients were listed neatly and with measurements, and the directions were clearly laid out. It was almost like a science experiment, and science was his expertise.

Quickly into the baking process he realized that his science skills didn't necessarily apply to this delicate art Mabel was so good at.

He first confused sugar with flour, and then accidently spilled the baking powder to the floor. He got shells into the mixture when he cracked the egg and was forced to dig them out. But Mabel wasn't bothered by his continuous mistakes, cheerfully correcting him when she needed to and asking him to stir the ingredients together.

"Christmas tree or snowman?" she asked after the dough was ready, holding out the metal cookie cutters.

"Christmas tree," he decided, wiping his hands on his apron and growing mildly amused when glitter smeared across his callous palms.

Together they cut shapes into the dough and arranged them onto the cookie sheet. Ford slipped them into the already-heated oven and set the timer. "There."

"When they're done and cooled, we can do the super fun part," said Mabel happily, pointing towards the almost-endless row of Christmas-themed sprinkles and tubes of red, green and vanilla icing she had arranged onto the counter.

"I think I'll let you take care of that," replied Ford. He started to take off his apron, but a small hand clamped around his wrist, making him pause.

"We're not done yet!" she insisted. "You have to decorate with me!"

Ford sighed as she cast her puppy-dog stare on him. "You're the one who's talented at this stuff, Mabel," he reasoned. "I'll only mess them up."

"That's okay," she insisted. "They don't have to be perfect. So long as you're having fun doing it." She faltered. "Are you having fun?"

"Of course I am," he assured, setting a hand on the girl's shoulder. He hadn't done Christmas in a long time, and it filled him with a warm, almost overwhelming feeling to be able to spend his first Christmas in over forty years with his family. He'd almost forgotten the small joys of the holiday season, and Mabel's enthusiasm for the holiday was infectious. "But I really think it would be best if you decorated these cookies. They'll turn out much better than if I did them."

The thirteen-year-old girl released his hand and pointed a stern finger at him. "You made a commitment!"

Ford managed to resist the urge to laugh. He crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at the girl. "Funny thing about that. I don't recall ever actually saying I would help you bake cookies."

An innocent expression crossed her face. "Of course you did. You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

"Uh-huh," he said in amusement. "That aside, I believe my baking assistance is no longer needed."

Eyes narrowing, Mabel marched over and grabbed one of the tubes of icing. "You will decorate with me," she said firmly, aiming the tube at her great-uncle.

"Mabel-"

"Say it!"

"I've played this game before," said Ford casually, reaching over and grabbing the bag of flour. "Try me."

In the span of five minutes, the relatively neat kitchen dissolved into a mess, with flour coating the floor and counters and icing splattered across the walls. Mabel, her brunette hair now completely white, lay sprawled across the chest of Ford, who was covered in red and green icing.

"I win!" she declared, letting out a short cough as flour caught in her throat. "You have to decorate with me." She paused and glanced around the kitchen. "And you have to clean with me."

Chuckling, Ford reached up and tussled her hair affectionately. "Guess I lost this one. You really did pick up some tricks from Stanley, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright." Ford stood up with a grunt, bringing Mabel with him and balancing her on his hip. "Let's clean ourselves up and then work on this disaster zone."

"Okay. Grunkle Ford?"

"Yeah?"

Mabel looped her arms around his neck and nestled her head onto his shoulder. "Thanks for helping me with the Christmas cookies."

"My pleasure, kid," said Ford with a soft smile. "My pleasure."