On her birthday, Erina woke up to the sensation of something tickling her face. She opened her eyes slowly and saw her husband sprinkling both her and the bed with the petals of pink carnations.

When Souma saw her awake, he kissed her forehead. "Happy birthday, Erina."

"You're ridiculous, you know," she said, though she knew that a light blush was already dusting her cheeks. "Exactly who is going to vacuum all of this up later?"

Souma shot her a long look. "Have you ever even touched the vacuum before?"

"O-of course! What are you talking about?"

"So where is it now?" he asked, smirking.

She paused for a moment. Where did he keep that thing, anyway? "Well it's...it has to be in the...rather—"

"Pops, stop antagonizing ma," Raiden said as he came in, holding a tray loaded with breakfast. "It's her birthday."

Souma ruffled their son's hair. "What does that matter when you take her side every day of the year?"

A broad grin bloomed on Erina's face. Their eight-year-old was always quick to come to her defense. "It's because he has sense like his mother," she said before taking the tray from him. "Thank you, Rai. I can already tell it's delicious."

"The level of hypocrisy in this household," Souma said with a laugh.

Erina quickly smacked him with a nearby pillow and then turned back to their son. "So, explain your dish," she said.

"Alright, so I know that if we go out for breakfast, you normally get eggs benedict, so what I have for you is a southwestern play on that dish," he explained. "It uses chorizo in place of Canadian bacon and features a jalapeno hollandaise sauce. Next to this you have a side of potatoes and pan-fried asparagus with peppers, parsley, and sun-dried tomatoes."

Erina nodded, impressed. "You got all of that out of that one trip to San Antonio?"

"Pretty much," he said. "Enjoy!"

And enjoy she did. The flavors were perfectly balanced, yet whimsical, like a tightrope walker putting on a performance at the circus. "Nice work," she said. "Though next time, I'd use grape seed oil to cook the vegetables instead of olive oil, which is perhaps more robust than necessary in the context of this dish."

Raiden considered this for a moment. "Make sense. I got you next time!"

Erina smiled at him, and then took a sip of the fresh cranberry juice on the tray. She made a face. Turns out it was a vodka-cranberry, and god-tongue notwithstanding, no eight-year-old should have been able to mix a drink half as well as he had.

"Who taught you how to make this?" she asked, though she already had a hunch.

"Aunt Alice," he said, smiling. "She says it's the only way to have cranberry juice."

Erina shook her head ruefully. "She would say that, wouldn't she?"

"Uncle Ryo disagreed with her though. He said you should drink it by itself."

Once again, it seemed that Kurokiba was the only other sane person in this family. But then it dawned on her. "You mean the cranberry juice, right?"

"No, the vodka," Raiden replied. "He says it's always better to serve it neat unless they ask for something else."

"Sounds like Kurokiba," Souma said, and when Erina looked he was now wearing the same expression as her. "Wait, what do you mean serve?"

Raiden shrugged. "Oh, he let me and Erik run the bar last time we were at the pub."

"He what?" Souma and Erina asked simultaneously.

"Ah, I wasn't supposed to tell you guys that." Raiden laughed, scratching the back of his head. "You'll keep quiet, right?"

Erina exchanged a look with her husband, who only shrugged.

"It's not the craziest thing he could've been up to in Denmark," Souma said before glancing over at Raiden. "Right?"

"Yeah, the rest of the trip was pretty calm, except for that and fight club."

"FIGHT CLUB?"

Raiden sighed. "It's a lot to explain," he said. "But I just watched...mostly."

Erina picked up the vodka-cranberry and sighed. "I suppose I'll need the rest of this after all."

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading, everyone! I really love the idea of Alice and Ryo being the fun aunt and uncle lol.