A/N: Set in the co-parenting AU, hope I'm not stepping on anybody's toes!

I initially posted this on AO3, and completely forgot about my FFN for the day so this one's actually three days late, go figure! The AO3 version had a fancy-schmancy work skin and HTML formatting which is why this version has a couple of minor changes.

Since I was rushing to get this piece out, whenever I read it now, it feels too fast for my liking. I'd just like to know if my pacing's alright is all.

Alex had just gotten back from school, the last day of term finally over and excited for the summer holidays.

"Honey, I'm home!"

"In here."

Yassen was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan on the stove. He turned down the heat and turned to face Alex.

"How was school?"

"It was alright. What are you making?"

"Kompot. My babushka used to make it every summer, as soon as the season's fruit was ripe. She would make kisel' from the strained fruit leftover."

"So… your babushka made a lot of sweets?"

"She made all kinds of things."

"They really good?"

"I dare say there wasn't anything she made that could've tasted bad."

Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow, that's high praise coming from you. What was your favourite?"

"…Her cherry pirozhki. The filling had a slight tang to it that cut through the fruitiness: not too sweet, not too sour. I have tried making it like she did for many years, but mine has never quite tasted like hers." The assassin had an almost clouded look in his eyes and the smallest of frowns on his face.

"Huh… I'm going to head up to my room now – oh, and tell me when Ben gets back!"

Yassen went back to his kompot and Alex went upstairs to his room, making a beeline for his computer. He sat down, booted up the machine, and opened Google Chrome. Now, how to make cherry pi…

A few days later, Yassen had left for an assignment in Croatia, one of the longer ones; he wouldn't be back until around the end of the summer. So, Alex had just under six weeks to get this done. Time to call in the cavalry.

"Why are we here again?" Wolf was ninety-nine percent sure this was another hare-brained scheme he probably wanted to avoid but somehow found himself in the living room of a certain house in Chelsea anyway.

"Yassen's grandma would make lots of food when he was a kid."

"…I don't see what that's got to do with anything." Snake said.

"Well, he said his favourite was cherry pierogi and he couldn't quite get his to taste like hers so I wanted to make some for his birthday but I don't know how."

"His birthday? Isn't that next year?"

"It has to be perfect. We need good intel. What better place to start than where it's made?"

"Is it bad that I'm not getting it? 'Cause I'm still stuck on Yassen's grandma." Eagle asked.

Everyone paused and turned to stare at him for a moment.

"Pack your bags because we're going to Russia, boys."

When Wolf had signed up for the SAS, he'd expected fighting for Queen and country, gruelling deployments and seeing things normal people would never see. Not crazy teenage spies with even crazier ideas and a knack for trouble, but he supposed that counted as the third one. Now, life wouldn't be the same without the insane, and downright kooky situations he kept getting stuck in – truth be told, he wouldn't have it any other way. Not that anybody would ever hear him say that.

Amy Sloan was just one of many counter clerks working at Heathrow Airport and during her tenure, she'd seen some strange and outright bizarre things – you've got to admit it's not everyday you see someone get stopped because of a suitcase full of cigars and packets of Japanese cheesecake.

But that had done nothing to prepare her for the sight of four men and two teenage boys stuck over at the security checkpoint over what looked to be almost an entire kitchen. Pots, pans, electric whisk, mini fridge, and was that a camping stove in the back? Okay, maybe Louise was right. Time for a very much needed holiday.

"Well, that was a brilliant start."

"I'm hungry, can we—"

"We just ate half an hour ago, Tom!"

"It's not my fault I have a fast metabolism!"

"Um, guys? We've got five minutes before boarding time."

"…Fuck!"

Thankfully, they made it on time and had a relatively peaceful flight. But it looked like the guys upstairs had clearly decided that the pity party was over because the rest of the trip could be nothing short of an utter disaster.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Ben asked.

"I'm pretty sure the orchards were this way," Eagle replied.

"We're going the wrong way, aren't we? Alex, go ask that lady by the town hall where the orchards are."

"She said the orchards were that way."

"Alright, everybody turn around! It's the other way."

"What do you think?"

Everyone took a pieróg from the first plate.

Wolf turned to Alex. "You said it had a sour tang to it?"

"Slight."

"It's too sweet."

Right, second plate.

"Okay, how about this?"

"Too sour."

Third time's the charm?

"How about with these cherries?"

"Too watery."

There were still two plates left.

"What about these ones?"

"Too fruity."

Alex handed over the last plate on the table.

"They're a bit… mushy, these ones."

Alex let out a long breath. His right eye twitched. Mushy? Mushy?

A sudden hush fell upon the room and—

S n a p.

"Arghhhhh!"

An old lady who lived on the outskirts of town had decided to come out for a walk – a rare occasion indeed – simply minding her own business until some horrible screeching noise had scared her cats up a tree. Luckily, she used to be a gymnast back in the day. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite what she used to be and could not actually get up the tree to reach her cats who had begun to yowl. Oh, dear.

Alex rushed up to the counter, wrapping a new batch of pierogi, turning up the heat on the stove and dropping them into the bubbling water, double-quick time.

"I think the cabin fever's getting to him," Eagle whispered, sotto voce.

"Nah, you just don't know what he's like when he's trying out something new in the kitchen," Tom remarked.

The teenage spy slaving over the stove turned off the heat and grabbed a slotted spoon to fish out the cooked dumplings. Now that his pierogi were safe, he turned his head to his friend sharply.

"Hey, I don't see you complaining when you're stuffing your face with my hard work!"

"I'm your certified guinea pig. Of course I'm going to be stuffing my face with your hard work. What do you think I'm getting paid for?"

"You don't even get paid."

"Neither do you."

"…Oh, he did not just go there."

"Okay, our last day is tomorrow so let's make the most of our time here, guys. Why don't we go outside for a bit, I think we could all do with some fresh air, don't you?"

Ben was looking quite frazzled, not that anyone could blame him after the past five weeks they'd been through. Being the peacekeeper was not a job anybody wanted, but alas, sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Wolf did not envy him in the slightest, poor bastard.

"We could all do with going home, more like."

"Hear, hear."

Eight months later, the Easter holidays had rolled round. Alex had gotten K-Unit and Tom to keep Yassen busy while he made a bowl of cherry pierogi. Alex heard the click of the lock in the front door and rushed to clean up.

"Happy birthday, Yassen! Remember last year when I asked you about your babushka's cooking? Yeah, so I made you a plate of cherry pierogi, I hope you like them!" The boy proudly presented a bowl full of pierogi.

Yassen froze for a second, mouth falling open slowly. His stance softened, and he reached out for a dumpling. Time seemed to stretch as the Russian tried the pieróg.

Silence reigned the room for a good minute or two. Nobody dared speak.

"…Do you… not like it?"

"What? No, the varenik is fine." Yassen's eyes widened as he noticed his slip-up. "Ah."

"Vareniki?! I thought—"

He sighs. "The Polish word 'pierogi' is easy to confuse with the Russian 'pirozhki'. But you looked so thrilled that I didn't have the heart to tell you."

"I must have gotten them mixed up when I was searching for recipes to base mine off of. Shit."

"You mean to say we did all that for nothing?!"

Forget whatever he said earlier, Wolf took it back. Bloody trouble magnet and his stupid shenanigans. As far as he was concerned, sentimentality could go fuck off and hang.

"It's alright, Alex. It's the thought that counts, yes? I would much rather be enjoying good food than mope over what can't be changed. In fact, why don't you show me your recipe right now?"

"Really? Okay. I'll just have to get it right next year – then it'll be perfect!" The two went into the kitchen. Already, enthusiastic chatter seeped in through the walls.

Meanwhile, back in the living room, the five who had served as Alex's long-suffering test subjects over the summer had a terrible thought.

Next year, perfect, intel— oh. NO.

They practically sighed as one.

For god's sake.

The 'pirozhki'/'pierogi' mix-up is based off of my own mistake. I was browsing this cooking blog, Natasha's Kitchen, and I came across a recipe for cherry pierogi. The original idea was for Alex to make some for Yassen's birthday because he said he missed the ones that his grandmother used to make. I left it in fic jail for a long time so when I came back to it, I'd mixed up 'pierogi' with 'pirozhki'. When I started my research, I found out not only was it not 'pirozhki', it wasn't even called 'pierogi' in Russian to begin with. Entirely my fault. (≧∇≦)

Disclaimer: I'm no expert in East Slavic cuisine so if I've made any mistakes, please do correct me.