Now that Carlisle regularly slept with Charlie Swan, he felt it necessary to do something especially nice for the man on his birthday. He considered sleeping with him, but that happened most nights, so it wouldn't make a very good gift. He also considered buying something, but Charlie never seemed to want anything other than the game on TV, beer, sex, his daughter's safety, Edward's existence terminated, and general happiness. And so Carlisle was driven back to the most traditional form of celebration, one that he thought himself ridiculous for not thinking of sooner: food.
His family had cooked before. He himself had cooked countless times. And he was certain it had turned out well. There was the time they had cooked Italian for Bella… but it turned out she'd already eaten. Right. Well then there had been Bella's birthday. But then she had had the indecency to start bleeding, and had never actually gotten the cake down the hatch.
But it couldn't be that hard. Humans did it all the time, and he knew full well that they were incapable of the most basic things. So cooking had to be fairly simple.
xXxXx
He decided not to try his luck by baking a whole cake. One cupcake would suffice. The recipe he had produced twelve cupcakes, and so he quickly cut the whole thing down by a twelfth and started from there.
The ingredients in the cupboard were, possibly, a few years old, but as they were going to be baked, it would be of little consequence, he decided.
Therefore, upon procuring all the necessary components, he set to work.
xXxXx
Not one of the Cullens, upon entering the kitchen at home, dared asked what their father was thought he was doing. The whole place was covered in flour and sticky little globs of… something. All in all they thought it best to avoid the kitchen for a few days after the incident. To avoid any personal injury.
xXxXx
It was a proud Carlisle Cullen who presented Charlie with his humble gift on the Wednesday that marked that forty-first year of his birth. Charlie, for his part, looked touched, and thanked him very warmly indeed. It was only when he took a bite that the problems began.
xXxXx
He tried, he really did, to disguise his true feelings about the cupcake. And he succeeded for the most part, by masking a groan of acute pain with one of pleasure, and the look on Carlisle's face was enough to make him cry. He looked so proud, so pleased with himself, that Charlie actually ate the whole thing, trying to cram each bite very full with icing, which was the only thing not totally poisonous.
xXxXx
Carlisle made up for it very well in bed, and Charlie almost thought that his struggles had well been worth it when, as Carlisle thought back to how delighted Charlie had looked while eating the cupcake, murmured, "Maybe we should make this a tradition." This time, Charlie did cry.
Be aware! Never reduce a recipe. It ALWAYS ends badly.