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 kitchen with his niece, a glitter-covered green apron wrapped around his waist.
"What are we making?" he asked, squinting at the food-stained recipe card in his hand.
Mabel smiled. "Sugar cookies!"
Though anything requiring skill in the kitchen wasn't Ford's strength, he figured baking couldn't be all that difficult. The ingredients were listed neatly, accompanied by measurements, and the directions were clearly laid out. It was almost like a science experiment, and science was his expertise.
After about ten minutes into the process, he realized that his science skills didn't quite translate to baking.
He confused sugar with flour, and then accidentally spilled the baking powder to the floor. He got shells into the mixture when he cracked the egg. But Mabel wasn't bothered by his continuous mistakes, cheerfully assisting him when he needed it, extinguishing Ford's building frustration.
"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 amused when glitter smeared against his calloused palms.
Together they cut shapes out of the dough and arranged them onto the cookie sheet. Ford slipped them into the preheated 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 impressive row of Christmas-themed sprinkles and tubes of red, green and vanilla icing she had arranged on 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. They don't have to be perfect. So long as you're having fun doing it." Mabel 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 several decades with his family. He'd forgotten the small joys of the holiday season, and Mabel's enthusiasm for Christmas 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 his niece. "Funny thing about that. I don't recall ever actually saying I would help you bake cookies in the first place."
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 chaos, with flour coating the floor and counters and icing splattered across the walls and furniture. The two were sprawled on the floor, with Mabel laying against Ford's chest. Her hair was practically white with flour and Ford 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 help me clean."
Chuckling, Ford reached up and tussled her hair affectionately, a small cloud of white dust rising from the simple motion. "Guess I lost this one. You really did pick up some tricks from Stan, didn't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"All right." 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 into his shoulder. "Thanks for helping me with the Christmas cookies."
"My pleasure, Mabel," said Ford with a soft smile. "My pleasure."
