When Cake and French Toast Collide
Written for Shipping Week on Morsmordre
Prompt: confetti
Pairing: Aberforth/Dragon
Perhaps the biggest mistake Aberforth made was trying to bake a cake for Dragon's birthday. He specialized in making soups and stews for his customers, which were horrid. The drinks were alright and the goat cheese pizza was good, but everything else was either burnt, runny or an absolute disaster by the time he was finished with it.
With that in mind, he thought he'd try using a box mix containing everything he needed to make confetti cake. It seemed like a decent plan, but then he wasn't really making a cake, was he? No, not really. That was no different than ordering one from a bakery. But perhaps he could take the box mix and put his own spin on the recipe.
He dumped a generous portion of heavy whipping cream, goat milk, vanilla and cinnamon in a large bowl, then he added eight eggs. The cake mix was dumped on top, thoroughly mixed and then poured into a casserole dish lined with pieces of bread. An entire loaf of bread, to be precise.
"That looks about right," he said, standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the mess. Aberforth covered the cakey bread slop with confetti sprinkles and stuck the casserole dish in the oven. He then realized that he still had cake mix leftover. "Now what do I do with this?"
The remaining cake mix was combined with globs of butter. This resulted in a crumbly streusel topping.
"I suppose that'll make a decent topping," Aberforth said, studying his creation while scratching his beard.
When everything was done, he presented her with a dish that resembled rainbow clown vomit. It didn't help that he served the cake with warm frosting melted on top, which was simply nauseating.
Dragon looked at the cake, wrinkling her snout in disgust. "Oh, it's very pretty, Aberforth," she said, trying her best to sound polite. After all, he had done his best to make a cake for her birthday. It's the thought that counts, you know. "What is it?"
"It's erm... confetti cake french toast casserole," Aberforth replied. "I thought about pouring syrup on top, but frosting seemed more appropriate."
This was food for a dementor, not a dranine. Thankfully, she was spared having to eat his colorful creation when Chavo yeeted himself on top of the casserole dish and proceeded to chow down like a pack of rabid hyenas.
"Tastes good, but it needs boobs," said Chavo, lifting his frosting covered face from the casserole dish.