Confectionary Gifts

Kodiak stood in his small apartment kitchen, his perpetual scowl deepening as he stared at the bowl of sticky rice flour in front of him. He hadn't wanted to participate in any cooking related activities in the first place, but with the mochi moon celebrations fast approaching, and no time of her own to be able to make any to enjoy on the night, Hops had practically begged him with those (annoyingly) earnest eyes of hers. Not that it could be helped. Her never-ending string of debt to the casino wasn’t going to be paid off any time soon, especially not before the coming of the holidays.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself, aggressively kneading the ingredients into something identifiable as a dough. "I should be out right now, drinking and fucking myself into a stupor… not stuck in here, covered in the wrong kind of white powder. I'm a guitarist for a punk band, not some lame ass confectionery chef for fucks sake."

Still, despite the incessant complaining, he labored away at the dough with rough hands. The kitchen counter was dusted in a mess of rice starch and filling ingredients, the sweet smell of red bean paste and strawberry jam hanging heavy in the air, making his nose wrinkle in disgust.

By god, he still he hated sweets with a fiery passion.

Breaking him out of his downward spiral of frustration, his doorbell rang out, cutting through the night with the distinctive rapid-fire pattern that was an unmistakable sign of Hops’ arrival. He sighed heavily, bracing himself mentally for the walking hurricane of a bun that was about to enter his home.

"Kodiak! It smells sweet in here— are you really making them? The mochi? What flavours did you decide on for mochi moon? Wait, wait, don’t tell me, I want it to be a surprise— or, actually, can I watch? Can I help?" The gluttony bun burst through the door with the force of semi-truck, bee-lining her way directly into the kitchen, nearly knocking over a chair in her excitement. Her casino uniform was askew, cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath, probably from rushing over after her shift finally ended.

"No, you're going to break something," Kodiak growled, quickly moving his… interestingly shaped mochi on a plate out of her reach, not even gracing her with a greeting before voicing his distaste. "And yes, they're almost done, though I still don't know why I'm wasting my time on this for you. You know I don’t do the mochi side of this holiday."

Hops beamed, the venomous comments going in one of her lop ears and out the other, completely immune to his usual grumpiness. "Because you're actually really nice under all that grumbling? And you like me? Even if you like the drinking more—" She reached for one of the finished mochi, managing to knock over the remaining carton of rice flour in the process.

"Don't touch anything!" Kodiak snapped both at the accusation and the accident alike, his hellfire flaring up around his horns in a show of irritation, though his eyes softened slightly as he watched her scramble to clean up her mess. "Just... sit down, and damn well stay still. I'll give them to you when they're ready."

Hops retreated from the counter with an exaggerated pout, plopping down at the kitchen table and swinging her legs like an impatient child that had just been scolded. Her ears perked up every few minutes at the sound of Kodiak cussing under his breath as he worked, and she couldn't help but sneak glances at him as he tried to shape each mochi with surprisingly gentle movements, despite his obvious irritation.

In the end, the mochi turned out a little lumpy— something that further vexed the pride bun, not that Kodiak would admit to caring about the result. With Hops’ track record, the confections wouldn’t be around long enough for anyone to know.

Shoving them across the table in a cleaned take-out container, the man clicked his tongue as she leapt from her seat once more to pluck one from box. “Here— now you can stop nagging me about how your hours stopped you from getting to make any for the celebration. Don’t ask me again, unless it involves a free pass into the casino for free drinks on the night.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, big guy. Now, let me taste test one of these bad boys to make sure they’re perfect for pairing with my drinks!” She waved her hand dismissively at his whinging, opening her lips wide to get as much in of a mouthful as she could. A small spark of satisfaction spread through his body at Hops' delighted expression when she took her first bite, drowning out her excited spouting entirely.

Not that anyone had to know that fact, either.