I just realized that Jasper "terrified of the ocean" Rift's first crush was David "swims in the deep ocean for funsies" Ortiz and for some reason this Amuses me
Note: In case you didn’t know, I am incapable of writing things with plot
It took exactly one four-word text to send Shawn bursting through the Rift family’s door like a whirlwind. “Where are you, Jasp?”
“In the kitchen.” A moment later, he was in the living room. He was wearing the frilly, hot pink apron with the words “Hot Stuff” branded on it in big, curly letters that Shawn had given him for Christmas. “What’s up?”
“What’s up? What’s up? You send me a text that says ‘I want to die’ with no explanation and you have the audacity to look confused when I break into your house?”
“Dude, it’s not breaking in. You literally have a key.”
“That is not the point here.” He stood on his toes to get into Jasper’s face. “Explain yourself.”
Jasper blinked in surprise before something clicked. “Oh, you think-- no, I’m fine. I’ve just been chopping dates and the mindless repetition was about enough to make me want to bash out my own brain. Nothing scary.”
Shawn narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You’ve been chopping… dates?”
“Yep.”
“And you hated it enough to text me something that sounds borderline suicidal for funsies?” He brushed past Jasper to storm into the kitchen, vaguely aware of Jasper’s amused chuckle as he followed him. “I’d better find a ton of dates, or so help me I will hogtie you and drag you to my therapist.”
To be fair, there were a ton in a bowl on the kitchen table, chopped up to about the size of raisins. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think that’s necessary. And you couldn’t do it even if you tried.” Jasper circled around him to fuss over supplies on the counter.
Okay, that was probably true. He glanced at the notecared on the table. It had big, scrawling handwriting all over it with the label ‘Orange, Date, & Nut Cake’ at the top. “Look, far be it from my place to judge your bizarre, masochistic ways, but why exactly are you doing this to yourself? You hate baking and, last I checked, you didn't like fruitcakes.”
Jasper dropped something and went diving after it. “It’s Dad’s birthday, and this is his Grandma’s recipe that Aunt Jane told me was his favorite, and I didn’t think a pound of dates would be so much work to chop--”
“A pound of these goes into this thing?” He burst out, horrified.
“I know, right?” Jasper laughed anxiously. “And I haven’t even started anything else yet. I have literally been chopping for over an hour.” He pointed at the bowl.
“Uh, Jasper?” Shawn ventured, eyeing the cheese grater dubiously.
“That’s me.”
“Didn’t you, like, skin your finger last time you used that thing?”
“Yep. Took some of the meat off, too. Dad fainted. There’s still a scar there. That was when I was using the grating side, though. This is the zesting side.”
“Lovely,” he muttered, unconvinced, as Jasper grated the orange against it as if there wasn’t an injury involved almost every time he took it out of the cupboard.
“Ow!”
And there it was. He got up to get the Band-Aids.
“That doesn’t look like much orange.” Jasper frowned at the mountain of dates next to the measly two tablespoon high pile of chopped orange. Or, more accurately, the ‘about two tablespoons’ high pile; Jasper seemed to have forsaken formally measuring things for the time being. “You know what? That’s not enough orange.”
Shawn’s head snapped up from his article on local lesser known cryptids in an instant. “Don’t do it, dude. Baking has formal measurements for a reason, messing with them can have consequences.”
“Dad likes orange, so it’ll be fine.” He was already dicing up more, and ended up using half of it before he was satisfied.
Jasper, flopped over the table like he was, looked like some sort of poster boy for being overdramatic. “Why does the world hate me. I just want to be done, is that too much to ask here?”
“Dude, why didn’t you check to see if you needed to re-batch more of your flour blend before you started?”
“I didn’t think that four cups would be so much, okay? Leave me alone to die.”
“You’re not gonna die. Calm down.”
“Yes I am! My will to live is getting weaker by the second. I’m going to burst into a bunch of flower petals and float off into the breeze like a wizened kung-fu master any moment.”
“No, you’re not. Now get off the table.”
“I’m not doing it, Shawn.”
“You’re not doing what?”
Jasper jabbed an accusing finger at the recipe which, by this point, looked like it had been through a war zone. Then again, so did Jasper. And the kitchen. And Shawn. Flour was all over, well, everything-- one component of the flour, anyways. Jasper had dropped the potato starch, the lid had fallen off, and, well… Shawn had almost resorted to grabbing him by the ear and physically dragging his crying ass off the floor after that incident.
“It says, ‘add nuts and dates last, rolled in some of the flour.’ I’m not doing that. Do you have any idea how much this stuff costs, Shawn? I have literally cried over making it. I’m not just going to squander it by rolling goddamn dates in it.”
Shawn shrugged. “Then don’t, I guess. But don’t come crying to me when it doesn’t work.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He dumped the mound of dates, and significantly smaller piles of oranges and nuts, into the bowl.
“Are you sure that’s all going to be able to get stirred in?”
“I really hope so.”
Miraculously, it did, although it looked as if it were made of cement when Jasper poured it into the pan, and weighed about the same, too.
“Right. Now that that monstrosity is in the oven, I should get started on the sauce,” Jasper said primly, as if he wasn’t even more covered in flour and hadn’t had Shawn pinned in a headlock on the floor for the last two minutes for stealing some of the batter.
Shawn put his hands behind his head in attempt to relax on the hard, unforgiving linoleum. “You know, it actually tasted pretty good. That thing might turn out to be decent.”
“Ha-ha, that’s funny. It’s a fruit cake, how good can it be?”
“Maybe it's a magic fruit cake that drains its creator’s life force in order to make itself delicious.”
Jasper gave him a doubtful look before turning towards the recipe. “Okay, this should be easy. I just have to put the stuff in a pot and heat it on the stove until it’s dissolved.”
Laying on the floor quickly got uncomfortable, and that meant he was back to hovering behind Jasper. “Can I taste it?”
“It’s a boiling liquid. You don’t want to taste it.”
“Uh, yeah, actually, I do. I saw how much sugar you put in that thing.”
Jasper sighed. “Fine, but get your own spoon.”
The millisecond of flavor he got before his taste buds were boiled alive and sending him running to the freezer for ice was absolute bliss. “It’s good,” he said around an ice cube. Not exactly the most understandable methods of communication, but if Jasper could understand him when he’d gotten his tongue stung by a hornet, than he could understand him now.
He chuckled, still stirring the juice/sugar/orange mixture. “Glad you think so-- oh, shit.” He froze, eyes wide.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot the xanthum gum,” he said flatly.
“And that’s… bad?”
“That’s the stuff that helps hold gluten free baked stuff together, so yeah, that’s pretty bad.” He laughed, horrified. “It’s gonna fall apart.”
Shawn patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, man. Your dad’ll still love you.”
“Listen, I know that you’re already ruined, and I’m sorry, but do you really have to make this worse for me than it already is? The only other birthday present I have for Dad is a pack of cheap pens, okay? I need you to be somewhat edible.”
As per the directions on the recipe, they’d poured the sauce over the cake while it was still hot in the pan. Not as per the directions, the sauce was refusing to absorb like it was supposed to.
“Maybe if we poked holes in it, like Mom does with that chocolate cake with the caramel sauce?” he suggested.
A metaphorical lightbulb seemed to turn on over Jasper's head. “Shawn, you incredible bastard, I would mcflipping make out with you for that idea if you were into guys.”
“Sorry, dude. You'll just have to settle for friends without benefits. It's not your fault though, I am pretty irresistible.” He brushed his hair out of his face and winked.
Jasper raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? Is that what you are?”
“Hey! Are you calling me ugly?”
“No, no, not ugly. But you're definitely not ‘please drag me to the nearest broom closet,’ either.”
“I'm so kinkshaming you for that later.”
“That’s a gem, coming from you.”
An hour later, it was cool enough to come out of the pan, and managed to do so without incident.
“I am never, ever making this thing again,” Jasper swore.
It didn’t crumble nearly as much as Jasper seemed to think it would. Hell, Mr. Rift seemed to love it. “Do you think you could make it again, maybe over Christmas? Grandma always had it over Christmas.”
Shawn could have swore that he saw Jasper’s eye twitch. “Yeah, sure, Dad. No problem.”
Me: wow Jasper, Friday, Susan and Shawn would make a hilarious teen comedy-esque story too bad I already have a plot for them
WIP: no you don’t
Me: …oh
There’s so much potential for this!!!
Susan trying to get Shawn to date her and consulting in the Other Squad Members for advice in wooing and Jasper barges in with an entire wardrobe of clothes in his arms like, “Okay, first of all booty shorts are gonna be your best friend” and Friday tries to argue with him but he’s having none of it because it’s worked on everyone he’s tried it on, including you, Small Fri. they probably argue about it for a solid five minutes before Susan says that’s not really her style and he drops it
My current canon for these kids has always been 18-21 but I might age them down just for Jasper rocking his dresses at school dances. Unless. oh God unless Jasper is wearing these glam-ass dresses to goddamn college parties holy shit
Someone is mean to Shawn? Perfect we get to see Jasper go into Murder Mode and it is A Shock to everyone except Shawn
Counterargument against college: Hiroki teaches at the school they would go to if I aged them down and I’m always willing to tire him out with Student Shenanigans. Also Jasper and Tammy would be going at each other’s throats all the time in that really catty high school way and it’d be hilarious
There’s gotta be at least one scene on the flying motorcycle okay that’s just how it is the flying motorcycle exists and therefore it should be used as much as possible
David appears at random times. At least once after he leaves Jasper brings up that he and Friday have mutually agreed they can cheat on the other with David because Hot Damn and Shawn visibly dies a little on the inside
Dodging incompetent government agents searching for the escaped alien. Susan directly interacts with them at least once. They tell her to say safe because there’s a dangerous alien on the loose and talk about what a pleasant young lady she is as they leave
I mean none of this will ever probably happen because writing is weird and hard but it’s a fun idea I’ll probably be playing with in my head for a while now
