What A Mess

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25954897.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M, M/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel, Agent Carter (TV), Agent Carter
(Marvel Short Film)
Relationship: Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Peggy Carter/Jack Thompson, Daniel
Sousa/Jack Thompson, Peggy Carter & Jack Thompson, Peggy Carter
& Daniel Sousa, Peggy Carter & Daniel Sousa & Jack Thompson,
Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa & Jack
Thompson
Character: Peggy Carter, Daniel Sousa, Jack Thompson (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Baking, Jack is enthusiastic
about cookies, Daniel is helplessly endeared, but if you eat all the
dough he will kick your ass with a wooden spoon, Flour fight, Peggy has
two dumbasses for partners
Language: English
Series: Part 146 of Quarantine Drabbles, Part 7 of Something Comforting About
The Number Three
Stats: Published: 2020-08-17 Words: 1960

What A Mess
by TheAsexualofSpades

Summary

Contrary to what you might believe, Daniel is the master baker of the three of them. Jack
is...eager to help.

Peggy needs to learn that just because the two of them are frighteningly competent
professionals on their own, that doesn't mean their collective intelligence and common
sense stays intact when you put them together.

Notes

they are cute and imma die on this hill

See the end of the work for more notes

Fandom: Marvel
Prompt: “You are cleaning this up.”

One of the reasons Daniel loves baking so much is the therapeutic aspect of it. Plus you get
yummy things to eat afterward. It’s a prolonged gratification. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to get
the motivation to start. Which is why a hungry roommate came in handy every so often.

“Alright I want food,” Jack announces, throwing himself up off the table where the files are still
spread, “I’m going to the store, whattya want?”

“What are you buying?” Daniel looks up from his own files. It’s one of the rare days where they
both have no meetings to do all day, so they seized the opportunity and worked somewhere that
didn’t have an awful habit of smelling like a science lab.

“Dunno. I want something sweet and we’re out of popsicles because someone keeps eating all of
them.”

“Hey, it is not my fault they only put four popsicles in a box,”� Daniel protests, stretching lazily..
“Don’t we have ice cream?”

“Nah, Peggy and I ate all of that yesterday.”

“Well, that sounds like a personal problem.”

“If you have nothing constructive to add here—“

“Do you want cookies?”

Jack pauses, midway shrugging on his coat. “Are you hiding cookies from me, Daniel?”

“No, I asked if you want cookies,” he corrects, getting up to check the cupboards. Yep, they have
enough sugar, flour, and baking soda. He checks the fridge. Yep, eggs and butter, check.
“Chocolate chip?”
“Daniel, you don’t have to make me cookies, I’ll just go buy some.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my baking skills by insisting store-bought can compete
and instead ask you if you want chocolate chip.”

“Uh, hell yeah.”

“That was excessive.”

“It’s chocolate chip cookies.”

“Point taken.” Daniel scans the cupboards before boosting himself up onto the counter.

“Whoa, hey!”� Jack rushes over to stand behind him. “Be careful up there!”

“Oh, relax, I’ve been doing this forever. I’m not twenty feet tall like you are, I’ve gotta improvise.”

“I’m only two inches taller than you,” comes the grouchy reply from behind him.

“Yeah, and you hold it two inches over my head every goddamn day,”� he huffs, hopping back
down. “Look, go buy a bag of chocolate chips then get your ass back here.”

“Yessir!”

“Aaand he’s gone,” he muses not ten seconds later.

Shaking his head, he pokes around for the old journal that serves as his recipe book. He’d bought it
just before moving out and copied down the recipes he wanted to use. It’d been so long, he’d
committed some of them to memory. And it wasn’t like there was a decent enough kitchen at the
SSR to warrant keeping it anywhere else. Plus, he loved his colleagues—most of the time—but
most certainly did not trust them with this.
Taking it back to the countertop, he opens the book, spine creaking as the pages fluttered open,
turning over to reveal the pages of careful script dictating the recipes.

“Muffins, biscuits, normal chocolate chip cookies, brownies,”� she mutters, looking through the
book, “come on, where are you? No, I don’t want cornbread, not popovers, actually where are you
—ah. Found it. Now let’s see…”

Turning back to the cupboards, he begins to pull out the ingredients, setting the containers on the
counter and grouping them together by step. Once he finishes, he bends down to preheat the oven.
Turn the dial, come on, light up, grab the bowl, no, not that one, no, not that one, there you are!
Pull out the measuring cups and the teaspoons, aaand there’s the door again.

“Well, that was fast,”� he remarks as Jack dropped the bag of chocolate chips triumphantly on the
counter.

“Exactly what part of ‘chocolate chip cookies’ are you not understanding?”

He giggles at Jack’s obvious enthusiasm and watches him chuck off his shoes by the door. “Well,
if you're so eager, get over here and give me a hand.”

He freezes, coat still halfway on. “You sure?”

“Sure. Maybe you’ll learn enough to make them yourself,” Daniel teases, snorting at Jack’s happy
expression. “They’re just cookies, get a hold of yourself.”

Jack’s mouth drops in horror. “How. Dare. You.”

“Do you want them or not?”

“Fine, fine, I’m coming.”� Jack joins him behind the counter. He points to the recipe book. “This
it?”
“Yes, yes it is.” Gimme the half-cup of white sugar in the bowl, I’m gonna melt the butter.”

“Uh—“ Jack had his hands out, looking confusedly between the containers on the counter, “which
one’s the sugar?”

“Dunno off the top of my head, try one of the white canisters.”

“Ah! Got it. You said half a cup?”

Daniel gets the butter melting.”I’m pretty sure it’s half, check with the book.” A snort came from
over her shoulder. “Something wrong?”

“’Fluffy Chocolate Chippers?’”

“Got a problem with my recipe book?”

“No, sir. Half a cup of sugar, got it.”

Pouring the butter in, he puts his hands on his hips, thinking. “You wanna mix or add stuff?”

“Which one gives me more opportunity to eat from the bowl?”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’re adding stuff.”

“No, no, I’ll mix, it’s fine.” Jack's innocent expression doesn’t fool him for a minute.

“Listen, if you wanna eat the dough, wait until we get further down the line. It’ll taste better.”

“Does that mean I can mix?”

“Yes, you five year old, that means you can mix.”

“Alright!”� Jack cheers and grabs the wooden spoon. “Can I start now?”

“Oh my god, you’re adorable,” Daniel laughs, “yes, go ahead. I’m going to add the eggs and
vanilla, just make sure I get it in the bowl, not on you.”

“Can do.”

If only the agents could see Agent Thompson, so excited about making cookies. Daniel makes a
note to tell Peggy about how adorable this is, he’s not sure she’ll believe him.

Sure enough, Jack’s perfectly capable of dodging the eggs and vanilla as Daniel adds them. As he
disposes of the shells, he takes a moment to just look at Jack, at the intense look of concentration he
had as he stirred. It’s kinda funny.

“You know I’m surprised you’re down for these,” he says as he starts looking for the next
ingredients, “aren’t you big on watching what you eat?”

If he hadn’t been watching, or if he hadn’t known Jack as well as he’d hoped he did, the
momentary pause in his stirring would’ve been unnoticeable. But the tension in his face when he
looks up at him isn’t.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, huh?”� Jack gives him a tiny smile that is clearly
uncomfortable before looking back down.

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Jack, that was mean. I won’t do it again.”

“I know,” Jack says, glancing up. He cocks his head, indicating Daniel should come closer. He
does. Leaning over, he presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “I forgive you. Can I eat this yet?”

Thank god. “Let’s add the dry ingredients first and then you can.”
Daniel’s a little less successful in avoiding Jack’s hands with the flour, but the majority of the dry
ingredients make it into the bowl.

“Is it supposed to get real sticky?”� Jack lifts the spoon only to have most of the dough stick to it
and slide dejectedly back into the bowl.

“Yeah, just keep mixing until all the flour’s gone.”� He peers over his shoulder, which was hard
because again twenty feet tall. “Try not to overmix, we still need to add the chocolate and we don’t
want it to get tough.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Alright, just making sure.”

A few seconds later, all the white is gone.

“Can I eat this now?”

Daniel sighs. “Yes Jack,” he says, failing to keep the smile off his face, “you can eat it now. Just
remember we still have to add the chocolate.”

He’s not completely sure if Jack heard the last part of his sentence because he sticks his finger in
the bowl and gets out a blob big enough to be a cookie by itself. He pops it into his mouth, eyes
widening.

“Holy hell, Sousa, that’s amazing!”

“Really?” Daniel takes a much smaller piece and tries it. “Yeah, not bad.”

“Not bad, he says,” Jack mutters, going back in for more.

“Wait! Let’s add the chocolate first, it’s better with the chocolate.”

“Everything’s better with chocolate,” Jack agrees, grabbing the bag. “Whole thing?”

“No, no, three-quarters of a cup.”� They pour it in. Jack fruitlessly tries to stab it a few times with
the spoon but the dough is too sticky. “If you want you can use your hands just make sure to—“
Jack sticks his hands in the dough— “wash them first,” Daniel finishes weakly.

“Uh—“

“Eh, it’s fine, it’ll back off. Just mix the chips in and I’ll get the trays out.” That works for all of
ten seconds before Daniel turns back to see Jack just eating the dough. “Hey!”

He rushes forwards to snatch the bowl. Jack makes a squeak of protest and tries to snatch it back.
Daniel hunches protectively over the bowl.

“We have to bake at least some of them first, come on, you wanted cookies!”

“That was before I realized how good the dough was,”� Jack shoots back.

“Get out of my kitchen!” Daniel grabs the spoon and swats Jack with it. “Get back, you thief!”

“Hey, hey!” Jack flails to dodge the spoon and his elbow knocks the canister of flour. His eyes go
wide and before Daniel can blink he’s got a handful.

“If you throw that at me before the cookies are in the oven I’m never making cookies for you ever
again,” Daniel threatens. It’s an empty threat and they both probably know it. It’s a rough few
seconds, though.

“Yeah okay fair enough.”� Jack lowers his hand, trying to get most of the flour back into the
canister and not all over the counter. “So how do we get these on here?”

Deep breaths, Daniel, come on. Get your words in order. “I’m going to separate out bits of the
dough. Can you roll them into balls and put them on the tray?”�

“Yeah, I can do that.”� A few moments later, all the dough save for the few scraps still on the
spoon and in the bowl are rolled and ready. “Pop these in?”

“Yeah. Set the timer for six minutes.”

“You got it.” The timer ticks on the counter. “All set.”�

“Wanna help me eat the rest?”�

“Hell yeah.”

Daniel has to admit, it’s really good dough. They did a good job. He sets the bowl in the sink and
turns on the water, adding some soap to get the stubborn bits off. No sooner does he finish drying
off the bowl he turns and almost runs smack dab into Jack’s chest.

“The cookies are in the oven now.”

Ah, shit. He should’ve worded that better. Sure enough, Jack’s hiding one hand behind his back.

“Uh, let’s not do that.”

“You might wanna arm yourself, then.”

“I’m not getting flour all over this house, Jack.”

“Hey, you don’t wanna use flour, that’s your problem.”�

“If those cookies burn it is your fault.”

 “You’re the one still standing here.”

“Good point.”

Peggy walks in through the door about twenty minutes later. She stops as soon as she rounds the
corner, her eyes raking over the kitchen absolutely smothered in flour, two racks of cookies cooling
on the counter, and her partners draped over various surfaces, also absolutely smothered in flour,
hiccuping from laughing too hard.

“You are cleaning this up,” she manages before she too bursts out laughing.

The cookies are delicious.

End Notes

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