#in terms of timeline this takes place after Stan has moved in with the Gucks

[thelastspeecher]

Halloween prompt, thinking waay back to the Bakery AU. Angie, Stan, and Lute make a bet, winner gets to pick Halloween costumes for the others

Thank you for the Bakery AU prompt!  I love that AU, it’s so Wholesome.  So here’s some more Wholesome content.  Enjoy!

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              “That’s not enough punkin.”

              “Not-”  Stan sighed and looked over at Lute, who was watching him make pumpkin cheesecake cookies. “You told me to always follow the recipe after I fucked up that cake.”

              “Yes.”

              “I’m following the recipe.”

              “Hmm.”  Lute squinted at the recipe taped to the wall in front of Stan.  “Oh, I see.  We need to update the recipe.  Last time we made it, it wasn’t punkiny enough.”

              “Why do you pronounce ‘pumpkin’ like that?” Stan muttered.  Lute shrugged.  “Anyways, there’s no pumpkin left.  I just dumped the last of it into the bowl.”

              “That ain’t a problem.”  Lute reached under the counter and pulled out a pumpkin, then plopped it onto the counter.  Stan stared at it.  “Chop it in half, scoop out the guts, roast it in the oven, then ya can use the flesh. Oh, and don’t forget to save the seeds. We roast ‘em fer use in other things.”

              “You’re joking,” Stan said flatly.

              “You were there when we bought a bunch of sugar punkins.  What did ya think we got ‘em for?” Lute teased.  Stan groaned loudly.

              “Angie, your twin is torturing me!” he called to Angie, who was a few feet away.  Angie didn’t respond.  Stan turned. “Angie?”

              “Mm-hmm,” Angie mumbled, clearly intensely focused on decorating cupcakes.

              “Lute is torturing me,” he repeated.

              “That’s nice,” Angie said.  Lute snickered.

              “Whine to her after she’s done,” Lute suggested. Stan scowled at Lute.  “Finish up those cookies, feller.”

----- 

              Stan had begun the next batch of cookies, salted caramel, when Angie finally finished decorating.  She stretched, working out the kinks from standing in the same position for so long.

              “All right, what were ya tryin’ to talk at me about?” she asked, turning to face Stan.

              “Oh, I was just saying that Lute was torturing me,” Stan said with a shrug.  He cracked an egg into the mixing bowl.  “We ran out of pumpkin, and he made me make more.”

              “That ain’t torture.  That’s teachin’ ya some more cookin’,” Angie said dismissively. Stan rolled his eyes.

              “Shoulda figured you’d side with him.”  He looked over at the cupcakes Angie had been decorating. “You spent a lot of time on those.”

              “You really want to win the contest, huh?” Lute asked, walking over to look at the cupcakes.  Stan followed.  He looked over the cupcakes, smiling faintly.  They had been decorated with cutesy, cartoonish versions of mummies, ghosts, vampires, zombies, and other classic Halloween monsters.

              And she tries to say she sucks at decorating. She’s way too hard on herself. What Lute had said registered.

              “Wait, what contest?” he asked.  Lute raised an eyebrow.

              “Ya don’t recall?  You agreed to participate in it, Stanley.  Y’know, the person who wins gets to choose what we wear fer Halloween.”

              “Oh, right, that,” Stan said.  “We’re selling things at that fair tomorrow.”  Lute and Angie nodded.  “The person who sells the most wins.  But why does Angie’s decorating have anything to do with that?”

              “We changed the rules a bit,” Angie said, beginning to carefully put her cupcakes into containers for transportation.  “Now, ya get a point fer each item you sell, and an additional point fer each item sold that you made, even if you didn’t sell that item yourself.”

              “That’s why you’re going hard with the decorating.”

              “Yep!”  Angie grinned.  “Don’t worry, we took into account the fact that yer still new to bakin’ and decoratin’. The cookies are bestsellers.”

              “But they have to be made to be sold,” Lute said, elbowing Stan.  “So ya best get back to work!  You’ve still got chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle, and sugar cookies to make.”

              “…And decorate,” Stan groaned.

              “If ya want, I can make some royal icing fer ya,” Angie offered.  Stan shook his head.

              “No, I want a fair fight,” he said.  Lute and Angie beamed.  Lute clapped a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

              “That’s the spirit!”

----- 

              “I fucked up,” Stan said, staring at the pastries laid out before him.  They’d set up their stand at the fair, and now that Stan saw his decorations next to the McGuckets’, he had some regrets.  Lute had taken a route similar to Angie.  His treats – the square-shaped ones like brownies, blondies, marshmallow rice bars, and pumpkin bars – had been decorated with adorable symbols of Halloween, like bats and pumpkins.

              Stan, however, had gone the other direction. His cookies were decorated with bloodshot eyeballs, severed fingers, and brains.  Even compared to the things sold by other stands, his realistic, gory decorations stuck out.

              “I don’t know,” Angie said, picking up a cookie to look at it thoughtfully.  Her nose wrinkled.  “There’s prob’ly a market fer decorated goodies like this.”

              “You did a really good job,” Lute said.  “I have no clue how ya got ‘em to be so realistic. You have quite a talent fer artwork.”

              “Yeah, but that’s not gonna help me win the competition,” Stan groaned.  “Guess I’ll just have to make sure I sell as much as possible.  Speaking of, when’s my shift?”

              “Yer last,” Lute said.

              “What?  But there won’t be anyone here to sell to!”

              “Yer the best at selling,” Angie explained.  “We had to take the edge off that skill by givin’ ya the worst shift.  Lute’s the worst at sellin’, so he’s got the best shift.”  Stan squinted at her.

              “Why’d you make this so complicated?”

              “We’re rather competitive,” Angie said, leaning against the stand.  “It can get…nasty.  The more rules we have in place, the more methods we have fer reducin’ potential bias, the less likely we’ll be sore losers at the end.”

              “…Fair,” Stan said, thinking back to the first time he’d played a board game with the siblings.  By the end of it, the normally amicable brother and sister had been at each other’s throats.  Lute put an arm around Stan’s shoulders.

              “Let’s go goof off a bit while Angie takes up the first shift.”

              “Yes, please leave,” Angie said.  She made a shooing motion.  “You two ‘re scarin’ off customers!”

----- 

              Stan adjusted his eyepatch and grinned at his reflection.  Being pirates for Halloween was the right choice.

              Stan and Lute waited for Angie to finish adding up all the points.  She let out a loud groan.

              “Dangit!”

              “Who won?” Lute asked. Angie scowled.

              “Stan.”

              “Wait, what?” Stan asked, startled.  “But there weren’t any people around to sell to during my shift.”

              “No, but yer cookies were a huge success.  People loved the spooky decorations,” Angie sighed.  She tucked the pencil she’d been using to add up the points behind one ear. “Ya took a risk that ended up payin’ off.”

              “Great,” Lute muttered, slumping against the pickup truck.  “I had a splendid idea fer costumes.”  He eyed Stan. “Don’t pick anything sexy, okay? I don’t want Angie to be dressed in some short skirt ‘n skintight shirt.”

              “I also would not like to see my sibling in a sexy costume,” Angie said.  “And ya best not wear a sexy costume neither.  We have pastries to sell on Halloween.”  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “There goes my plan.”

              “Halloween ain’t until next week, so’s ya have a little while to come up with somethin’,” Lute said.  “Just make it appropriate.”

              There was a knock on the bathroom door.

              “Come in,” Stan said, messing with his shirt. Lute opened the door.  He frowned.

              “Really?  An eyepatch?” he asked.  Stan looked over.

              “You have a parrot,” he pointed out.  Lute flushed slightly and adjusted the stuffed animal parrot affixed to his shoulder.

              “Shut up,” Lute mumbled.  Angie appeared behind Lute.  Stan nodded approvingly at her pirate costume, particularly her tall, dark brown boots.

              “Looking nice, Angie,” he commented.  Angie grinned and adjusted her tricorn hat.  “But, uh, the gun?”  Angie looked down at the shotgun she was holding.

              “Delilah can be part of my costume,” she argued.  “Pirates had guns.”

              “I don’t think they had shotguns,” Lute said. “And also, ya prob’ly shouldn’t bring a weapon into the bakery.”  Angie sighed.

              “Fine,” she groaned.  She stalked away, then returned a few moments later, without her gun. “Come on, fellers, we best open up fer the day.”

              “I’ll be down in a minute,” Stan promised.  Angie and Lute left.  Stan looked at his reflection again.  This time last year, he’d been homeless, living out of his car, on the run from loan sharks.  Now, he had a steady job and a place to stay, even if he and Lute did share a bedroom. He tightened his ponytail and winked at his reflection.

              Not to mention, I make a damn fine pirate.