#cooked

🥟,🍲,🥟

🍲,🥟,🍲

🥟,🍲,🥟

🍲,🥟,🍲

🥟,🍲,🥟

🍲,🥟,🍲

🥟,🍲,🥟

🍲,🥟,🍲

🥟,🍲,🥟

OPERATION: ASK Y/N (PHASE 1)

Asking you out on a date was like a special ops mission.

“POMNI!”

“AHH!” Pomni jolts from her bed, sitting up after being startled by... Caine?

“Caine, w-why are you—?”

“No time!” Snap!

They’re in his office. Surprisingly, for once, Bubble isn’t there.

“Ugh,” Pomni blinks and groans, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, trying to catch up. “…Okay. What’s going on?”

He’s turned away in his chair, legs crossed over the other, with the room ominously dark. “I need your help.”

That alone makes her pause. “Uh... with what?”

“…How do I ask Y/N on a date?”

No joke, no flourish.

“…Oh,” She says, softer now. “You mean, like, actually ask them?”

He slowly swings the chair around to face her, his fingers pressed together with the most serious expression she’s ever seen him make. “Yes.”

He’s serious.

“Okay. Um— don’t overcomplicate it.”

“…Overcomplicate. Right,” he mutters, instinctively reaching for his notebook.

Pomni watches as he flips it open— there are already pages filled. Diagrams. Flowcharts. Walls of paragraphs and graphs with random calculations.

She squints. “You’ve… already complicated it.”

“I prefer the term thorough,” Caine says quickly, scribbling something down. “Now— step one: establish an optimal setting for romance. I was thinking a fireworks display, synchronized to a custom orchestral arrangement played by—”

“No,” Pomni cuts in immediately.

His pen freezes mid-scratch.

“…No?”

“No fireworks. No orchestra. No— whatever that is.” She gestures vaguely at the notebook. “You’re asking them out on a date.”

Caine stares at her, then slowly lowers the notebook like she just insulted his entire existence.

“…Yes,” he says carefully, his eyes furrowing together, “a date! A carefully curated, emotionally resonant, flawlessly executed—”

“No,” Pomni interrupts again, much softer this time, but firm. “Not a spectacle. It's just you asking them if they want to spend time with you.”

There’s a pause, and based on his expression, he is not completely understanding.

“You just need to mean it,” Pomni explains. “You don’t need an orchestra.”

Caine pauses for a moment.

“…Mean it,” he repeats, quieter, a finger tapping against one of his bottom teeth. “That’s all? Really?'

“That’s all.”

“No grand reveal?”

“No.”

“No confetti cannons, or—?”

“CAINE.”

“Okay, okay! No confetti cannons!” He leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest.

Then abruptly, he straightens. “Alright! Excellent! I’ve got it!” His confidence snaps back into place, bright and electric. “Simple. Direct! Genuine! I will execute this flawlessly!”

“Just try not to—”

“Thanks, Pomni! I won’t let you down!”

Snap!

OPERATION: ASK Y/N (PHASE 2)

...Of course, before ultimately popping the question, he practices in the mirror several times.

Caine poses in front of a full-length mirror, a rose in one hand and the other placed dramatically on his chest.

“Hello there, circus frie— no, no, that's too formal.”

He clears his throat, restarts. “Hello! Would you—” ...only to break off once more.

“Nope, too stiff.”

“Y/N, Would you care to accompany me on an evening of romantic inten— nope, definitely too much.” Again.

“Would you perhaps consider— ...no, sounds like a contract.” And again.

“HEY! Y/N! DATE ME—”

He freezes and stares at his own reflection for a moment, even startling himself for a second.

“…Okay, maybe not that one,” he says, slowly lowering his arms.

The room goes quiet.

...

Caine stares at his reflection for a moment with his posture less theatrical than usual.

Pomni’s words linger in his head: You need to mean it.

For a moment, Caine doesn’t move.

Then, slowly, he straightens up again. “…Right,” he mutters to himself. “Simple. Direct. Genuine. I can do that!"

Caine spends an absurd amount of time trying to find the “right moment.”

Which mostly means he keeps almost doing it.

During the adventure? Too public.

In the courtyard? Bad lighting!

At lunch? Jax is there. Immediate failure.

...Then he strikes a golden, once-in-a-millennium idea!

Maybe he will need those confetti cannons after all.

OPERATION: FAILED SUCCESSFULLY

Of course, after all that planning, overthinking, rehearsing, and emotional warfare, the actual confession does not go as planned. Not even a little.

One afternoon, Caine snaps everyone into one of his newest adventures— a full-blown racing event, complete with brightly colored karts (specifically designed for each person), an absurdly overdesigned track, and way more chaos than necessary.

Naturally, it’s a disaster.

Jax drives like he has a death wish, ending up sideswiping Gangle and Zooble in the process of making it to the finish line on the last lap. Ragatha nearly crashes into a decorative sign.

Pomni, somehow, ends up being way more aggressive behind the wheel than anyone expected. And through it all, Caine is absolutely insufferable over the announcer system.

By the time it’s over, everyone is dropped into a much calmer little “cool-down” environment Caine had prepared afterward— a cozy café tucked away in the middle of the adventure map, all warm lighting, soft music, and little drinks already waiting at the tables.

He's a genius.

“What a show, my talented racers! Time to reward everyone with a relaxing evening at the café, with definitely nothing else planned!

It’s supposed to be a nice break.

And, more importantly, it was supposed to be his chance.

Everyone’s too busy talking over each other about the race to notice him lingering nearby, trying to find the right moment to pull you aside.

“Pomni, I never thought I’d see you on the road like that,” Ragatha says, still half-laughing. “That was insane.”

“I panicked!” Pomni defends immediately. “Jax hit me with a shell or whatever that thing was!”

“It was funny!” Jax says, grinning into his drink.

“It was attempted murder! You ran me off the track!” Pomni snaps back. “I almost crashed!”

“That’s the point. I go for the win,” Jax continues, leaning back in his chair. “And you eat shit.”

Meanwhile, Caine is standing just a little too close to your chair, trying and failing to look casual. He opens his mouth once. Closes it. Then tries again.

“Y/N, if I could perhaps borrow you for just one brief, non-alarming, entirely normal—”

And then Bubble floats in. “Oh! Are you finally asking Y/N on that date?”

Everything stops. The music in the background, the employee NPCs freeze, and all the machinery noises stop.

Utter devastating silence.

Pomni goes still, absolutely horrified by what she'd just witnessed. Ragatha’s eyes go wide, her hands cupping her glass of iced coffee as she gasps aloud. Jax practically folds in half over his café chair.

Caine freezes like he’s just been shot, smacking a hand over his own mouth even though he didn’t say anything.

It’s over. Oh, it’s so over. They all know.

“Bubble,” he says, with terrifying calm.

Bubble blinks, still wearing a huge grin like nothing happened. “What?”

“You have,” he says slowly, “exactly three seconds to leave my line of sight.”

Bubble: 😀

You turn in your seat to look at him. “…Date?”

And just like that, there’s no escape. No backup plan. Just everyone staring at him.

Jax is already losing it, literally shaking in his chair. Pomni looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole on his behalf. And Caine— poor, doomed, deeply unfortunate Caine— has no choice but to suffer.

...

Then, in one horribly abrupt burst out loud: “YES! Fine! Yes, I was trying to ask you on a date! Preferably in a manner that was significantly more suave than this.”

Jax makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a choke. Caine ignores him with every ounce of strength he has left.

His eyes stay on you now. And despite everything— the humiliation, the chaos, the complete destruction of all his careful planning—

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this badly.

…

And you’re grinning.

At him.

Not a sympathetic, judgmental, or teasing one— more like a satisfied one.

“Why didn’t you just ask?” you say, a grin tugging at your lips as you lean a little closer. Your fingers gently tug the sleeve of his still-on black-and-white checkered referee jacket.

Ragatha immediately turns away and awkwardly lifts her drink to her mouth for a sip. "..."

Then, just to make absolutely sure his brain short-circuits, you add, “The answer is yes, by the way.”

She spits it out.

Caine snaps toward you so fast it’s almost comical.

“WHAT?!” His entire body jerks upright so violently it looks like his spine got replaced with a spring.

“Really?!” he blurts, voice cracking right up into the stratosphere. “You mean— truly?! Sincerely? Genuinely? With full awareness of what is happening right now?!”

“Yep.”

There is a beat.

Then Caine absolutely loses his mind.

He points at you. Then at himself. Then at you again. Then both hands just go everywhere at once, flapping uselessly like he’s trying to conduct an orchestra mid-emergency as he laughs aloud.

“YOU? Choose... me?! Me?!” he sputters. “You picked me?! Out of— out of everyone here?! Voluntarily?! Under no pressure?”

“Yes, Caine.”

Then, without warning, he spins in a full circle, grabs both sides of his head to stop it, and blurts: “Well, this is off-script.”

Jax snorts. “Aren’t you always off-script?”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” Caine snaps at him. “This was supposed to be elegant! It was supposed to be perfect! There were phases, Jax! Phases! The perfect sunset, the perfect atmosphere!”

“I HAD A TIMELINE!” he shouts, scandalized. “There was a reveal, a dramatic emotional cue! There was... there was supposed to be romantic music and—”

Bubble gasps. “Ohhh, and the confetti?”

“NO, BUBBLE, NOT THE CONFETTI—”

BOOM!

A cannon somewhere in the ceiling fires, somehow shaking the entire café, blasting a violent storm of glittering, holographic heart-shaped confetti into the café.

Everyone screams in unison.

“NOOOO!” Caine shrieks, shielding his face from the falling paper hearts like he’s under attack by the enemy. “IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO GO OFF UNTIL THE HAND-HOLDING PHASE!”

Jax is doubled over laughing. “You had a hand-holding phase?!”

“Caine, I told you not to do the confetti cannons! It was supposed to be simple!” Pomni sinks into her chair in disappointment and shame.

Ragatha covers her mouth, torn between horror and laughter. “Caine…”

“No, no, this is— this is—” he gestures vaguely, pacing in a tight circle, throwing his arms around like he’s attempting to swim for his life. (To be fair, he is... emotionally.) “T-This is structurally unsound romance execution! It's ruined!"

“You’re covered in confetti!” Zooble says flatly.

“I KNOW!!”

“AND YOU—” Caine whips around so fast he nearly spins out, pointing at Bubble with scandalized fury. “YOU are no longer permitted to assist in any romantic operations! Never, ever again! You are banned! Banned from love!”

Bubble still floats there like: 😀

Jax is finally able to speak through his laughter, wiping tears away from both eyes. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

Caine clamps both hands over his jaws.

“Oh, this is— this is catastrophically embarrassing,” he groans into his gloved palms. “I need to go to... to...”

And then— he peeks through his fingers and sees you smiling at him.

He just… stops.

Stops the freakout, stops the panic in his chest. At least, long enough to actually think about something other than the embarrassment. His shoulders shrivel and his hands lower.

“You’re still smiling,” he says, like this is somehow another unexpected variable.

“Yeah.”

That somehow hits him. For the second time. Even harder.

He whips back toward you so fast he nearly trips, and somehow still manages to look wildly, helplessly excited underneath all the fluster.

“That was really cute and all,” you start, pushing yourself up from your chair, “that you were trying this hard to impress me.”

“I-...” he slowly relaxes. “You... think... it’s cute? You think... I’m cute?”

“Well, yeah!” You chuckle. “I always knew you liked me. It was obvious.”

Caine’s lower jaw drops straight through the floor.

Literally.

“You... knew?”

“We all knew, dumbass,” Zooble mumbles.

“…Oh.”

“…But listen, I like you, too.” You go ahead and blurt it out already. “I meant it. Let’s go out on a date.”

Jax immediately makes the loudest fake gagging noise known to man. “I think I’m gonna puke. This is so gross.”

“Jax,” Ragatha hushes, “shut up!”

“No, no, I’m sorry, this is just so revoltingly sincere I almost threw up.”

...

There is awkward silence once again.

“So, uh... I guess it’s time to get ready. For the date.” You break the silence.

“Oh, right! Right.” Caine stammers nervously before swining his cane, opening a portal to teleport everyone back to the circus.

“Ahem... Farewell, my racers! I’ve got a DATE to get ready for!” he announces on full blast before disappearing instantly with a snap.

Everyone is quiet.

“…Well that was... an experience,” Jax says, breaking the silence. With a sigh, he turns to walk through the glistening portal. “I’m going to sleep. Have fun with the date or whatever.”

FIRST DATE

— Okay, so, first date! Shouldn’t be too hard to plan, right?

— Honestly? Caine never planned this far. He was so focused on making the proposal perfect that he finds himself blankly staring at his own reflection.

— Wears his best suit of all time: THE BLACK SPARKLY SUIT (oh yeah, you know the one). You deserve nothing but perfection, and he wants to make a good first impression.

Something the reader doesn’t know: he polishes his teeth and eyes beforehand. Not with a toothbrush, I’m talking with a full-sized handheld car polish buffer. Gotta keep ’em clean and shiny!

— Spends an absurd amount of time trying to decide what kind of date you’d like best. Not what he thinks is best for you— someplace you’d actually enjoy. He cycles through dozens of ideas before finally settling on something that feels special.

Fancy candlelit dinner? Nah, too formal.

Fireworks over a digital skyline? No, no, too much pressure.

A quiet walk through a pretty little custom-made world?

…Okay. That one stays.

— Rose in hand, he tries very, very hard to act smooth when he comes to pick you up. And for about five seconds? It actually works... then you smile at him and his entire thought process just completely derails.

He had a full greeting prepared, but forgets all of it the second he sees you.

Ends up just blurting: “YOULOOKVERYNICE!”

“…Caine, I have nothing else to wear. This is just... my normal outfit.”

— ABSOLUTE GENTLEMAN. Offers his arm for you to grab on the way out of your room. He stands up straighter, talks a little too formally, keeps trying to casually compliment you despite his blatant awkwardness.

“Still— you are looking particularly— uh— exceptionally— aesthetically—”

“…Pretty?”

“…Y-Yes! That one!”

— Once you’re both there? He keeps checking to make sure you’re having a good time. Constantly. I mean, every few minutes, in a “please tell me I’m not ruining this” kind of way.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Do you like this?”

“Would you prefer a different ambiance? Do you not like the swans?”

— You assure him you’re enjoying yourself.

— Naturally, the date doesn’t go so perfectly. Walking next to your romantic date in the middle of the night? The swan props malfunctions nearby. Romantic music involved? The music cuts out at the worst time or glitches.

And honestly? That’s what makes it fun.

Instead of everything falling apart, you laugh.

— In that moment, when he realizes you’re having fun even when it’s imperfect? He’s relieved.

— Be careful, he’s fragile. You bat those pretty eyelashes at him? Caine is momentarily stunned. Oh, and the first time you casually touch him during the date? He nearly glitches out.

Could be his arm, his sleeve... or even better, his hand. Doesn’t matter where— whatever cool composure he managed to scrape together is gone immediately.

— If you let him hold your hand again? Oh, he is DONE for. He tries so hard to play it cool, but his fingers are so careful when they lace with yours, like he’s worried he’ll somehow ruin the moment if he moves wrong.

He tries to hide it, but keeps sneaking glances down at your joined hands like he can’t believe it’s actually happening.

Meanwhile, his hand is literally trembling in yours. He swears he’s okay.

— By the end of the date, he’s less focused on impressing you and more on being near you. Sure, the night started with him trying to orchestrate a perfect, romantic experience, but honestly, it didn’t need one.

In the end, he’d be perfectly content just sitting beside you in comfortable silence if it meant the date didn’t have to end yet.

— Does not want to say goodnight. At all, actually. Even when you two are standing outside your bedroom door, he keeps dragging it out in the most painfully obvious ways possible.

“Well! This, um... I guess concludes the romantic evening!”

“I guess it does.” You smile.

“…Very successful evening, I may add!”

“Uh huh.”

— Bro still doesn’t walk away. For a moment, he just stares at you wide-eyed, unable to move his legs for some unknown reason.

Then, after a small pause, you ask softly:

“…Do you want a kiss?”

Caine goes still. Not dramatically like before— it’s more like his entire system genuinely stalls out for a second.

“I—”

And that is apparently all he’s got.

His shoulders stiffen. His posture straightens a little too much. He glances at you, then immediately away— then back again like he’s not sure where he’s supposed to be looking.

Obviously, the answer is yes.

He just clearly was not emotionally prepared to say it out loud yet.

“…That,” he says at last, voice just a touch higher than usual, “is… a very important question.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well?”

“…Yes.”

And somehow, that tiny little answer is more sincere than anything else he’s said all night.

“… Can you kiss?” you ask purely out of curiosity— and definitely not like you wanted to test it out for yourself.

“Er— uh...” Caine sputters.

“I mean, physically. You don’t have lips.”

He opens his mouth, only to close it. Very good point.

“…I— I could try,” he whispers, clearly paranoid about his surroundings all of a sudden, glancing at the walls around him. “I’ve never... kissed anyone before.”

Aww.

You grin. How cute... honest, but cute.

Then he adjusts his jacket with sudden urgency, visibly starting to sweat again.

“Though, in my defense,” he says quickly (maybe in an attempt to save his dignity), “this is not exactly a design flaw I anticipated becoming relevant!”

You chuckle softly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

That gets his attention immediately.

“No! I mean—” He attempts to save whatever is left of this moment. “No, I do. V-Very much so!”

Both of you lock eyes with each other once more.

All is quiet.

...

Then, slowly, Caine leans in.

Carefully.

Like he’s trying not to ruin something fragile.

There’s the tiniest hesitation right before he reaches you. He gives you one last pause, like he’s giving you every chance to stop him if you want to, just in case.

But when you don’t?

He finally closes the distance.

Sure, it’s awkward and a little clumsy— mostly just him pressing his teeth against your lips. But surprisingly...

It’s soft.

When he pulls back, it’s only by a few inches.

His jaws open slightly, just so his eyes can peek through.

“…Was that,” he asks quietly, “acceptable?”

This makes you laugh as you pull away.

“That was cute.”

. . .

“Well, um,” you say, glancing at the watch around your wrist, “I’m going to go to sleep.”

Caine is hesitant to let go of your hand, but once he does, he awkwardly fiddles with the hem of his glove.

“Goodnight.” You turn away, pushing the doorknob open as you glance back one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Night!”

Once again, Caine finds himself standing in front of your bedroom door. But instead of nerves, the only thing on his mind is disbelief.

Then, very slowly—

he turns around and immediately freezes.

Because down the hall...

Gangle is peeking out of her door. Wait, hold on. Not just Gangle.

Pomni is halfway leaning out of hers, too, both eyes wide.

And Ragatha is very much not subtle about it, fully standing in the doorway with both hands gripping the frame.

All three of them are staring at him in SHOCK at what they just witnessed.

. . .

“…You nosy little—!”

Pomni points at him instantly. “YOU KISSED Y/N!”

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did,” Ragatha says, already covering her mouth with both hands like she’s trying not to squeal. “Oh my gosh!!”

Gangle makes a tiny, delighted noise, clasping her ribboned hands together. “Aww… that was cute!”

“HEY!” Caine immediately straightens, one hand flying to his chest in outrage. “That was a private interaction! A confidential exchange! A classified emotional event! How dare you—”

Ragatha leans forward a little more, eyes practically sparkling. “Wait— was that your first kiss? Please tell me that was your first kiss.”

“…No,” he says far too quickly.

The hallway goes silent.

“I SAW IT!”

Bubble pops into existence right above his shoulder.

Caine shrieks, jolting so hard he nearly levitates off the floor, whipping around so fast he almost loses his balance. “BUBBLE?!”

Bubble is absolutely beaming. “You kissed them! With your little teeth!”

“Wait, your teeth?” Pomni narrows her eyes.

“I DON’T HAVE LIPS!”

Pomni falls to her knees, one hand slapped over her mouth as she tries... and fails not to laugh.

Ragatha physically turns away, shoulders shaking. “Oh my God.”

Gangle lets out the tiniest, muffled squeak and ducks halfway behind her door like that’ll somehow hide how utterly delighted she is right now.

Caine straightens abruptly, brushing at his sleeves like he can physically smooth the situation back under control.

“That is not the issue here,” he snaps. “The issue is that the four of you have somehow transformed a deeply personal moment into a hallway spectacle!”

Bubble gasps. “It was a very good hallway spectacle!”

Ragatha lowers her hands just enough to grin. “Okay, but… was it nice?”

"I—" Caine, in an attempt to throw a wall up between them, looks away entirely. “…That is not information you are entitled to. None of your business!”

“Oh my gosh, it was,” Ragatha squeaks.

Gangle clasps her ribboned hands together again. “Aww…”

That does it!

Caine points at all four of them with deep, trembling offense. “You know what? That’s enough. I can’t take any more of this!”

Pomni immediately loses it, practically coughing up a lung. Ragatha frantically covers her mouth again, while Gangle squeaks and pulls her bedroom door shut.

“Yes! Retreat! GO TO BED!” Caine blurts, backing away down the hall. “Goodnight! Goodbye! This conversation is over— forever!”

Snap!

He’s gone.

“…I told you guys he liked it!” Bubble chirps.

_________________________________________________