Word count: 100
Pairings: None, really
Rating: PG/PG-13 for Wolfwood's mouth
Wolfwood lit a cigarette and just stared at the blonde through the smoke it released.
Vash was running around the kitchen in a frilly pink apron, a man possessed.
"Not today, Priest," the gunman replied.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Making a cake."
No shit, really? "Why?"
"Because I put off getting Milly a birthday cake, and all the stores are closed on Sunday," came the sharp retort.
The fire alarm went off, the oven smoking. "Damn it," the blonde cursed, opening the oven and burning his fingers.
Wolfwood put a white box on the counter.