A/N: For pip_head_luther who requested this one-shot :)
Sorry for the delay, I recently got a new phone and it was my 18th birthday so I had a bit to drink and then I started college again after a short break, so I haven't had much time to write recently. I hope you enjoy anyway.
BOOKVERSE
Horace awoke bright and early to the sound of chirping birds outside and a ray of sunshine peeking through the curtains. It had been one of the rare nights where he hadn't been caught up in the throws of a nightmare and screamed until his throat burned.
Throwing the covers from his body and shivering at the cool air, he shuffled over to the mirror on the wall to check his appearance. His hair was a little askew, but other than that, he looked perfectly normal. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the calender on the wall and with wide eyes, took in the single day of the month circled with red marker.
It was Miss Peregrine's birthday.
Checking the time on his alarm clock, Horace hurried around the room, throwing on his clothes for the day and brushing his hair. The Bird would be awake in a few hours to make everyone breakfast, so he had to be quick.
Once he was dressed and had tied the laces to his shoes, he practically threw himself out of his bedroom and across the hallway to Jacob and Millard's room.
Without knocking, he entered and rushed over to Jacob's bed.
"Jake," he hissed viciously in the teen's ear, "Jacob, wake up."
"Wha' is it, dad?" Jacob slurred, turning over and pulling the covers tighter to his chin.
"Do I sound like your father, Jacob? It's me, Horace," Horace deadpanned and shook Jacob even harder.
"Horace?" Jacob questioned. "What do you want? It's..." he turned over and pressed a button on his phone, "like five am."
"I know. But it's the Bird's birthday today and I want to bake her a cake."
"A cake? Can't you just buy one?" Jacob muttered, closing his eyes again.
"Buy one?!" Horace screeched, mortified, then clamped his hands over his own mouth. "I am not buying a cake for the woman who has taken care of us all for Bird-knows how many years."
Shuffling came from the other side it the room.
"Why are you buying a cake for the Bird?" Millard's sleepy voice questioned.
"I am not-" Horace sighed, "look, it's Miss P's birthday today and I want to bake her a cake to show her how much we all love her. Do you two want to help or not?"
"Sure, I'm in," Millard agreed and started getting up from his bed.
"Jacob?" Horace inquired.
Jacob topped Horace's sigh with a dramatic one of his own.
"Fine, fine," Jacob said, "but only because I don't want you blowing up my kitchen."
Horace laughed, "me, blow up your kitchen? With my culinary skills? Anyway, it won't be just us three. We need Enoch and Hugh."
"Are we sure we want Enoch? Who knows what dead animals he's been touching?" Millard said.
"Well, obviously he'll wash his hands," Horace pointed out.
"Fine, I'll wake Hugh, Jacob you wake Enoch," Millard decided.
"What? Why do I have to wake Enoch?" Jacob protested.
"Because I said so," Millard tried.
"Fine, but if I turn up to bake this cake without my head, it's your fault."
oOoOoOo
Half an hour later, the peculiars were in the kitchen and surrounding the table full of ingredients. Already someone (Millard) had knocked over the flour and they'd had to spend some time cleaning it up before they could begin. It had also been kind of weird to be able to see Millard's hands and face, if only for a brief moment.
"Okay, we need to be quick about this because the Bird will be waking up soon," Horace started and placed the mixing bowl in the middle of the table.
"I can make sure she doesn't?" Suggested Millard as he held up an item wrapped in cloth, Enoch nodding his agreement.
"No," Horace said with a frown, "we are not putting her into a deeper sleep than she's already in. If she wakes up, someone will have to distract her."
After a couple more minutes of arguing over the subject, they finally came to the conclusion that merely distracting Miss P would be the better option and get them in less trouble.
"Okay, now that that's sorted," Horace threw Millard a look, "we can actually start on this cake. Enoch, I want you in charge of the eggs, and I am trusting you with this. Hugh, you're in charge ot the flour. Jacob, you'll do the butter. Millard, the sugar. And I'll add the milk if it needs it. Okay?"
There were a few murmurs of assent from his tired friends and they all set to work, starting with Millard and Jacob.
Somehow, everything started off alright. Jacob and Millard measured their ingredients and mixed the sugar and butter until it was a lovely creamy mixture (like buttercream) and everything was fine. Then came Enoch's turn.
"So, it's eight eggs," he asked, looking at the eggs in his hands.
"No! Why on Earth would it be eight? Who are you feeding, the Royal Family?" Horace fretted and took the eggs from his hands.
"Hey! I thought I was adding the eggs to the cake!" Enoch argued and tried to take them back.
"Guys?" Tried Hugh, eyeing the fragile eggs.
"You want to add eight! You'll ruin the mixture! You only need four!" Horace hissed.
"Okay, so I'll add four!"
"I don't even know why I chose you to add the eggs! Everyone knows that one egg is the equivilant to two ounces each! And we've added eight ounces of everything else."
"Only you know that, you nerd," argued Enoch.
"Guys, you're going to break the eggs!" Jacob interrupted.
Reluctantly, Horace let go of the eggs so Enoch could add them to the mixture.
With surprising ease, Enoch cracked an egg on the side of the bowl and emptied the contents into the mixture. He repeated the action with the other three eggs until they had the correct amount in there.
Horace blinked in surprise but picked up the whisk and started whisking the batter.
It took a few minutes (and a lot of background arguing between the other boys) before the batter was a lovely creamy mixture.
Self-satisfied and a little bit smug at his culinary skills, Horace and Hugh worked together to pour the mixture into a circular baking tray lined with baking paper.
"It looks good," Enoch muttered.
"It hasn't even been baked yet," Horace pointed out, slipping on a pair of oven gloves.
"So?"
With an eyeroll, Horace took the cake and opened the oven which had previously been preheated by Jacob. He put the cake inside the oven on one of the racks and closed the door.
"There, that's the easy part done," Horace said and pulled off the oven gloves.
"What do you mean 'easy part?'" Jacob asked.
"Now we have to keep Miss P out of the kitchen until it's done," Hugh answered.
"Oh," Jacob muttered, deflating a bit.
oOoOoOo
In the end, the peculiars only just managed to keep their headmistress and carer out of the kitchen. It was hard, but they managed it. Miss Peregrine may have been stubborn, but there was no one more bullheaded than a peculiar child planning a surprise for their ymbryne and trying to distract her.
Jacob lounged against the wall beside the kitchen door, keeping an eye out for any signs of Miss Peregrine. He'd been out on guard duty because apparently he was the best at distracting her. He thoroughly disagreed (truthfully, Miss P kinda scared him a bit), but according to the others, he was good at it.
"Psst, Jacob," Jake turned his head to spot Horace peeking out through a crack in the kitchen door. He had a few colourful, blue smudges on his forehead and cheeks, and looked like he'd been in a food fight in a cake factory.
"It's ready, go get the Bird."
With a grin, Jake nodded and pushed off from the wall to go find Miss Peregrine.
oOoOoOo
"Jacob, I really must insist you tell me what is going on, this instant," Miss Peregrine ordered, pipe in hand but not smoking it. "Yourself and the other children have been acting odd all morning and it's starting to become worrying."
"You'll see soon, Miss P," Jacob told her much to her chagrin.
She huffed, but didn't say anything more, choosing instead to simply follow him through the lavish house.
Eventually, they found themselves stood outside of the kitchen door, Jacob wearing a mischievous grin and Miss Peregrine looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"I'm allowed in the kitchen now, am I?" She questioned with only slight jest.
"Yep," Jake said and opened the swinging kitchen door. He held it open with one hand and used the other to gesture Miss Peregrine inside.
With a slightly raised eyebrow, Miss Peregrine took the invitation and entered the white-themed kitchen.
"Surprise!" A chorus of happy and excited voiced cheered, the noise filling the air.
The peculiar children were all gathered around the kitchen table, the younger ones in make shift party hats, whilst the others had on their best clothes (even Enoch). On the table in front of them was a big, circle cake decorated in blue icing with a shaky peregrine falcon silhouette drawn on in an even darker blue. The words "Miss Peregrine" we're written above the falcon.
"Happy Birthday, Miss P."