Disclaimer: Own Cookie, nothing else.

Pietro arrived home to find the house empty. This was, in his opinion, a good thing. The rest of the Brotherhood had never quite seen it that way. Pietro zipped upstairs to his room, dumped his newly acquired fingerless gloves, (go on, guess who's! Starts with E!) and zipped back downstairs once more.

'I'm hungry,' Pietro thought, 'I wonder if Lance has made anything.' A quick check of the fridge and cupboards told him the answer. No. 'Hunnnngrrrrrrryyyy!' Pietro's stomach whined.

"All right food," Pietro told it. "Nothing edible that's ready made. Maybe I should bake something." This decided Pietro snatched the cook book off the shelf. "Ooh! Best Ever Chocolate Cake!"

Pietro zipped about the kitchen at super-speed , snatching ingredients and bowls at an incredible rate.

"Finishing touch," Pietro grinned, and he flicked on the radio.

Pietro hummed along as he beat butter and sugar, sifted flour and cocoa and mixed milk.

"Oven!" the speedster flicked the oven open and shoved the cake in.

5 seconds later.............

"I'm bored! How long can a god damn cake take to cook? Bake damn you! Bake! BakeBakeBakeBakeBakeBakeBakeBakeBakeBake - " Pietro stopped when he realised he'd been repeating himself over and over and over and over and - well, you get the idea.

'Cake is good,' Pietro reminded himself, 'but cake takes time. 50 minutes in fact.' Pietro leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers over and over in an incessant rhythm. Gradually the white-haired speed demon sped up the gentle drum of his fingers, rolling his knuckles faster and faster and faster until there was only a steady drone, one fingers contact with the counter indistinguishable from the others.

'BoredBoredBoredBored,' Pietro's brain chanted, 'BoredBoredBoredBoredBored - COOKIE!'

"Hey baby," Pietro scooped up the small kitten, "do you like cake too? Is that why you're in here? Or is it because you wanted to visit me? The great and dashingly handsome Pietro?" Cookie just meowed and rubbed her head against the underside of Pietro's chin. Pietro patted her lovingly, then placed her back down.

'Time to check cake,' Pietro thought, 'mmmmmm cake is good. It must be ready now. 50 minutes must be up. AHHHH! Only 2 minutes!'

It was at this point that Pietro's brain went through a serious melt down. He began to count over and over in his head, 'one potato, two potato, three potato - grrrrr! Too slow! OnePotatoTwoPotatoThreePotato - Eureka!'

Pietro's eyes lit up, 'I am too smart! A genius! No, several geniuses! A zillion trillion billion geniuses with extremely good dress sense. Yay for Pietro, demi-god! No wait, complete god!'

Pietro bent down and looked at the cake, and then, he turned up the temperature.

'Chocolate, gimme chocolate! I don't think I can live without it! In a saucer or a shake, or a German chocolate cake, it's chocolate, chocolate, chocolate!' Pietro's brain sang happily. 'Chocolate!"

Pietro had been watching the cake rise slowly, oh so slowly, as his brain kept up it's mile a minute conversation with it's self. Pietro went back to counting at super-speed. 'TwoPotatoThreePotatoFourPotatoFivePotatoSixPotatoSevenPotatoNinePotatoTenPotatoElev-enPotatoTwelvePotatoThirteenPotato - '

He stopped at 13 simply because he was now bored with potatoes. 'I wonder why it's potatoes. They aren't even interesting. They just sit there all round and fat looking, hey, kinda like Freddy! Except that Freddy's squidgy round the edges. Spongy! Like sponge cake! MMMMM! CAKE!' And so Pietro's brain had gone full circle and ended back up at cake.

'Ready now!' Pietro decided, pulling the cake out.

"AHHHH! HotHotHotHotHotHotHotHotHotHotHot!" Pietro ran in a tight circle, blowing on his hands and then flapping them about madly before repeating the whole thing again.

'Gotta ice!' Pietro snatched the melted chocolate and whipped in the extra ingredients. 'Damn, have to wait for it to cool. How can I make this go faster? Ah ha! TWISTER TIME!' Pietro grabbed the cake and sped about the house, up-turning chairs, spreading pillows and magazines, bed sheets and clothing, everywhere. 'Good. Cool now, I can ice!' Pietro zipped back into the kitchen and iced the cake at super-speed. Then he piped on the words, to the best ever, most handsome, gorgeous guy I've ever met, Pietro, from Pietro.

"Why thank you me!" Pietro grinned, and with that he cut the cake.

'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, cake.' Pietro's brain sighed and he was content.

- - -

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE!?!" Lance roared, serveying the messy and chaotic mine field that was the Brotherhood house.

"IWasHungryAndSoIMadeCakeButItTookTooLongSoIHadToHelpItAlongALittleAndIDidLeaveYouSomeSoYouCan'tGetAngryLanceBecauseILeftYouSomeAndPleaseDon'tHurtMe!" Pietro said.

"I'm not even going to ask you to repeat that," Lance sighed, "just clean it up."

"DoesThatMeanYouDon'tWantAnyCake? YesI'llCleanUpButDoYouWantCake? No? GoodCauseIWantCake. ILikeCake. DoYouLikeCakeLance? Huh? DoYaDoYaDoYaDoYa?" Pietro began to jump up and down like a small child.

"I need a giant aspirin," Lance moaned.