"Andy, you're wearing an apron."

The young man looked at his mother incredulously. "What? Why? Baking cookies isn't THAT messy," he protested. But Mrs. Norris held up her finger. "I know you, Andrew Evan Barclay," she said. "It's GUARANTEED to be messy." Andy sighed good-naturedly and shrugged shoulders. "Fine," he consented. He grinned. "But Chucky has to wear one too."

The killer-once-doll-now-human boy opened his mouth in disgust. "What? No. I'm not even going to be baking anything with you, Andy Bar…" his attempt to avoid the Valentine's Day escapade was interrupted when Andy scooped him up in his arms. "Come on, Chucky, let's go!" he crowed, leaving Chucky with no words but a muttered, "Fine. Like I have a choice…" He grouched a bit as Andy tied on a doll-sized apron on him (I can do it myself, Andy. I'm not a damn baby!"), but once the recipe book and the ingredients were laid out on the table, he accepted his fate.

"No, you crack the eggs now," Andy said. He took one of the white ovals and cracked it open in the large purple bowl the boy was holding. "Now, mix it." Chucky growled. "I got it, I got it," he said, stirring the contents with a white mixing spoon. Andy had already combined the dry ingredients, and was waiting on Chucky when a slightly devious idea entered his mind. Gingerly pinching some flour out of the bag, he sprinkled it on the concentrating ginger. "Hey, Andy!" the boy shouted in surprise. "Quit fooling around!" He grabbed some moist dough and threw it. It splattered on the young man's apron.

"Oh-ho! This is war, Chucky!" Andy declared, jerking the bowl so that its contents sloshed over the boy's hands. Chucky gasped, and the food battle began.

It was ten minutes later, and the boys were covered in goo. Only a few cookies had been baked, and none had any frosting. Chucky and Andy, however, looked like the special holiday of love had thrown up on them. "Andy!" the boy semi-whined. "Look at this! Look at me! And you! We're all sticky and… gross!" He shook a particularly thick clump off his hand. "Your mother was right, this is disgusting!" He tried to clean off some of the left over ingredients, but it was in vain. "I'm all sticky and messy…" he groaned.

Andy grinned. "Oh, I can fix that, Chucky," he said coyly, his voice growing husky as he reached the boy's name. He leaned over and sucked the bright pink frosting off of the shell of Chucky's ear. "I can fix that." Chucky let out a sensual gasp, and a lustful look came over his face. "You, Andy Barclay, are NOT a Good Guy. Not at all," he said lowly, putting his arms around the young man's neck.

This erupted a chuckle from Andy. "I'd say it's cleanup time, wouldn't you?" he asked.
***

A few minutes later, Maggie flounced in and straight out of the kitchen. A surprised smile was plastered to her face. "Did... do you?" she began to ask the smiling Karen, how just shrugged, pleased. "I told them," she said. "I told them with Andy, it's going to get messy."