Every year at Christmas Locke tried to watch A Christmas Story as many times as possible. Usually he could get two, maybe two and a half viewings before someone changed the channel. In his mind it was a great movie. The whole thing gave him that sense of comfort and he wanted to be Ralphie, to live in that house that had the soft warm glow, and to listen to the radio. As much as he loved his laptop and the convenience of modern technology, Locke was a history geek and the movie was deliciously vague about the specific year it took place in.

The only problem was that this year he had managed to beat his usual record of times seeing A Christmas Story, and it left him with a rather unusual desire. He was in the kitchen, surrounded by pots, marshmallows, chocolate, potato chips, and all sorts of junk food that had been leftovers from attempts at gingerbread houses. Each time he started watching the movie this year he always walked in on the scene where the Old Man and Ralphie change the car tire. You can only hear someone draw out the word fudge so many times before you want it.

"Right, so Lord Google, how do I make this stuff?" he asked, scrolling through the various webpages that his favorite site brought up. So many different sites declared that their recipe was the easiest. The teen had never made any sort of candy, unless you considered sticking peanut butter and M&M's on a stalk of celery candy.

Chase was making his rounds about the Mansion, when his stomach made a most boisterous complaint. He was hungry, which mandated that he gravitate towards the nearest kitchen to solve this problem that had arisen. Chase jogged down the halls, expertly dodging the taller students as he went, and poked his head into the kitchen to see who was there-- mainly, he was looking for someone who could possibly make something for him, since Chase was a kid and couldn't make much without some degree of help.

The only person that the eight-year-old spotted within was a familiar older boy. His name failed him, but Chase clearly remembered him as the trick-or-treating guy, the one who'd worn the pig mask and taken Chase trick-or-treating on Halloween. Chase clearly recalled that he had a gravelly, scary voice and an eye that was a different color from the other, but he also recalled that this older boy wasn't that bad. This older boy was also in the kitchen, which meant that Chase could maybe talk him into helping the eight-year-old to make omething to eat. Chase shuffled into the kitchen curiously, quietly, and didn't stop his approach until he came to the counter.

When Chase arrived at the counter, he anchored himself to the countertop with his small, bony hands, and then used the leverage to pull himself up so that he could see what the older boy was doing. His feet could barely touch the floor, but it was a small sacrifice to be made in the effort to become taller. When Chase couldn't figure out what the older boy was doing by any amount of his own sleuth work, Chase opted to ask.

"Hi," he greeted quietly. Would the older boy even remember him at all? They'd soon find out, "What'cha doing?"

"Hey Kid Death," Locke said, eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop. Chase's actual name was floating around just outside his memory, but he knew the way that those footsteps fell, and remembered the miniature Grim Reaper well enough. He clicked a link to bring up a recipe. "I swear every time I see you there's chocolate involved. Take a seat." Locke turned his laptop around so Chase could see the tempting brown squares of fudge.

He scanned over the recipe and the junk food that he had found left out and had pulled out himself. He had heard of chocolate covered pretzels, and had to admit that they were pretty tasty. It was the mix of the sweet chocolate and the salt of the pretzels. So wouldn't chips covered in fudge be good too? Locke didn't know if the whole solid blocks of fudge would work out well. Already he was having visions of chocolate running rampant in the kitchen. "We're going to make fudge stuffs. If we can keep them hidden in the freezer I bet that they'd be good gifts for Valentine's Day." Being confined to the school meant that Locke had more spare time now, which meant that he had to keep finding ways to entertain himself.

>> "Hey Kid Death. I swear every time I see you there's chocolate involved. Take a seat."

"Chase," Chase reminded the older boy, dropping himself off of the counter so that he could go retrieve a stool. He placed the stool by the older boy, then clambered onto it, peering at the laptop screen as it was shown to him, "I should run into you more often."

Particularly if there would be chocolate involved every time that they saw each other. Chase looked at the screen inquiringly, eyes flicking over the words. It sounded like he was going to get fed after all. The eight-year-old gravitated more towards the images. And, judging by the images, the outlook for getting chocolate was strong.

>> "We're going to make fudge stuffs. If we can keep them hidden in the freezer I bet that they'd be good gifts for Valentine's Day."

"We're going to save fudge stuff until Valentine's Day?" Chase echoed, his tone unabashedly incredulous. Such things were unheard of, in eight-year-olds' terms. That was like suggesting that Halloween candy would last until... well, Christmas, "That's forever away, though."

Chase shifted his weight, still kneeling on the stool, "What will we make first?"

Of course the second that Chase said his name Locke was able to remember it. He could see and hear Chase telling the people who had handed him candy that he was the Grim Reaper, followed by his actual name. It had been funny and the sort of cute thing that his brother and sister would have done. "Alright, Chase. Not Kid Death," he chuckled. Locke went over to the sink and started washing his hands. By now he had gotten use to the layout of the kitchen and could find the things he needed to cook.

Chase complained about how far away Valentine's Day was. The teen just had to smile. Life always was more interesting when you were viewing things through younger eyes. To Chase January must stretch on forever so Valentine's Day might as well be the day after tomorrow. "Relax. I don't think that there's anyplace here that could keep fudge hidden for long.." Not that it made any difference. Valentine's Day was commercialized yes, but it still had that whole romantic, or at least love feel to it. He had nobody that he was in love with, so it felt like a pointless holiday.

"First we have to boil some stuffs down. The chocolate, fudge, sugar, butter..." Locke explained as he grabbed two large saucepans. In one he filled some water and set that to boil. "You want to dip anything in it?"

>> "Alright, Chase. Not Kid Death."

Chase smiled and nodded. Good. Now the Locke knew his name. Or, at least acknowledged that he knew his name-- there was no guarantee that the older boy would call Chase that, but at least he knew. Chase followed Locke to the sink, and also washed his hands-- he didn't need to be told, Chase was the sort to simply copy his elders when he was trying to help them.

>> "Relax. I don't think that there's anyplace here that could keep fudge hidden for long.."

Chase nodded in agreement, and said, "Yeah."

Chocolate didn't survive long when placed in public access at the Mansion.

>> "First we have to boil some stuffs down. The chocolate, fudge, sugar, butter... You want to dip anything in it?"

"Yes," Chase practically exclaimed, readjusting his stool so that Chase could be closer to the action. He didn't know what he wanted to dip in the chocolate, he just wanted to. He was eager to be able to bake, and even more excited about eating what he and Locke baked. He also wanted to help out more than just dipping things in the chocolate too, so Chase made that fact known.

"I want to help."

The glass measuring cup was slid over to Chase. For years it had been just Locke and his dad and the two had fallen into a pattern when it came to preparing meals. As he grew older Locke helped out more and more. Measuring ingredients had been his first ventures into cooking. Now the teen made meals single handedly. "We need three cups of chocolate chips. I'll find us the condensed milk." There had to be some left over from Thanksgiving. Locke always forgot to make the pumpkin pie, so there was always a can around.

"You help out around the kitchen before?" he asked Chase pushing aside random cans of food, trying to find the condensed milk that he was sure was in there someplace. "Making cookies or pasta?" The water was starting to boil a little which meant that he needed to get the rest of the supplies together. Chris hadn't been much help in the kitchen. His brother always had too much energy to be able to stay still long enough. Mai on the other hand was learning how to cook quite well. In the last Skype session she had proudly shown him a hamburger that she had made.

Chase could help. Locke's question was more to determine if he needed to teach Chase the rules for kitchen safety. He didn't want to explain to anyone why the boy had burnt his clothes or chopped of a finger.

The measuring cup was slid over to the eight-year-old, and Chase took a hold of it with two hands eagerly, looking at the lines that were etched into the side with red font with excited eyes.

>> "We need three cups of chocolate chips. I'll find us the condensed milk."

"Chocolate chips, three cups," Chase reiterated, hopping off of the stool and all-but-floating to the freezer in excitement. He popped the door open with only a slight struggle, and quickly found a big bag of chocolate chips. In retrospect, he probably didn't need to take the measuring cup with him, but he had. Chase plucked the bag up and wrapped an arm around it, before nudging the door shut again.

With bag and measuring cup in-hand, Chase returned to the counter. He set the two objects down, clambered onto the stool, and went to measuring. Rather than try and pour chocolate chips from the unwieldy bag, Chase resorted to pulling chocolate chips out a handful at a time and depositing each handful into the cup one-at-a-time. His focus was apparent on his face.

>> "You help out around the kitchen before? Making cookies or pasta?"

"Nuh-uh," Chase said absently, thinking little of his answer, "My mom didn't use to let me in the kitchen." Was that a normal thing? For kids to help cook and bake?

Ok, so Chase had never helped out in the kitchen before. Not really that big a deal. Most kids were like that he thought. "It's cool cuz. Just got to teach you how to be safe before we can do anything really big. First rule is that you don't go near the oven or the stove without me there to help you ok? Water can splash out of the pot, and you don't want to get hit with that. As for the oven, well, no offense, but your arms aren't that long." Right now the biggest safety concern was going to be burns. Fudge only needed to be cut after it was cool, at which point Locke probably would be doing the cutting. Chase was still a little kid, and as cool as Locke might think the kid was, he was going to want to have as much of the fudge as possible.

"Need help with the chips there?" Locke asked, watching Chase fill the measuring cup one handful at a time. Not the most hygienic perhaps, but the boy had washed his hands. Without being told too! It was just taking Chase longer to get the cup full since his hands weren't so big. "It's ok to scoop the chocolate chips out of the bag with the cup. We're going to be making a lot of fudge, and the measuring cup is clean."

>> "It's cool cuz. Just got to teach you how to be safe before we can do anything really big. First rule is that you don't go near the oven or the stove without me there to help you ok? Water can splash out of the pot, and you don't want to get hit with that. As for the oven, well, no offense, but your arms aren't that long."

Chase listened dutifully, nodding his head. Okay, no oven, and no stove. That was alright, he was apprehensive about those two things, anyways. At the final comment about his arms, Chase announced, "Well, I could make my arms longer."

He wasn't trying to be petulant or anything to that persuasion, he was just stating fact. People seemed to forget he was a shapeshifter. If the only thing that was keeping him away from the stove was his size, he could always turn into someone who had longer arms. Not that Chase had any desire to do so.

>> "Need help with the chips there? It's ok to scoop the chocolate chips out of the bag with the cup. We're going to be making a lot of fudge, and the measuring cup is clean."

That was a good point.

"Oh," Chase said simply, smiling. He hadn't thought to do that. He just wanted to make sure he got exactly three cups, so had figured that the best approach would be to add a handful at a time. But, the older boy's suggestion would be much faster. So, Chase followed his instruction and dipped the partially-filled cup into the enormous bag, before bringing out a measuring cup-full of chocolate chips. Chase set the cup on the counter, and cleaned out the little extra that remained, before smoothing the chips down to look at them. Yeah, that was three cups.

He looked towards Locke for his next set of instructions.

Ah yes, the whole shapeshifting thing. If he thought about it Locke couldn't picture anything that Chase could turn into. Want wings? There's plenty of mutants around the school that he could turn himself into. Arm length was probably the least of Chase's concerns. "Yeah there's that, but you got to grow into them, not turn into them. Puberty is awkward enough when you ease into it, no need to jump the gun. Oven, off limits." Not that they were going to be using the oven for making fudge. Just the stove top, but that could be dangerous enough.

Chase managed to produce three cups of chocolate chips. Locke emptied the can of condensed milk into the second saucepan, which he had stacked on top of the boiling water. He took a few chips off the top of the measuring cup. "Taste test?" he asked Chase with a smile, holding up a chip. Before the kid could answer Locke tilted his head back and tossed a chocolate chip into the air, catching it in his mouth. The chip was icy cold, but much less awkward to get caught in the back of your throat than a peanut M&M. "Hmm... I think I need a second opinion. You try one."

Taste tests was how Hugo got Locke into helping out in the kitchen. Meal making becomes more interesting if you get to have tidbits as you made it. Locke planned to get Chase wanting to cook. Better to start learning it young that way you can make yourself food.

>> "Yeah there's that, but you got to grow into them, not turn into them. Puberty is awkward enough when you ease into it, no need to jump the gun. Oven, off limits."

Chase was smiling and looking well-pleased at what he could have done, given permission to use his powers. But Locke still vetoed the idea-- it wasn't the same if he just grew longer arms, because they weren't his. There was a note of truth to what Locke said. Chase had an adjustment period in which he had to get a feel for the form.

The eight-year-old shrugged. He could live with those conditions. Chase didn't feel comfortable with the oven or the stove anyways.

>> "Taste test? Hmm... I think I need a second opinion. You try one."

Chase grinned at the proposed taste test, and nodded his head enthusiastically. Locke tossed a chip into the air and caught it in his mouth... neat trick. Some of Chase's old friends could do that, but he'd never had the coordination to do so as well. It always ended up hitting him in the eye or the cheek... or, if his aim was particularly kind to him, it'd bounce off of his front teeth. Locke asked for a second opinion, and held the cup out towards Chase. Chase grinned and pinched a couple of chocolate chips up, before popping them into his mouth.

Chase nodded, and gave an approving, "Tastes like a chocolate chip to me!"

Spoonfuls of the smooth, creamy butter were emptied into a smaller measuring cup while Chase taste tested the chocolate chips. The boy gave his verdict on them and Locke smiled. "Good. You know sometimes something looks like it's chocolate but it's really coffee flavored." For now Chase was kept content with nibbling on his chips while Locke kept stirring the pot. This was his first dessert that he had made that didn't come in a box with a dough-man printed on the side, or get poured into a pie pan. There were recipes for cookies and pies in a shoebox in California. Hugo hadn't been much for baking though, preferring the taste of Chips Ahoy! to anything made from scratch. This whole fudge thing could very easily turn into a burnt mess.

"Why don't you play us some music while we cook?" Locke suggested to the kid. From the stove came a contented blurbing sound as chocolate, milk, and now butter, all started to melt together and boil. Kitchens always had a comforting feel to them, but Locke had never felt nearly as cozy as he had cooking with his dad and listening to the radio. As always Locke's laptop had it's music playing program open, but he had paused the music upon waking up that morning.

"So were you looking for food, or do you have a candy sense that's tingling?" the Californian asked with a smile. A bit of butter was on his thumb and Locke licked it off. The fudge was melting together nicely, which meant time to prepare things to be dipped. Once again Locke washed his hands off. Better wait for the fudge to cool a little before dipping marshmallows in it. I don't want those melting in too, he thought to himself, pulling out a cookie tray and some wax paper.

>> "Good. You know sometimes something looks like it's chocolate but it's really coffee flavored."

"Ew, really?" Chase gasped. He'd tried coffee, once- it tasted like burnt dirt. He could only imagine if he'd grabbed coffee-chips rather than chocolate-chips, and made a face at the notion. He snuck out a few more chocolate chips and nibbled on them more. Yup, those ones tasted like chocolate, too.

>> "Why don't you play us some music while we cook?"

Chase looked around for a moment, for something to play music on, then realized that Locke was speaking of the laptop. Some people kept music on their computers. Chase slid off of the chair and went to the spot on the counter where the laptop sat, sliding it so that the computer was parallel to the edge of the counter, and bending the screen downward so that Chase could see it. He went to a program that he presumed to be a music-playing program, because it had a music note on the icon. Chase double-clicked it, and by a strike of fortune, had found playlists.

"I don't know any of the songs," Chase announced, looking at the playlist blankly. He'd leave music selection to Locke. The eight-year-old returned to his perch on the chair.

>> "So were you looking for food, or do you have a candy sense that's tingling?"

Chase beamed, "My candy sense was tingling."

There were kids much younger than Locke who enjoyed coffee. Chase did not seem to be one of those kids. ”Well, usually it’s a coffee bean that’s coated in chocolate, but they still look like they’re something tasty, like chocolate covered peanuts.” Somehow Locke doubted that Chase would be hesitant towards candy in the future. Chocolate covered coffee beans still were chocolate covered.

Almost every song written by the Beatles was on Locke’s laptop, along with Dr. Horrible’s sing along blog, Men at Work, and various other things. It hardly surprised Locke that Chase was puzzled by what all was on there. Most of Locke’s music was from before the kid was born, and Chase was too young to see the Saw movies. ”It’s cool Chase. I bet that I’ve got songs older than you on there. Here, this is my brother’s favorite,” Locke turned the stove off and swiveled the laptop back to him. The Beatles Yellow Submarine started to play. He gave the little boy a smile and grabbed a pretzel stick that was promptly dipped into the liquid fudge. Upon pulling the pretzel out the fudge drizzled down effortlessly.