Chapter 5: Test of All Tests

In an attempt to strengthen their family bond, Monica tasks the guys with looking after each other's sons for a few days.

Just under thirty years ago, Mary and her late husband Max were still trying for a baby. The latter had no luck getting his wife pregnant in spite of the fact that he'd recently gotten his vasectomy undone, but it seemed too soon to raise any concerns about the reversal proving ineffective. One night, he got to work on a meal for the two. Cooking was a shared hobby of theirs and had been one of the main sources of adhesive for their romantic bond; some nights, whenever they agreed to give conception another go, it was always what they did to help ease themselves into the evening. Why, the two loved food so much that they even got married on Thanksgiving, one of the most food-centric holidays in the world.

That night, Max's dinner of choice appeared to be pulled pork tacos. A stainless steel bowl of already cooked pork shoulder, prepared carnitas style, sat to the side of the stove, where he'd just finished caramelizing some onions. Scooping them aside, he reached for an egg to crack into the pan, wanting to capitalize on the trend of putting a fried egg on top of one's supper. However, he fumbled a bit and watched in horror as it broke on the edge of the bowl, releasing its liquid contents onto the pork. Max would've freaked out at this, but he maintained his composure. After all, a budding chef always needed to have a sense of experimentation. Thinking on his feet, he started to chop the onions even more finely than before, tossing them into the bowl and stirring them in along with the egg. He quickly glanced behind him and found a package of red corn tortillas, immediately slipping them into the air-fryer to get them crispy and use them as a breadcrumb substitute, binding the whole mixture together.

Following the delectable scents from the kitchen, a younger, slimmer Mary soon came into the room, dressed in nothing but a pink, magenta, and gold letterman jacket over her brown cotton underwear set. She immediately started to swoon as she saw her husband at work. His fast-paced dedication and intense focus, in the kitchen, bedroom, and everywhere else in between, were some of the main traits she admired about him. Max failed to notice her standing there, continuing to work his magic until he was finished, wiping his brow as he plated that night's dish. The pork from earlier had been formed into flattened shapes similar to fish or crab cakes, sporting a healthy blackened sear on both sides. Two were on each plate, served with drizzles and smears of Mexican-seasoned remoulade and refried beans, and topped with smoked tomatillo salsa and cotija cheese.

The unorthodox dish turned out to be a hit among the two, and it helped spur their idea to open a restaurant together. Thus, Mary & Maxwell's was founded, a diner that prided itself on not serving anything normal. The couple nearly bankrupted themselves just starting their business, and there were some reservations, knowing that some ideas are too creative to catch on, but their leap of faith paid off immensely and their dream came true in spades. It was just a shame that Max would never live to see the place prosper the way it did now.

---

That clever spin on carnitas was the first dish they decided to put on the menu, and it happened to be part of an order that Mary was preparing in the present day.

"Order up!" she called out, smacking the kitchen bell on the windowsill. "I've got an order of the pork cakes, piping hot! …man, we really should've named it something different."

"On it, Mom!" Monica chirped, stopping by with her serving tray.

"Now dearie, I hope you're not selling yourself out by dressing like that." Mary directed a concerned glance at her daughter's wardrobe. Her crop top was baggy, cap-sleeved, and only barely hid her bust, though thankfully a much tighter, long-sleeved one was worn underneath, even if it still only covered half her navel. Accompanying these two were mid-rise embroidered jeans and rollerblades on her feet, the latter of which she always wore to help speed up her shifts. "Y'know, like trying to earn bigger tips by wooing the customers."

"Mom, you know I've always dressed like this, at least since puberty. Now where are those boysenberry cheesecake wontons? Lunch shift's almost over, so there's no need to slack off."

"Hrmph…"

---

Once that day's lunch shift came to an end, the mother and daughter closed down the restaurant, granting themselves a few hours off until it was time to help the boys get ready for the dinner shift. Stripping off her favorite apron, which read, "Try to kiss this cook, and she'll grill your a*s like a sandwich," Mary retired to her room for a power nap, while Monica remained in the living room. She watched Xander bounce a giggling Scott on his lap, occasionally thrusting him into the air and making him laugh even harder. She then looked towards the kitchen to see Hank opening the microwave, removing the glass bowl of vinegar that Mary insisted should remain in there to soak up the food scents, before inserting a bottle of pre-pumped milk for Morty. In the latter's case, he sat blithely on the couch, propped up by the sleeping Leopold as he waited for his lunch.

Monica felt a gentle grin forming on her features, pleased at just how well they were handling their new job as dads. Initially, part of her had held reservations about letting them know about their children, unsure of how they would react and whether or not they would help her take care of the boys. Or worse, take the children and leave. So to see them easily warm up to this new life sent a cascade of relief over her tall, hourglass frame. But there was still a little something… off about the scene before her: they only seemed to display any affection toward the kids they shared DNA with, and seldom did so with each other's sons. If they were supposed to show some semblance of a real family, then something needed to change.

"So, uh, how are you two faring?" she asked after a spell. "Any issues while we were downstairs?"

"Can't complain." Hank shrugged, not taking his eyes off his son.

"Same," Xander also replied, tickling the writhing baby on his lap.

"You know, I can't help but notice that you two only look after your own children," Monica continued.

"That ain't true. I remember there was this one time where I had to change both a'them because Xander slept through their cryin'," Hank replied.

"And outside of that?"

"…yeah, I can't think of another example." Xander rubbed the back of his head.

"Just as I thought. Now I think this is a problem for two reasons: one, if all the parents don't spend time with all the children, then it doesn't make us look much like a family. And two, what if something were to happen to one of you and the other was forced to help with both of the boys?"

"I suppose you have a point," Hank said hesitantly.

"Yeah, but let's say nothing happens to one of us? So what if we each spent more time with our own sons? It's important that we bond-" Xander was cut off by the one-eyebrow scowl Monica gave him, complete with folded arms. Both he and Hank knew better than to dissent from her too much. After all, she'd kept both of their babies and chosen not to cut their fathers out of her life, solely out of the goodness of her heart, and thus owed them nothing. "Oh, alright."

"Then it's settled. Starting tomorrow, you two are gonna start taking care of each other's sons for three days," Monica explained. "I'm sure it'll be a riveting task for the both of you."

Hank and Xander just looked at each other and gulped in unison.

---

It was rather early the next morning when the exercise began, not even sunrise in fact. Monica hadn't been clear about exactly when it would start, but better to get started early. For all the orders she barked out in addition to her unmovable nature, the guys found that she was quite easy to please. All the more reason to try and impress her again this time, and maybe goad her into making the exercise a little less extreme.

The first test started at around four, when one of the boys woke up and started bawling his lungs out. Hank was quick to arise afterwards, having been trained from a young age to always be alert, even in his sleep. But even in the mafia, none of the things that had woken him up were nearly as obnoxious as what he was hearing right now. Being woken up by Morty was nothing new for him, but this time he could tell it wasn't him crying. It sounded too loud and ostentatious to come from his pipes; plus, Morty tended to be more of a fusser than a cryer… so long as diaper rash wasn't brought into the equation, that is.

No, it had to be Scott this time. And unlike other days, he didn't have the luxury of ignoring it. With a grumble, Hank climbed out of bed and trudged into the master bedroom to console him. While there, he noticed that Monica was sleeping with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, obviously to keep herself from interfering with the test. At that moment, he was just thankful she couldn't hear him cursing under his breath, subconsciously wishing his own son would throw a fit so Xander could get in on the suffering too. Sadly, though, that didn't happen this morning. Morty stayed asleep until shortly after everyone else got up, leaving Hank to look after Scott, who kept squirming and squealing, even after he'd been changed and rocked. He liked to think it was just because of their uncommon interactions, but he knew there was more to it than met his eye. Seemed to be the case for just about everything in his life.

But now was not the time to throw in the towel. Hank couldn't recall the last time he'd given up on anything, not counting the day he'd quit organized crime. It took half a pot of black coffee and two helpings of shepherd's pie with the mashed potatoes replaced with hash browns, but soon enough, he was back in full spirits and ready to take on the next few days.

"Y'know, I gotta hand it to you, Hank," Xander spoke, looking up from the newspaper as he sipped his own coffee, laced with sugar, which probably explained the amount of pep he always contained. "You managed to conceive a dude almost as soft-spoken as you are. It felt nice to be woken up by a bike horn and not a train whistle for once."

"Yeah, well enjoy it while you can." Hank scowled, finishing his last bite of breakfast. "I would be surprised at how you're able to raise someone so restless, but then I remembered how he's probably just taking after you."

"Oh, please. Everyone knows he's not nearly as cool as I am."

"Alright, boys. Hope you enjoyed your me time this morning," Monica said, entering the room with both babies in tow, which she handed to their opposite fathers. Not even the lingerie she had on from last night was enough to dispel the embittered look on Hank's face. "I already fed them breakfast, so it's up to you to keep this thing going until lunch."

"You got it, Monnie!"

"Please, don't ever call me that again."

---

Without further ado, the family spent the rest of their time doing their own thing. The two women of the house went downstairs to run the restaurant's morning and afternoon shifts, giving the guys the better part of the day to look after each other's little boys. Today would've been their turn to work the day shifts, but it wouldn't be easy to bond with each other's sons while also doing their jobs. Even Monica wouldn't be that cruel.

Hank found it much easier to reel in Scott than he did around the crack of dawn, but even with a bit more energy in his system, he still found his friend's son to be more than a handful. Scott seemed to get bored quite easily, and there was almost nothing that could keep him occupied. Hand him a toy, and he'd play with it for less than a minute before tossing it aside. Give him a binky, and he'd more than likely spit it out. Try to put him down for a nap, and he'd take a good half hour to fall asleep. To make things worse, he spent a lot of time crying and babbling like a cretin. Just when Hank thought he was satisfied, he would start whining again. Even after putting on a fresh diaper or getting fed. Unsurprisingly, all of Scott's energy called for a larger appetite than the average baby; it could be satiated with enough bottles, but it also resulted in more diaper changes. With that in mind, Hank could hardly fathom how Monica could produce enough milk for him in addition to his brother.

But he had no time to dwell on that; oh no, he was too busy stressing out over how much work went into raising his half-son. Even the act of doing standard baby things for him was such an exhausting process, quite the one-eighty from what it was like to raise his own son. When his own parenting style didn't work out of pure incompatibility, he decided to switch to Xander's and put more energy into his tasks. Despite being at a younger age than Xander, he still struggled with this, as not only did Scott require far more energy than he could possibly channel, but getting too physical ended up putting a strain on his already defective spine. Because of this, he was forced to plunk down on the couch and let his body rest, but sadly, Scott wasn't having it. He let out a series of deafening sobs, repeatedly writhing around on his lap, tugging on his rattail, and even smacking Hank in the face and chest over and over again.

"Hey, uh… are you alright?" Xander stepped into the living room, holding Morty in one arm as he quickly noticed the miserable look on his co-parent's face.

"Your son… is an animal…" Hank breathed out, eyes half-closed.

"Funny. I seem to remember you acting like one when we first met up," Monica giggled as she stepped into the room, having closed down the restaurant for good that evening. "And Xander, you'd better not be helping him. This swap's not over yet."

"Aw, really? I haven't interacted with my boy in a while," Xander replied.

"And you can in just two more days. But as of right now, I'll be taking the boys out to supper." Monica took the babies from each man's arms, eliciting a sigh of relief from Hank as she headed towards the staircase. "Speaking of supper, Mom's cooking it tonight, and knowing her, it should be a good one, so wash up."

"Say, I noticed how huge of an appetite your kid's got on 'im," Hank said after she left the room. "Gotta say, I feel pretty bad for Monica, havin' to work overtime just to make enough for both kids."

"Probably explains why one b**b is bigger than the other," Xander replied with a smirk.

---

Unfortunately, no amount of positive words or even the prospect of a good meal could lift poor Hank's spirits for the rest of the evening. That night's dinner was a dish that Mary referred to as Cajun chicken tsukemen; each person got a bowl containing a thin, creamy and spicy sauce mixed with ground chicken, andouille sausage, minced onions and red bell peppers, and topped with grated parmesan, while another bowl contained angel hair noodles that were boiled but then chilled immediately afterwards. Everyone mostly kept to themselves as they ate, using chopsticks to pick up bites of the pasta before dunking it into the sauce.

"Mmmm, this isn't bad. Certainly unique, which is to be expected from you guys," Xander commented, loudly slurping his noodles without a care.

"Inclined to agree, Mom." Monica nodded. "But uh, last I checked, this one isn't on the menu, nor from that backlog we keep pulling from."

"Oh uh, it's from… ahem, it uh, just came to me one day," Mary replied. "But who knows? Maybe we will put it on the menu someday, although I don't want it to reach Cheesecake Factory levels of excessive."

It was then that everyone turned to Hank, barely able to stay awake as he slowly and silently ate his dinner. He did deem it a culinary marvel, but after a day like today, he was too tired to really express that.

"Yo, Hank. Whaddaya think, boss?" Xander asked, nudging his arm with his fist.

"It's good, I guess…" Hank replied with a loud yawn. "But quite frankly, I think I'm gonna turn in early tonight."

"Suit yourself." Monica shrugged. "Oh, but don't forget to tuck in Scott first."

With a resounding groan of misery, Hank stood up, holding his back as he picked up Xander's child and carried him upstairs. As expected, he took forever to put down. He kept crying for what felt like hours, even though it was only about twenty minutes, and he wouldn't stop squirming every time Hank tried to rock him. By the time he'd settled down, the both of them had fallen fast asleep in the rocking chair, the former almost certainly doing more damage to his spinal column in the process.