(2004)
Zack doesn't cook very often. He's... busy, okay? Which is why his kitchen is mostly disused cookware, packages of ramen noodles, and dust. Not that it matters, because he is not often in his apartment in order to cook. Even the non-instant ramen is largely ignored; taking an instant soup to work daily has him on a high sodium diet, but at least it's efficient, and it tastes the same every time, and if for whatever unlikely reason he's craving variety he can always experiment with the ratio of water to broth powder. He eats comparatively infrequently living on his own, insofar as 'above Hodgins's garage' counts as on his own.
That being said, he does know how to cook. It's just that no one's ever asked.
Hodgins doesn't tend to celebrate his birthdays with very much fuss. As much of a self-centered guy he can be when it comes to competition, he kind of hates it when all of the attention is on him. Whether that's because it reminds him of his upbringing is not for Zack to understand; all that matters to Zack is that when Hodgins invites him down to the main house for his birthday this year, it means something. Zack isn't socially developed enough to know what, exactly, but he's sure it's something good. And something good comes with homemade food.
Zack cleans out the deep baking dish and taxis to the grocery store.
It takes him a bit of experimenting and remembering how it goes, but eventually, he turns up to the main house with a casserole in his hands, oven mitts still on, the casserole still hot with a layer of aluminum foil over it to protect it from the elements.
Hodgins opens the door and does a double take when he sees the casserole. "You brought food?"
"I made hotdish," Zack says. "I know you don't like mushrooms, though, so I used cream of chicken. Can I come in?"
Hodgins steps to the side and lets Zack in. "Of course, you don't have to-" He shakes his head. "You didn't have to bring food."
"It felt appropriate," Zack says. "It's still very warm, by the way. I should probably put it down soon."
And Hodgins likes it just fine. It's missing a bit of salt, maybe, and pepper. Zack did make a whole casserole for a social event that consisted of two people, though, so his baking dish gets left behind with a lot of food left in it, and then in time forgotten about.
(2005)
Hodgins calls Zack at six in the afternoon. He fumbles to pick up his phone from beside his current engineering project, puts it on speakerphone and sets it back down. "Doctor Hodgins?"
"Zack," Hodgins starts. "I gotta know how you made that casserole on my birthday."
"It's hotdish," Zack answers. "You don't know how to make that?"
Hodgins lets out an annoyed grunt. Zack hears a snapping sound from his end of the call.
"You're snapping your rubber band. Did I say something offensive?"
"No," Hodgins says, voice tense. "I just wanted to know what goes into it."
"It's easy," Zack says, around the screwdriver in between his teeth. "I can show you how to make it if you want."
"Can't you just tell me?"
Zack rolls his eyes, but keeps his focus on the pile of screws in front of him so that he doesn't let his frustration with his project seep into the conversation. "I can, but we live on the same premises. Wouldn't it be easier for you to learn visually?"
"Come on, man," Hodgins says, and then Zack notices the background sounds - beeping like a motorized shopping cart.
"Wait," Zack asks, "are you at the store?"
"Yes," Hodgins says. "Which is why I wanted to know quickly?"
Zack sighs and flips through the catalogue of casseroles he's eaten in his life. "There's a lot of variation. Cream of mushroom soup, although for yours I used cream of chicken, some kind of vegetable like peas or green beans, ground meat or tuna-"
"You're saying anything can go in one?"
"No," Zack says. "It has potatoes on top. My family always makes it with tater tots." There's a beat, and then Zack asks - "Why are you making hotdish?"
Hodgins hangs up.
Zack shows up at the lab the next day to darkness. He's pretty sure the Jeffersonian is supposed to be open right now, and he's checking the calendar on his phone when he hears a quiet scuffling noise from his and Hodgins's lab.
He shuts his phone again and heads towards the source of the noise, and he is not responsible for the yelp he lets out when the lights turn on suddenly and a hotdish and a cake are on the table and Hodgins is standing behind the table holding plasticware.
After his heart stops trying to explode out of his chest, he makes his thoughts known. "Why is this? What?"
"It's your birthday, man," Hodgins says.
Which is when Zack remembers. "Oh," he says. "Oh. Yeah."
"Is that all you've got to say?" Hodgins gestures around to the food with a plastic fork. "Come on, I bought a cake."
"I'll say something nicer when the blood in my head quiets down," Zack says, putting his phone in his pocket and walking towards the table. "Is this why you called me to ask how to make hotdish?"
Hodgins shrugs. "You made it on my birthday, I figured I'd return the favor. It's, uh. Chicken soup, peas, tuna."
"Tater tots on top," Zack notes. "This is a heavy meal to eat in the morning."
"Some days warrant a heavy breakfast," Hodgins says, handing a fork to Zack. "We've got a lot of work to do today. Which is why I made this the first thing."
Zack nabs a bit of potato with his fork and bites down. It tastes like frozen potatoes. It tastes just right.
(2006)
There's another company Christmas party coming up, and this year Zack specifically put in a request to not be in the facility when it comes, desperate to avoid another lockdown when he's supposed to be going back home for Christmas. Not that he didn't manage to find some fun trapped in the lab with the team, but he'd prefer to spend the winter holiday in an overcrowded family home.
That being said, there is an idea he has for a way to still celebrate the season with the team. He asks Angela to arrange it, because he is not exactly the most sociable, but everybody ends up at Brennan's apartment for an informal, distinctly non-Christmas gathering.
He makes another casserole. Actually, he makes two - one vegan, because Brennan doesn't eat meat. They are labeled appropriately and carefully loaded into Hodgins's car on Zack's lap, and they are driven to Brennan's apartment.
When they arrive, Hodgins has to help carry one to the door. Brennan lets them in, cheerfully notes that it's kind of Hodgins and Zack to bring food they made.
"Zack made both of these," Hodgins says. "I brought a vegetable tray."
Zack picks at the edge of a Styrofoam cup and nervously lingers beside the table where his casseroles sit. Brennan, after finishing a spoonful, smiles. "The texture of the sauce is very good," she says. "It doesn't taste like it's from a can, did you make it yourself?"
Zack nods. "I couldn't find anything usable as a substitute for cream soup at the store, so I called my mom, and she called my aunt, and she called her sister-in-law who used to cook for a vegan client." He pauses for just a moment, thinking. "After some gossiping about said client's manners, she gave me a recipe for a mushroom soup to use."
"Well, I appreciate that you put in the effort to make a vegan version of your dish," Brennan says. "It's very thoughtful of you."
"The hotdish is for everyone," Zack repeats, recalling his grandmother scolding him for trying to get seconds followed by thirds.
Both of the dishes end up staying at Brennan's.
(2007)
Zack drags himself back home to the Jeffersonian the day he gets discharged. Another place where he wasn't made to fit in; it's like the Jeffersonian was made for him.
Everybody is glad to see him, obviously. The reactions verge on patronizing - he's twenty-five years old, and he's being welcomed back in a manner that approaches a kid failing out of college and coming back home - but it's still comforting to know that he's always got the Jeffersonian to come back to.
As long as that lasts.
There's a shortlived 'welcome back' gathering at Hodgins's place, and there is no casserole to be found.
Zack feels like he's been working on a preemptive apology for months. Like every time he works a case it makes up for it, like every moment not spent proving his worth to the group is just the same as a moment spent hurting them. Despite the vague accuracy of the sentiment, he still tries to tell himself it's an overreaction on his part. It's telling that even he knows he's full of shit.
So when his birthday comes around he calls everybody and asks them if they'd like to meet up and do something for it, offers to make hotdish again. They accept. Of course they do; they have no way of knowing that they shouldn't be giving him the time of day.
Zack buys a new deep baking dish and gets to work. He makes a cream soup by hand. He buys fresh vegetables. He grates potatoes himself. It's never been said that Zack is much of an artist, but he hopes that by pouring as much effort into this this one time he can still somehow get his message across through the food.
Hodgins says it's really good. Brennan says that it tastes like he put a lot of effort into it. Angela has one spoonful and then has to pawn her bowl off onto someone else.
Zack tastes it himself and understands. It doesn't taste right. It doesn't taste like home.
(2018)
Zack comes home again. He isn't expecting anything, really. The Jeffersonian proved his innocence with regards to murder, but that isn't a way to go back in time ten years; he spent a decade incarcerated and largely ignored by the group, so it stands to reason that he will not be returning to the friend group. (Not to mention working at the lab - accessory to murder is still a crime, one he is certainly guilty of, and they typically don't allow felons to solve murder cases. Conflict of interest, maybe.)
So Zack comes back home again. At first, home is Michigan. The Addy family is welcoming, but the more time he spends with his family members, the ones who used to lightheartedly poke fun at his profession, whose teasing was an easy to understand marker of affection, who now don't even laugh when he says something about bones, who try to avoid any topics that could possibly steer back to where Zack has been for the last ten years, the more he realizes that home is not here anymore.
So, after packing up all of his things, securing a place to live, and saying goodbye to a grateful family, Zack moves back to DC.
He gets a call minutes after getting into town. He fumbles to answer it through the gloves, pins it between his ear and his shoulder. "Zack Addy," he says. There's no reason to bother with Doctor anymore; anybody who would care knows what he's done, and everybody else doesn't matter.
"Zack," he hears Hodgins say, voice bright.
"You sound oddly cheerful," Zack replies.
"What, I can't be excited because my friend's back?"
Zack tilts his head away from the mic to cough, quietly. "I'm a friend?"
"Of course," Hodgins says. Zack bites back the response - then why did you stop visiting, why did all of you stop visiting.
"Okay," Zack replies. "What is it?"
"You wanna stop by the lab? It's not a work thing, I'm not gonna try to rope you into anything high stakes."
"Now? I just got into town," Zack says. "I'll have to take a cab there. I still have all my luggage."
"Yeah, now," Hodgins says.
Zack sighs and waves a cab down.
Zack shows up at the lab after twenty minutes to darkness. He's absolutely sure the place should be lit up right now. He doesn't bother checking his phone - he beelines straight for Hodgins's lab.
Ah, Hodgins's lab. Last time he was here (when he was supposed to be here), he burnt both of his hands to a fine crisp. When he was here after that, after sneaking out, Sweets drove him back. The more things change, and all that.
He stands in place at the door and waits. True to form, after a few moments, the lights all flash on. The team is gathered around the table. Sitting on the table is a cake and a deep baking pan. Inside sits a casserole with a golden brown tater tot crust.