Thanks to a certain writer on here - that would be you, Margaret - I ended up writing this story inspired by spiffytgm's dessert challenge while in the process of editing two others. I wanted to get an update posted for one of my in-progress stories before anything else, so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes in either. Everything familiar belongs to Janet. The recipe belongs to Hershey's. The mistakes are mine.
"Babe?" Ranger said, after letting himself into my apartment like I didn't have half the freakin' hardware store attached to my door now to keep people out. "What are you doing?"
I gave him an irritated glance. "Making a cake," I told Ranger. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Trashing your place?"
"Bite me," I said, as politely as I could given the circumstances.
"When and where?" Ranger replied.
No way was I falling for Ranger's innuendo, not today. I glanced around my kitchen instead, seeing it through Ranger's eyes. Hmm, how the hell did I get cocoa on the ceiling? I hope it was cocoa, anyway. I didn't like any of the other possibilities I came up with for it, like dried blood or some other noxious substance left over from a shooting or explosion.
"Why exactly are you attempting a cake?" Ranger said to me.
Why the heck is he here interrogating me instead of catching a dealer, beating a wife-beater, or raiding a salad bar?
"Don't you have an asshole to arrest or a city to protect?" I said to Ranger. "I'm a little busy here."
"So I see," Ranger told me. "But the 'assholes' you're referring to have already been caught, and Gotham is safe for the time being."
I took my eyes off the measuring spoon and caught Ranger's lips twitching.
"Did you just make a Batman joke?" I asked him.
"Yes."
Ranger's attempt at humor wasn't half bad, but I still rolled my eyes before I got back to work.
"So ... the cake?" Ranger pushed, knowing I wasn't going to give him an answer unless he did.
"It's childish and stupid," I said to him, "but I want to show Morelli - and myself - that I can do this. And right after I get it stacked and frosted, I'm going to throw the whole damn cake at his head, plate and all. It's a waste of dessert, I know, but I bet it'll be worth it."
I already said it was childish, didn't I?
"Why?" Ranger asked me.
"Because Joe's an idiot," I told him. "Why else?"
Ranger leaned back against the counter, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. I was just about to warn him not to touch anything in the kitchen because he'd get flour all over his black - not to mention pristine - uniform, but I stopped myself. I know from personal experience that Ranger never gets dirty unless he's in the bedroom.
Stop it, Stephanie, I told myself. You'll never get this cake in the oven if you're busy imagining yourself licking fat-filled chocolate frosting off of Ranger's fat-free body. Shit. I'd have to make the fucking frosting first in order to do that. I'm way out of my league here and, surprisingly, it had nothing to do with Ranger.
"What did Morelli say to you this time?" Ranger asked me.
"After two weeks of not speaking to each other, I went to get the last of my stuff out of Morelli's house, and apparently Joe wanted to make sure I felt just as bad as he was feeling before I left."
"And?" Ranger said to me.
"Joe told me that no guy is going to put up with a woman who's 'too busy' for him, like he did with me. He also kindly pointed out that I'm an over thirty-year-old woman who still needs her mother to keep her bloodstream pumping sugar instead of actual blood. Oh yeah, his parting shot was that I can barely take care of myself and Rex so, without him, I have absolutely no hope of ever raising anything except another hamster once Rex finally kicks the bucket ..."
"Stephanie," Ranger broke in, obviously hearing enough himself, "Morelli can only push your buttons if you let him."
"My head knows that," I told Ranger, "but once my mouth opens, it's too late for maturity. I sink down to his level and start saying shit right back until he shuts up or I'm able to storm out."
"So stay away from him," Ranger said, an odd look in his dark eyes.
Funny, I never put the two together, but Ranger's eyes are actually the color of chocolate cake batter, and with his mocha latte skin, he's as descriptively mouth-watering as he is physically.
"Oh, I plan to," I said to Ranger, getting back to our conversation. "I can't put enough of Trenton between Joe and I."
"What's this really about, Steph?" Ranger asked, gesturing to the mess on my counters.
"Me, I guess. I want to stop seeing myself as the people in the Burg do, and I stupidly thought that if I could just do this from beginning to end once, I can cross it off my fuck up list."
"Stephanie, you are not a fuck up."
"I know, but I do hate Morelli being right about anything. And I do suck at everything in the kitchen except ordering takeout while standing in it, or eating said takeout over the kitchen sink."
I picked up the cocoa container and read the back of it again, trying to remember if I added the baking powder before Ranger walked in. Stupid ... fucking ... recipe. I could have bought three, day-old cakes at the bakery for the same amount of money I shelled out for the ingredients - not to mention all the measuring crap and the cheapest pans I could find - just to make this one stupid, has to be 'from-scratch', chocolate cake.
After a minute of staring at the white powders in the bowl, hoping to figure out if I was looking at baking powder or soda, I gave up and decided that I did add the powder and just threw the salt in with everything else. I could feel Ranger's eyes on me as I mentally crossed off the stuff I'd dumped in the bowl; sugar, flour, cocoa, baking soda, now salt, and probably baking powder. If the recipe isn't fucking with me, I should be able to mix in the eggs, milk, oil, vanilla, and then hot water and have something resembling a cake in thirty minutes. Just enough time to figure out the frosting. Crap. Did I forget to buy the butter for that?
After a quick peek in the fridge while I was getting Ranger a bottle of water, I saw that I do have everything I need for the frosting. Crap, again. Maybe I should've skipped this and just got myself some wine and chips at the store instead.
"Steph, do you think Tank is a good bond enforcer?" Ranger asked, taking the water bottle from me and putting it down on the counter next to him, his attention fixed on me.
"Yeah. Tank's a good everything enforcer. He's almost as scary as you are."
"And would you say Tank being able to cook, bake, or iron, affects how he does his job?"
I sighed. I knew where Ranger was going with this.
"No."
"Silvio has a daughter now," Ranger said to me. "Should he not be a father because he can't bake her brownies?"
"Silvio will be a great dad," I told Ranger. "Brownies or no brownies."
"Tank's figured out a way of keeping himself fed every day, and Silvio found a partner who's strong where he's weak."
"His wife's a pastry chef, isn't she?" I asked, suddenly remembering the details in the email everyone at Rangeman received.
"Yes. Silvio didn't have to change to get someone to love him, Babe. He just married a person who complements him. She makes up for Silvio in areas he struggles with, and vice versa."
"So ..." I said carefully to Ranger, "I need to forget all about injuring Morelli, focus on accepting myself as I am, and find a guy who can bake to compensate for my obvious lack of skill there?"
"Yes."
I paused for a beat, wondering if Ranger was really offering something here. I blew out a nervous breath. Only one way to find out.
"Do you know how to make a two-layer cake from scratch? The icing, too?"
"I know how to make a lot of things," Ranger told me.
No kidding. Ranger can make me feel better when nothing else will, he can also make me laugh without too much effort, and Ranger sure as hell knows how to make love to me.
"Why don't you let me buy you dinner, Babe, instead of forcing me to stand here and watch you destroy your kitchen."
"I'd like that," I said, "but I really want to finish this before we leave. Joe let a lot of insults fly, and I'm not going to add quitter to the list of them."
"Joe's an asshole when it comes to you, Steph."
"He is, isn't he?" I asked. "That's okay, since I was a bitch when it came to him, too. Okay, maybe instead of throwing all my hard work at Morelli's hard head, if it comes out looking at all like the picture on the label, I can drop it off for the guys at Rangeman before we go out to eat."
"They'd like that," Ranger assured me. "But don't be surprised if they ask you to taste it first, even knowing I was here talking you through it."
I smiled at Ranger, picturing a red-faced Hal not wanting to turn down what I offer him, but still terrified of ending up sick because of it.
"I already thought of that," I told Ranger. "I'm going to cut a big piece of the finished cake once we're there, and let you feed me every single bite of it."
Ranger's gaze suddenly sharpened. He understood that dessert isn't the only thing I'm after tonight.