Prompt: Pound cake
Cassandra plopped down on the grass next to Ezekiel, a satisfied smile on her lips.
«You see? You did good. I am an awesome master» gloated the thief handing her a glass of iced tea.
«Teacher. You are a good teacher» she rectified accepting the offer with a grateful nod.
«So you're admitting I'm good, right?»
Cassandra made a show of rolling her eyes, but her smile remained firmly in place.
ooo
Truth was, Ezekiel actually was a great teacher: he knew what he was talking about when he said that the biggest hurdle was the fear of having your sight ripped away, because it's the kind of fear that glues your feet to the ground and kicks all rational thinking out of the window.
That's why that morning he had placed a blindfolded Cassandra at the center of the lawn outside the Annex telling her to just walk.
At first it was bad: she was almost paralyzed, moving one careful inch at the time with her arms flailing wildly around in a desperate research for information; her body had felt funny, as if continually out of balance, and her mind kept on filling the daunting blackness with trees that she knew weren't there.
After a while though it got better, a lot better.
It took some time but by the end of the session she was strolling around leisurely, trusting Ezekiel to keep her from bumping into any obstacle nose-first.
Deeming that his pupil had made enough progress for that day, Ezekiel had demanded rest and food and had dragged her under the shade of a great oak, where the picnic basket Cassandra had packed for lunch was just waiting to be raided.
ooo
«Oi» spluttered Ezekiel with his mouth impossibly full «What's this stuff? It tastes like heaven»
Cassandra eyed the mauled slice of cake that he was holding.
«Oh, that's pound cake. I bake that a lot, the 1:1:1:1 ratio of the ingredients is very relaxing» she explained, tempted to take a bite herself but deciding to to for a cucumber-mayo-shrimps sandwich.
«You bake this to relax? Ok, it's settled, next time you're coming to my place to "relax"» he declared wolfing down another generous slice in two neat bites.
«Pound cake is really, really easy to make. You could try it yourself, if you want» proposed Cassandra, chuckling a bit at his enthusiasm.
Ezekiel snorted as if the mere idea were ridiculous.
«Me? I don't cook. Ever. Unless you count take-out or pressing "start" on the microwave as cooking» he stated firmly like it was something to be proud of.
An image of a caroling, bouncing Ezekiel baking Christmas cookies in a frilly apron popped instantly in Cassandra's head.
«Well» she said without even bothering to cover up her teasing smirk «We know for sure that you can make some seriously yummy cookies. What did you say the secret ingredient was? Oh right...» the smirk turned into a full, impish grin as she quoted:
« ..."baking them with love"»
Ezekiel shot her and offended glare and squared his shoulders like an indignant parakeet fluffing its feathers.
«Situations involving brain-muddling magic hats don't count» he chided sourly «And for that below-the-belt jab, I am lawfully authorized to use your legs as a pillow for my nap» he proclaimed.
Without waiting for her reply he proceeded to lay down with his head resting on her skirt-covered thighs, sporting an ostensive pout.
«Please, make yourself comfortable» grumbled Cassandra, but she didn't actually mind.
She loved how she never felt skittish or jumpy when close contact was involved between them, it was an ease that she shared with a very small number of people.
Like... three.
Maybe.
«Oh I'm comfortable all right» yawned Ezekiel, sounding as drowsy as she felt.
Cassandra looked down on the young thief: sprawled on the grass, a contented glow on his face, an arm lazily draped over his eyes against the light that filtered through the leaves, he was the perfect picture of "not a care in the world".
In a sudden rush of fondness, Cassandra brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead and settled back against the oak grabbing her glass of tea.
ooo
They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, half-dozing in the summer light soaking their bones, Cassandra sitting and Ezekiel resting on her lap; and just as the sun began lower towards the horizon, Cassandra found herself idly hoping that the next time her senses cross-wired while thinking about ratios like 1:1:1:1 they'd bring up that moment: the sweet taste of cake, the cicadas buzzing, the summer sun and a light, familiar pressure on her skin.