Bananun prompt: Lana bakes a heart shaped cake for Mary in the asylums bakery for valentines day and writes on the top of the cake with frosting "will you be my valentine?"
Okay, so, the reason I kept this in my drafts for a while is because I thought it would be cuter to actually upload it on Valentine's Day- so I'm sorry, prompter, if you sent this around about a month and a bit ago- but I hope this is okay!
Sweets lead to sin.
Lana worked in the bakery silently that day, alerting no one that she was there and giving sister Jude, not only the impression that she was finally caving in to her demands, but also under the false pretence that she was there to benefit a charitable cause by baking nothing other than bread.
She hummed a soft tune as she poured flour into a bowl. She sung, not Dominique, but a song she remembered from her life before, when she actually could live. A happy, catchy tune. A smile slowly made its way onto Lana's face, before it turned sad and remorseful. She missed her old life. She missed Wendy, she missed her job. Lana longed for the feel of a fresh breeze against her skin and the refreshment off spring rain hitting hard against the worn pavement.
Lana felt like crying as her memories came flooding back.
She refrained from spilling tears though. Crying couldn't free her from Briarcliff.
And anyway, she had to focus on her task at hand.
Shaking her head, the reporter beat eggs, baking powder, sugar and milk into the flour to create a potion of sponge cake mixture. Pouring it into the set and placing it into the oven, Lana smiled happily to herself. She had never done anything like this before, and probably never would again. She just needed to make an impression.
It was, after all, Valentine's Day.
And with her previous and most obvious Valentine having left her for dead in the sanitarium, Lana had long since found a new person for her desires; sister Mary Eunice. The thought of the young nun sent Lana's pulse at an erratic, almost harmful pace. Her heart warmed and her soul sighed whenever Mary was around.
So, Lana had made the, possibly terrible, decision to ask Mary to be her Valentine.
She hoped the nun even knew what a valentine was.
Lana smelt a heavenly scent arise from the even and breathed it all in happily. She ran over to the oven and checked it was done. A sponge glowed, fluffy and golden in the middle of the worn, dark oven. Lana smiled as she reached out and placed it on the table, helping it escape its confinement in the set. The reporter grinned as she lay the cake on the cooling rack. It was perfect.
Now, for the icing.
As the reporter mixed a concoction of sugars, her thoughts drifted to the scenario of Mary Eunice's reaction. Would she be surprised? Stupid question, Lana thought, of course she would- but would she be pleased? Disgusted? Or even worse, emotionless? No presence of any feeling on her face as Lana gave her the cake would tear the reporter into a million pieces. The thought of it almost made Lana stop entirely. Almost.
The batch of frosting was light and pale pink, a colour never seen in the asylum but Lana considered it to be a welcome change. She took the spatular and gently lay the frosting on the sponge, smoothing and whipping until the reporter was content with it's guise.
Finally, Lana carefully piped Virgin white icing onto the cake- spelling out in swirled, steady letters- "will you be my valentine?"
The reporter grinned at her handiwork. The cake looked inviting and sweet. She just hoped Mary Eunice would like it as much as she did.
/
Mary had just finished securing her coif around her hair when she heard a faint knock on her bedroom door. The nun's brow furrowed. Patients weren't normally allowed in this part of the manor. Hastily walking over to her door she opened it, almost hesitantly, revealing, not a person, but a small, pink frosted cake sitting on the floor. Glimmering with sweetness, it made the nun gasp. It was such an abnormality in the bitter asylum it made Mary smile. Looking closer as she picked it up, the nun noticed it said: "will you be my valentine?" Mary almost dropped the cake in shock, a deep blush arising from her cheeks and a gasp escaping her mouth. Who was this gift from? Mary Eunice racked her brains as to who could've left her such a present. Dr Arden? No, this was too cheesy for his liking, and anyway, Arthur wouldn't ask her to be his Valentine anyway. The thought of it made Mary cringe and shiver. The nun saw him as only a friend.
Could the Monsignor have left it for her? Mary shook her head quickly- that was a firm no for so many reasons. And anyway, if he were to ask her, which of course, he wouldn't, the priest would in no way ask her by icing a cake. Sweets did lead to sin after all.
Try as she might, Mary could not figure out who could have left her the small cake with the big question. The only clue she had to go on was the bakery duty rota and the handwriting in which the message was written. The nun decided to make it her new mission to solve this mystery and reply to the question in person.
The first place to start was the bakery rota. Almost flying out of her room, across the hall and down the stairs, Mary ran into the day room. Greeting everyone who looked at her with a kind smile, the nun practically skipped to where the baking time table was pinned upon the wall. There were only 3 names today, but long shifts. Mary felt sorry for them, being stuck down there on their own all day, doing nothing but labour.
Shaking the thought from her mind, Mary traced her finger along the three names.
Pepper. Lana Winters. Grace Bertrand.
The nun smiled to herself. This certainly narrowed it down, more specifically to one person in particular. Pepper couldn't speak English, let alone write it and Grace, well Grace was far too busy with Kit Walker to even consider another Valentine; which left only Ms Winters. The nun's soul soared higher than the heavens when she even entertained the idea of the reporter having a crush on her.
Mary glanced over to the reporter, who was sat alone, as she always was, smoking on the couch. There was something oddly compelling about someone so fluent in vocabulary. Timidly, the nun walked over to Lana.
"Hi," Mary whispered.
Lana looked up from whatever she was staring at in the corner. Nothing probably. "Hello," Lana smiled back, she tried to tame her racing heart.
"Yes," Mary said confidently, a smile upon her porcelain face.
"Yes?" Lana's brow furrowed at such a blunt, ambiguous word.
Mary froze, her blood had gone from warm summer's day to ice cold winter's night. She hadn't considered what would happen if it wasn't actually Lana who had sent her the cake. Mary's eyes diverted to the table. Lana had been writing something or other, probably about how much she hated Briarcliff. Mary squinted, that writing... It looked so familiar... Mary smiled wider. It was Lana! The same writing was on the cake! Mary's heart skipped and did flips as her soul black and white soul burst into technicolor.
"Yes, Lana, I'll be your valentine," the nun smiled as she bent down and gave the reporter a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Lana smiled. Mary Eunice was a heaven-send.
"How did you know it was me?" Lana whispered, grinning mischievously.
The nun giggled. "Your penmanship is quite unique- especially since you're one of the few who can actually write," Mary said with a smile. "Will you be my valentine too?" The nun asked, hope glimmering in her eyes.
"Yes, of course," Lana nodded. The reporter reached out her hand and grasped Mary's own firmly- intertwining their fingers: white, pure porcelain contrasting with fairly tanned, grubby skin. The pair smiled at each other, as Lana gave Mary's hand a squeeze and Mary held on tighter. Nothing, not even sister Jude, could convince Mary to ever let go.
