Left to her own devices with a bake sale and pie competition in the near future, Orihime threw herself into making something of sweet bean paste. A few trips to the small grocer in Chesney proved there was no such ingredient to be found, so she improvised.

It was after checking the mail one afternoon which coincided with Mayes' at her own mail box that Orihime found her inspiration. That was what she called it; Renji wasn't sure what it was yet, but he knew he was on the receiving end of it.

He'd lived through a bout in Eleventh Division, through battling his own captain, and assorted other trials, so he decided willing guinea pig to Orihime's culinary challenges should be something he could weather.

He had second thoughts on that as he watched her vigorously mixing a ceramic bowl in the ever-warming kitchen late the next afternoon, sensing something almost ominous in her soft smile as she incessantly beat the light brown mixture in the bowl.

"If I make little pastries or tarts of different kinds," she said, smiling into the bowl as she rapidly stirred the spoon, "then you can taste them all and decide which are okay. Then we won't have a lot of big pies that aren't ..." the stirring slowed a little, "...very good."

He nodded, leaning against the countertop behind him, watching the bowl that was locked into place against her chest as much as the slight pout that formed at her lips as she had chosen her words. "Hey, I'm up for a challenge," he said, chuckling, pulling at the too warm t-shirt at his chest. "You can't go wrong with..." He stopped, shaking his head, recalling bits of the conversation he'd heard when she'd spoken to the widow at the mail box. "You're not using sweet bean paste, are you?"

She shook her head, glancing at him without breaking her rhythm with the spoon. "But it's close, I think. Mock sweet bean paste. I want to try different varieties."

He wondered how mock, but didn't ask. Watching her mix the batter reminded him that he had been putting off parts of his paperwork. He watched the top of her lowered head as she intently mixed the bowl. "It's just a bake sale and pie auction, right?"

She nodded and set the bowl on the counter, eyeing the large sack of flour and other ingredients lined on the counter. "Sylvi said Charlotte Myers always does well at the pie auction, but I want to enter, too." She pulled a few pre-made mini pastry crust tins closer. "These are just for sampling, so small ones are okay. Widow Mayes said she'd send over a crust recipe for me to use later."

The name Charlotte Myers rang a bell in Renji's mind, and he went to the refrigerator to find the previous day's newspaper. It was curled with humidity and ink smudged from being handled in the warm room earlier. "I think that girl's name was in the news," he said, leaning on the counter next to her again and sifting through the paper to find the article. It hadn't been one of the names he'd been looking for, but the annual picnic was a nice deflection from news on the escaped prison inmates.

She looked to him as he folded the paper and angled the story closer for her to see.

"She's not entering this year," he said, leaning to her as her eyes rested on the black and white photo of Charlotte accepting an earlier year's pie award. "A little less competition, eh?"

She nodded, skimming the article. "Ooh, she made raspberry rhubarb last year."

He set the paper aside and watched her divide the batter into four separate smaller mixing bowls and add in a dollop of what looked to be jam from the other jars on the counter. From his angle he could see the slight shadow on her skin at her collar, a natural shading of cleavage he knew he shouldn't be looking at when she could catch him.

"I read ahead in the paperwork I'm supposed to send to Fourth Division," he said, watching her drop a spoonful of jam-like substance into the last bowl and mix it in. "There are new instructions for the orange vials you're taking," he said, finally deciding there was no easier way to say what he was going to.

She looked quickly to him, eyes widening.

He shook his head. "Just ... different instructions."

She nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the countertop as his hand gripped harder at the edge. "How are they different?"

The heat of the sun coming through the kitchen window seemed to press incessantly on Renji's back as he considered his phrasing. Apparently Isane hadn't read the entire packet of paperwork or else assumed there was nothing in it to give him pause. Maybe not for a medical figure, he decided, but definitely for someone else. Like him.

He shrugged, hoping the sun would quit burning a hole in his back. His agitation was matched by Orihime's reluctance to hear what she knew he didn't want to say. She slowly mixed in the spoonful of jam to the filling.

"Nothing invasive," he said hastily. "Just another step in the paperwork. Just ... visual inspection. By you," he added hastily when her attention flicked to him and then back to the bowl. "The orange vials are a sort of, uh, intermission in the treatment. They don't have much impact," he said, trying to remember how Isane had termed it in her static-laden phone call. "It's to see if any symptoms reappear."

The last term made her sigh, nodding. "I see. Okay."

"You just tell me if any of the same problems come back, like when you first noticed it. Before," he said, easing away from the landmine of visual inspection. He knew she was consciously not looking at him, which was good, he figured. "So, let me know if there are ... changes. Okay?"

"Okay."

For a few long moments silence and heat hung heavy in the kitchen as Orihime beat every air bubble out of the four small bowls of mixture, both she and Renji seeking something to say.

"But the red vials," she finally said, hoping her cheeks weren't scarlet, "are they anything? Are they really treatment? Or just, well, just colored water?"

"No, those are more treatment," he said, realizing he'd crumpled the newspaper article in his right hand. He relaxed it, looking down to see the photo of Charlotte Myers and the Ladies Auxiliary members distorted faces from his clutch. He set it on the counter behind him and put his other hand on Orihime's arm holding the small tart shell before her. "Listen, you just tell me if anything seems different. Any changes. Just like the last week," he said as she slowly looked to him. "I think it's just a test period. That's all."

She nodded, a hint of smile at her lips as his thumb rubbed across her skin, somehow calming the flurry of surprise the lapse in protocol had brought up. "I will."

"Good. Isane said there'd be a second set of vials, but they'll send those later, once you're using the red ones." He felt her skin tense as her fingers pulled the last crust tin closer to fill. "Captain Kurotsuchi wants to talk to Urahara about the next phase. Meeting of the minds, you know."

She nodded, smiling a little less until her eyes went to his hand on her arm.

A knock at the front door brought both their attentions to the next room.

"Stay here," he said, moving away to lock the back screen door before going into the living room.

"Okay."

At the living room's screen door Renji could see Reese standing on the front porch. He sized up the handyman, recalling Mayes' words.

He opened the screen, blocking the doorway. "Widow Mayes was looking for you."

Reese smiled, something Szayel had made him practice lately while inhabiting and alternately possessing him. "Yes, we spoke earlier."

Renji nodded, detecting a fainter smell of cigarettes about him. "What's that?"

Reese held up a ceramic pie dish decorated with blueberries around the border. "The Widow said to bring this over for Orihime to use." He smiled, looking past Renji to what he could see of the kitchen beyond the room. "Is she here?"

Renji scowled at him. "I'll give it to her." He took the pie pan before it was offered, and then looked to what Reese held in his other hand. Immediately every alert bristled in him as Reese raised the two metal blades.

"Oh, these?" The handyman waved the long blades shoulder height, watching Renji's eyes follow. "These are sharpened blades for the mower device. Widow said the ones on your device are probably dull."

Renji wasn't sure what bothered him about the man's demeanor, whether it was the sharp mower blades he seemed to nearly wield or the man's eyes searching out the kitchen. He closed the screen door as Reese was about to step in. "I'll give this to Orihime and meet you in back at the shed."

Reese looked a little disappointed, but stepped back as Renji gave him a warning glance, and then shut the heavy front door.

"Who was that?" Orihime asked as Renji entered the kitchen.

He'd rather have watched her put the small pies in the oven, but instead he set the plate on the counter. "Reese. Widow Mayes sent you a pie thing. Dish. I'll be back in a minute."

"Oh, good. I don't have one and she said she'd lend us one." She watched him go out the back door, and then glanced out the kitchen window at the yard and garden.

In the yard Reese looked back at her, nodding and grinning when she spotted him at the garden. She didn't wave, but went back to preparing the mini pies, one eye on Renji as he met the handyman. She couldn't hear them speaking, but she knew Renji well enough to know his posture wasn't exactly pleased about the other man's visit.

A sudden catch in her chest made her put a hand there, pressing against her left breast as a fleeting pressure passed. She breathed slower, frowning at the pie plate Mayes had lent them. She took a slow deep breath, feeling no resistance this time.

She supposed it was just Renji's news of the orange vials being nothing that made her think of the pressure as a symptom. She shook her head, pulling the plate closer to see the fancy blueberries painted on the ceramic edges, smiling at the recipe for a "Perfect Pie Crust" printed on the plate's inside bottom. She gave a cautious glance out the window to see Renji and Reese at the shed, and then moved from the sink.

She pressed her hand to her chest again, feeling nothing different, no shallow indentation, no sinking or tenderness. "It's nothing," she murmured, picking the collar of her tank top away from her chest to examine the skin there. Nothing was different, no discoloration, no misalignment.

She shook the twinge of pressure from her mind and looked back at the small pies awaiting her attention. Nothing to tell Renji about.

At the shed Renji was watching Reese with a newfound scrutiny. For five minutes the handyman had been talking.

"... anything of that nature," Reese explained, rather well, "is entirely within my realm of expertise. I consider myself something of an inventor for devices. Are you certain there is nothing needing maintenance on the premises?"

Renji scowled at him. "Are you drunk?"

Reese grinned. "Why, no, of course not. Oh, did the Widow tell you that?" He waved a hand toward the house out of sight across the yards. "Yes, I thought I would clean myself out and stop my nicotine dependency. It's very challenging."

Renji nodded, shrugging. "Good for you, but don't ever come around here when I'm not here, and if we need any maintenance, I'll do it."

Reese's smile fell. "But I'm supposed to assist. That is what I do." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Is the washing machine working correctly?"

"Yes. I'll take care of the mower blades. Thanks for bringing them by."

Reese looked down at the spare blades, their edges newly sharpened, and then his glance shifted to the kitchen window, and then the long grass covering the yard. "Is the mowing device working properly?"

Renji stuck his hand out. "Give me the blades. I'll take care of it." His hand closed on the metal pieces as Reese begrudgingly gave them up. "So what did you do? Give up smoking and buy a better vocabulary?"

This time Reese looked at him with a pointed study. "Again, Renji? Vocabulary?" He chuckled, unable to keep his attention from the kitchen window. His dark eyes slid back to Renji. "Oh, quite no. I think bettering one's self is for the best, don't you? Not perfection, but a degree of ..." he paused, watching Renji's scowl deepen. "I guess the smoke clouded my thinking. I feel much better now."

"Good." Renji nodded toward the side of the house. "Tell Widow Mayes thanks for the pie dish."

Reese sighed. "I shall do that." He moved away from the shed, looking to the garden. "Oh, say, if –"

"We don't need any help, Reese," Renji said, following him closely. "See ya."

"Of course."

Reese turned and left around the house, taking the long way around the garden, adding a few comments about weed control that Renji dismissed.

Renji followed him to the side of the house, watching as the handyman intercepted the walk at the front and took it down the drive and across the road. A moment later Mayes' voice shouted at the handyman from her residence about being late, and Renji assumed he was gone.

He returned the mower blades to the back porch and went into the kitchen, greeted by a mixture of berries, beans, and molasses from the oven. Orihime was mixing up yet another bowl of lumpy batter.

"How many pies are you going to make?" He bent to see the small tins in the oven. They all looked pretty much the same to him.

"Just those. This is cookie dough."

He stood and looked over her shoulder at the bowl in her arms. "What kind? Not bean."

"Sweet potato. They're almost like yams," she told him. She set the bowl down and picked up a smaller spoon. "Try some."

Before he could answer, she scooped a spoonful of lumpy gold colored batter and held it up for him.

"Sweet potato, eh?" He took the spoon and ate it as she nodded hopefully at him.

"I thought that it would be the same as peanut butter cookies, except with potatoes." She watched for signs of acceptance on his face, her smile hesitant.

He nodded, swallowing what was an odd but tasty flavor. "I like it. Save some for us; not just the bake sale."

Her smile widened as she held up the spoon in triumph. "I'll make a double batch Saturday morning."

"Good."

A crack of thunder broke through the air, sounding misplaced in the bright late afternoon. They both looked out the window at the hazy, hot sky.

"Sounds like a storm's coming," he said, searching for any sign of clouds amid the tree tops. "Maybe we can get rid of some of this humidity."

She wiped a loose strand of auburn hair from her face, trying to link it over her ear. "I should have waited for a cooler time to heat up the oven."

"It might be even hotter tomorrow."

She sampled the batter from the spoon. "Do you think it has too much pepper?"

He frowned at the bowl. "You put pepper in it?"

She looked up at him. "Chili pepper. Too much?"

"Nope."

She spent a moment dropping the cookie batter onto a baking sheet, her face half shrouded by the ponytail that kept swinging over her shoulder. Renji caught it once and tucked it over her back, mind roving over something that had troubled him since Mayes had brought it up.

"You really want to eat pie with a stranger?" he asked. It had surprised him that she'd want to enter the contest with such a prize at stake, but she'd taken a few bolder steps since her decision about Ichigo and Rukia, so maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

She cocked her head to him, pausing as she dropped the last row of cookies. "Who?"

She resumed dispensing the batter, wiping the side of one cookie that had dripped mixture.

"Whoever bids highest for your pie." He leaned against the counter, seeing confusion crowd the gray-violet of her eyes.

She giggled, shaking her head as she moved with the cookie sheet to the hot oven. "I won't win, Renji."

"You don't have to win, but you'll still have to sit with the highest bidder for dessert."

She put the cookies in the oven, shut the door and turned to frown at him. "I do?"

He nodded as she came back to the counter beside him. "You didn't know that?"

She shook her head, frowning at the idea as her fingers traced the blueberry pattern on the pie plate. "I thought that was just for the winner of the competition," she mused, glancing to the oven. "I didn't know ... so that's what Sylvi meant," she said more to herself.

"You really didn't know that part?"

She sighed, slowly looking to him. "No. Maybe I can just take donations for the bake sale."

He shook his head at the disappointment invading her face. "Go ahead and enter, Orihime. I'll bid." He took her hand as it paused on the pie plate. "If anyone outbids me, I'll just break their neck."

She smiled at his grin, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I will."

She let him pull her closer, conscious of the faint smell of his aftershave contrasting with the cookies, looking farther up as he stood straighter. "You don't have to bid, Renji," she said, still hoping not to dissuade him.

"I want to." He took her other hand, placing it at his side so he could put both arms around her, feeling no hesitation in her fingers as they pressed against his t-shirt. "You think we convinced your friend we're really here together?"

A few replies swept through Orihime's mind, but she didn't say any of them, instead leaning into him as his embrace tightened around her. She let her arms answer his strong hold, pulling him closer as his face lowered, lips pressing to hers in light contact that turned firmer.

Her surprise slipped away with her awkwardness, hands gliding up his back as he anchored her against him, returning the warm pressure of his kiss with a ready response, the quick beat in her chest in no way confused with some vial of remedy. His arm moved beneath her hair, lips a gentle touch on hers that made her breath halt, eyes half closed at the smell of musk on him, wishing he'd made such a move sooner.

Like a year ago.

A loud crash of thunder broke their moment, making Orihime flinch and Renji's arms automatically contracted around her until she nearly gasped. He let his embrace ease, but not allow her to move away.

"Sorry," he murmured, grinning at her blushing smile as the smell of cookies grew stronger.

"It's raining," she said, not looking to the window over the sink, but hearing the soft patter of raindrops begin in the muggy air.

He nodded, letting her ponytail sift through his fingers at her back, liking the fit her body made in his arms. "That wasn't to prove anything to your new friend."

She giggled, hands following the back of his shirt to his shoulders, smiling as she looked to each of his eyes, trying to decide their exact color of chocolate. She couldn't blame all the heat on her cheeks from the oven, but liked his arms secure around her. "I think I should check on the cookies."

His eyes dropped to her lips again, seeing the small smile still on them as her arms lowered to his waist.

His communicator suddenly warbled into life from his back pocket.

"Dammit," he muttered, unlacing one arm around her to answer it.

Orihime reluctantly slipped from him, watching him check the call. He snapped the communicator shut and glanced to her, the pink still on her cheeks.

"Just Isane. I'll call her back in a while." He nodded to the oven. "It's hotter than hell in here. Can you bake the rest of the cookies later when it's cooler?"

She tapped the back of flour bag on the counter. "The recipe says I can refrigerate the dough."

"Good. Let's get supper from town." His hand dropped to the hem of her shorts, tugging on a blue turned cuff. "You'll be in the kitchen enough getting ready for the picnic. We'll bring a pizza back and camp out in front of the TV this evening. Sound good with you?"

She nodded eagerly, smiling at his grin. "Oh, yes."