Razor was not a baker. He'd never baked anything before. He ate meat, and that was about it. You didn't have to do anything fancy with meat; you didn't even have to cook it if you didn't want to.

"Ha, but it does taste better if you cook it, you have to admit," Bennett said, when he brought it up. "You liked the sliced meat dish I made you, didn't you?"

Razor remembered that meal very well. It had been delicious, rich and hot without being too spicy, and there was enough to fill even his wolf-sized belly. He nodded firmly, dipping so low that the motion almost morphed into a bow.

"I liked it," he said. "It was the best."

Bennett blushed and grinned, sticking out his thumb instead of trying to make his words work.

He did that a lot, Razor noticed. Razor didn't really understand why, but sometimes when they were walking together he would fumble a lot, or lose track of his words. He was very easily distracted. Sometimes he would stop speaking in the middle of a long, rambling conversation and stare for a bit, mouth slightly open, while Razor waited for him to come back to life.

"Anyway, I think we should try it," Bennett said, as they approached the bridge into Mondstadt. "Baking, I mean."

"Why?"

"Uh, well," Bennett said, looking briefly alarmed. "Baking is a good bonding experience!"

He jumped up on the stone wall, ambling along it a little too fast to be idle. It was a bold move for someone who could trip over lying down. But Bennett was strong and carefree and fun, and he never let his bad luck stop him. And Razor would catch him if he fell.

"We don't have to bake sweet things," Bennett said. "You can bake savoury stuff too! I was thinking we could bake some bread, or maybe these twist things that Barbara showed me. They're full of cheese."

Razor knew what cheese was. He certainly didn't hate it, but it wasn't his favourite.

"Bread is better," Razor announced. "We can make bread. Make it together."

"Okay," Bennett said, blushing again.

"Not greens," Razor added. "No baking green things."

"Okay," Bennett repeated, and although he was still blushing, this time he was also laughing so brightly that Razor could only stare.

Perhaps he was a little easily distracted too.

That seemed to happen a lot around Bennett, now that Razor thought about it. And he kept thinking about it as the days went by. It was almost a week before they both found a free moment, and Razor crept into Mondstadt City, still wary of the way people looked at him with a mix of curious delight and fear. Luckily, he did not have to go far through the wandering crowds before he found what he was looking for.

The Adventurer's Guild was a labyrinth of tiny, crooked hallways and cramped rooms. Most of the bustle was internal, people calling out dibs on whichever cots they found, and bragging about their latest spoils. They pushed past each other carrying armfuls of wheat or sweet flowers. Rarely did anyone stay for very long, so there was a certain transient air to the place. But it was warm, and there was a kitchen at the very back of the building, and the whole place smelled like food and fresh laundry.

The kitchen was where Razor found Bennett. He was standing at the stove with two men either side of him. One ruffled his hair, and the other barked a reluctant laugh, arms crossed over his chest. They both spotted Razor immediately when he came through the door.

Razor didn't know any names. Bennett called them all his dads, and never once did his tone change, indicating anything less or more than true affection. He was at a bit of a loss without a name, but the nice thing about not being a very frequent talker was that nobody seemed to expect an introduction.

"Your friend's here, kid," said the reluctant man.

Bennett whirled around. There was already flour smeared on his cheek.

The hair-ruffler laughed. "Be a little less eager if you don't want him to guess," he whispered.

Humans talked loudly, even when they were quiet. Razor had very good hearing. Wolves had taught him well. He heard the man, and he heard Bennett whisper back, "Shut up!" but although every word was perfectly audible, he also knew how humans sounded when they didn't want to be heard. So he pretended not to hear.

"Alright, alright, we're going!" said the hair-ruffler, letting himself be pushed across the kitchen. "You two behave yourself, and save enough of whatever you're baking for all of us."

The reluctant man grunted and left, but not before patting Bennett on the shoulder.

"Sorry about them," Bennett said, once the door had closed shut behind them. "We're lucky it was only two of my dads, honestly. They get kinda excited whenever I have friends over." He paused, and then added, "Probably because this is the first time I've ever had a friend over."

"I like them," Razor said. "They care."

Razor had Lupical. He had friends, like Aether and Amber and Miss Barbara, who healed him sometimes. He had Bennett, too. He had people and friends and a family, a whole wolf pack, and he wanted everyone else to have just as many people in their pockets.

He knew Bennett was an orphan, and that not all the adventurer's liked him. It was nice to see that he still had a loving family anyway. Razor would just have to make sure he never forgot it.

"Ready to bake?" Bennett asked. "I think I've got enough flour."

The flour was still on his cheek. It was scattered over the worktops too, and some of it dusted his shirt. Razor brushed the flour off his cheek with the pad of his thumb, watching a blush rise up in his wake, and smiled.

"I think so too," he said. "More than enough."

Bennett did that thing again, the thing where he went still and wide-eyed and squeaked a bit. He busied himself with the ingredients, sprinting from one end of the kitchen to the other with his arms laden with stuff, and soon the embarrassment faded into excitement. He was much better at baking than Razor; he knew which ingredient was which from reading the label instead of sniffing the ingredients, and he was confident near the stove. He even showed Razor how to knead the dough, pushing it out with the heels of his palms and gathering it up again with his fingertips. It was a smooth, seamless motion, and it looked almost comforting.

"Cats do this too," Bennett said. "There are so many cats around Mondstadt, and I see them kneading things with their paws when they find something soft! Like grass, or cushions that people leave out. Do wolves do it?"

Razor examined his own palms, dusty with flour, and hummed.

"Do not think so," he said. "But is relaxing."

It was relaxing. Much more relaxing than he expected it to be. He shed his jacket early on, succumbing to the heat, and his hair was pinned back to keep it out of the food. It was strange not to wear his weapons, but apparently that was bad manners inside a house. And he felt safe with Bennett, so he didn't mind much. Fine music drifted in through the open window, and he could hear the sounds of bees at work in the hanging baskets, and the faint, tinny noise of the blacksmith finding his steady rhythm. Bennett was a restless, cheerful ball of energy, chattering on as they shaped the dough into little balls to rest over the hot fire.

"And now we wait!" Bennett said, once the tray was in the oven. "Heh, the only bad thing is that bread takes ages to cook. Maybe we should have started with something like pastry? I feel like I've tricked you into spending extra time with me."

He looked away, fiddling with the Vision that hung from his belt. Razor caught his hand and tugged it away, keeping a firm grip on his wrist as he led the way out of the kitchen.

"Huh? Where are we going?"

"Would like to meet family," Razor said firmly. "Spend more time with you."

"Oh, ah," Bennett said. He stumbled, and then righted himself, jogging forward to march beside him. "Are you sure? There's quite a lot of them."

"Am sure." Razor shifted his grip until they were holding hands instead, lacing their fingers together. "Easier," he explained, when Bennett looked at him, cheeks burning. He squeezed his hand. "Lead the way."

"Sure," Bennett croaked.

He took them down to the laundry room, where cloaks and uniforms hung up on lines that criss-crossed along the ceiling. They had to duck underneath trousers and jackets to reach a woman with a kindly, plump face whose name was Marie. She roped them into scrubbing a barrel full of sheets when she realised they had nothing to occupy themselves with.

"I won't give you the socks," she said, patting Bennett on the cheek. "Not on a first date. He's a handsome one, isn't he?"

Bennett made some muffled protests, half-heartedly batting her hands away. They stood opposite each other over the barrel and poured suds in from a box. Razor watched the bubbles form and frowned, thinking hard. Was that what this was? A first date? It didn't feel like one. In fact, the more Razor thought about, the more he was sure this was no different to the other times they had spent together. But if Bennett wanted this to be a date, then maybe the others had been dates too. Which would make this not the first date, but the fifteenth, or sixteenth.

A stick was pushed into his hands. He cast his eyes sideways, to where Bennett was studiously avoiding his gaze.

"You just swirl the water around with the stick to get the sheets properly soaked," Bennett explained. "It, uh, takes a bit of work, but you should be fine." He glanced at Razor's arms and squeaked. "Totally fine!"

Marie chuckled. It was a nice sound, very friendly, but also a little bit teasing.

Razor looked down at his own arms. They didn't look any different to usual, though without his jacket and with his hair tied back out of reach, they were a little more exposed then usual. He pondered the strange behaviour as they scrubbed the sheets clean, but he was no closer to an answer by the time Marie finished chatting and finally set them free.

"You've picked a good one there, Benny," Marie said. "Mind yourself, both of you. And no funny business in the kitchen!"

They were out of the door and flying down the hallway in record time.

"I think that's enough family for today!" Bennett said. "Wanna go check on the bread?"

"Is this a date?"

Bennett stopped dead in his tracks. He must have realised he was still holding Razor's wrist after urging him out of the laundry room, because suddenly he leapt back. Razor's wrist felt cold and bare. Bennett ran a hand through his hair, looking frazzled.

"Ah, no?"

"Not a date?"

"Definitely not a date! Marie just likes to tease, that's all."

"Ah." Razor allowed the disappointment to fill him, head to toe. He wanted it to be a date, he realised. He would have liked some time to plan, but he'd been hoping Bennett would say yes anyway. He shook his head and smiled, still disappointed but not too sad; they could still be very good friends, after all. "That is a shame."

"Yeah, it's—wait, what?"

Razor smiled gently. "We should check bread now."

He set off down the hall. There was the sound of scrambling footsteps as Bennett kicked into gear and raced after him. They walked the rest of the way in silence. He could feel Bennett's cautious, curious glances burning into the side of his face, but every time he turned to smile, or quirk an eyebrow, Bennett whipped around to face forward. It was amusing. A little strange, but very funny.

The bread was ready when they arrived. No plumes of smoke greeted them, and there was even a warm, delicious smell waiting for them. Razor lifted his nose and scented the air. It promised good things.

"Oh my gods," Bennett murmured very quietly. He sprang across the room when Razor looked at him, ignoring the question in his eyes. "Okay, let's get these out! We can put meat in them and they can be meat rolls? But we should try the bread first. Ow!"

He almost dropped the tray, jumping back as it burned his hand. He stuffed his fingers in his mouth and let the tray clatter on the side, his grumbling muffled. Razor steered him towards the sink and stuck his hand under cold water, soothing the burn.

"Do you need healing?" Razor asked. "Barbara will help."

"Nah, it should be fine. I'm all Pyro-proof, aren't I?"

"Still. Be careful."

He held Bennett's hand in the water for a little water, until his fingers stopped rubbing. He fetched a dish-cloth and dried his skin gently, aware that Bennett was biting his lip, flustered by the closeness. He didn't want to overstep. But he didn't really want to back away either. And he refused to let his friend walk around in pain.

"Done," Razor announced, throwing the cloth over his shoulder. "Bread should be cooler too."

It was cooler, and the rolls had sunk only a little in the time it took for them to clean up Bennett's wounds. They sat on the tray, plump little mounds of dough, all crisp and golden. Razor picked one up, checking the temperature, and placed it into Bennett's hands.

Bennett stuffed the tiny ball of dough in his mouth. The smile on his face dropped away immediately. He spat it straight out on the side, where it landed with an ominous clunk. Bread, Razor was pretty sure, was not supposed to have such heavy sound effects.

"How much salt did we use?" Bennett said, sticking his tongue out. "That's so gross!"

"Cannot be that bad."

Razor plucked up a lump of bread and popped it in his mouth. He wanted, almost instantly, to spit it back out again, but Bennett was watching him. His eyes were very hopeful. Something about it forced Razor to close his teeth around the bread and treat it like a treat rather than a trick. He chewed it slowly. He didn't really have a choice; it wasn't the sort of texture that allowed for fast chewing.

"It is…" he said, and stopped halfway through, steadying his breathing. "Different."

"Oh my gods," Bennett said. "It's not different, it's terrible. You look sick! Stop eating it!"

But Razor wasn't sure that he could, since that involved opening his mouth entirely and spitting out the bread. As it was, he could only get his jaw a quarter of an inch open, and the bread was rapidly becoming tough glue in his mouth. Bennett watched in horrified fascination as Razor worked his way through the mouthful of possibly toxic dough, and when he had swallowed, he said, "So, verdict?"

"I like it," he lied. "It's tough. Like meat."

Bennett buried his face in his hands and leaned his hip against the kitchen counter, shaking his head over and over again.

"That was a terrible lie," Bennett said, but he sounded like he was laughing. "I can't believe you ate that. Oh, and we wasted so much flour, too! I couldn't even taste the mushrooms. Maybe the mushrooms were the problem? But the recipe definitely said—what are you doing with that?"

Razor picked up another one of the bread lumps, and took a step forward. Bennett took a corresponding step back. They did it again, perfectly in sync. It was like a little dance, a backwards waltz through the kitchen.

"Razor! I don't want to eat that!"

"Should believe in yourself more."

"I believe that we made some really gross bread," Bennett said, ducking behind the island counter with a wild look in his eye, "and I believe it might kill me if I take another bite!"

Razor darted around the counter and cornered him there, caging him in with his arms and refusing to budge even when Bennett swiped flour at him from on top of the counter.

"Second time is better," Razor promised him, pressing the bread against his closed mouth. "Try again."

"Mmph!"

"Do not waste food."

Bennett made a muffled sound of protest, but it was quickly swallowed up by his own helpless laughter. He collapsed against the counter, flailing about while Razor shoved the bread into his giggling mouth, and the look of disgust on his face was enough to make Razor laugh softly in return.

"You're the worst," Bennett said thickly, teeth working extra hard. "This stuff is like glue."

"Could sell it. Make profit. Pay for more flour." Razor paused. "And then make meat dishes instead."

Bennett couldn't really laugh around the bread without choking, but he gave it his best shot. When he finally swallowed the last of their terrible, disgusting baking efforts, he pulled a face, and said, "Ugh. I'll definitely just buy from Good Hunter in the future. Maybe next time we can grab a bunch of food from Sara and have a picnic instead?"

"I like that," Razor said, nodding firmly. "Good spot. In Wolvendom. Has best view of lake."

"Great!" Bennett cheered. "It's a date!"

His cheerful expression fell away, and he looked horrified. He tried to shift, and then froze. He must have noticed how close they were. It wasn't a problem for Razor, who was used to sleeping in wolf piles and curling up against his pack to keep warm, to keep safe. But humans were different. And this human wasn't used to people wanting to be near him. He got so flustered, so flushed and unsure. It made Razor's heart ache a little bit. He wanted to fix it.

He pressed a little closer.

But then he pulled away again. Bennett didn't want this to be a date, and he was flustered because he didn't want to be close. Razor needed to remember that.

"Sorry," Razor said, putting another step between them. "I forgot. Not a date."

"What?"

"I keep forgetting." Razor bowed his head, faintly embarrassed. "I will do better."

"Wait, what? You want this to be a date? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Razor said. "But you don't. That is okay. I like being your friend too."

"You think I don't want to date you?" Bennett practically vibrated on the spot. "Seriously?"

Saying yes seemed dangerous, especially with the face Bennett was making, like he wanted to shake him or throw him over his shoulder. But Razor nodded warily anyway. He didn't like lying. It wasn't right. And he especially didn't like lying to Bennett.

"Seriously? Why wouldn't I want to date you? You have…" Bennett gestured wildly at nothing, frustrated. "Arms! And flour all over you! I thought I was being really obvious. You look really good like this. And you keep doing this thing where you go all wolf-boy, and it just… what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Supposed… to do?"

"Never mind." Bennett buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Nothing. Forget I said anything. Please."

Razor considered it for a minute. "No," he said thoughtfully. "Don't want to forget. You… like this? Like me?" He tugged on Bennett's hands, but they didn't budge. "You like me too?"

Bright eyes peered incredulously through splayed fingers. Bennett came out of hiding for long enough to gape at him.

"You… gah! Yes, I like you. Too? I like you too? If you like me, then I like you too, but if not then I just like you."

"I do like you," Razor said, thinking it was rather obvious by this point. "I like your hair and your smile. And you always make me smile."

Bennett didn't seem to know what to do with that. He opened and closed his mouth, and finally cleared his throat. "You, uh… make me smile too. I don't just like your arms. I don't even know why I said that. I mean, I do, but I like a lot of other stuff about you, and you're my friend, and you're really cool, and I wanted to ask you if we could make this a date, but I was too chicken."

"I like chicken. Chicken is tasty. This was a date?"

"Maybe?"

They were asking each other a lot of questions, and not giving many answers. He met Bennett's hopeful gaze and nodded.

"This was a date," Razor said decisively. "A first date. We can go to the lake soon. I can kiss you then. Second dates are for kisses."

"Woah." Bennett's cheeks burned. "So none for now then, heh?"

Razor tipped his head to the side, thinking. Wolves liked courting, and Bennett deserved nice things. But it was probably okay to skip a step or two. He pressed close again, placing his hands gently on Bennett's waist, feeling the butter-softness of his shirt. Bennett reached up to grab his arms, almost instinctively, and made a tiny breathless noise.

Razor had never kissed anyone before, but it couldn't be too hard. And it wasn't. The first touch took his breath away. It felt like the whole kitchen went still; the bees stopped buzzing and the music faded, and it was just them, fumbling along, kissing each other clumsily. It didn't matter that he didn't know what he was doing, because he just wanted to get closer, and hold Bennett a little tighter, and kiss him for longer. He was so warm.

"Woah," Bennett said again, when they pulled apart. "Huh, guess I was right. Baking really is a good bonding experience."

Razor laughed. Bennett grinned at him, a little bit shy and a whole lot radiant. They abandoned the bread and sat on the kitchen counter near the open window, sharing thick slabs of spicy ginger biscuits stolen straight out of a glass jar. Every now and again, Razor caught Bennett's hand and held it, under the guise of stealing biscuits straight out of his grasp.

"Hey!" Bennett yelped. "You've got your own! Are you gonna be like this on our picnic too?"

"You mean our date?" Razor shrugged. "Maybe. It will be fun. Should I wear short sleeves?"

Bennett glanced again at Razor's arms, and he must have been seeing something that Razor simply couldn't, because he went bright red and hid behind his hands again. He muttered fiercely, cursing wolf-boys.

Razor nodded. "I will wear short sleeves."

"Oh my gods!"

Thank you so much for reading!

[Word Count: 3,821]