This one's pretty cute and sappy and has a bit about Julie's mom and grief, etc. Sorry I'm a bit late posting today! I've been baking bread for the first time over the past year so that's what inspired this.

The Recipe

Luke was minding his own business, trying to write a song alone in the studio, when a note card fluttered down from the attic. Alex had left the window open, trying to air out the musty smell that had developed in the studio, and the breeze had flung the card into the main space.

Luke stopped strumming and picked it up from the spot on the floor where it had landed. On the top was written "Julie's Bread" and he recognized the handwriting, because Julie had showed him the letter her mother had written her before she died. Immediately, he knew this was important.

Half an hour later, Julie walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her Dad had taken Carlos to his soccer game so she had stayed in bed, sleeping in and enjoying the weekend. She was surprised to find Luke in the kitchen, an apron around his waist, and small heaps of flour on the floor all around him.

"Luke, you're making such a mess! What are you doing?" she chided him, thinking it was another of his silly antics.

With a furrowed brow, he handed her the note card, and he heard her suck in her breath sharply. "This is… wow I really thought we had lost this. Where did you find it?"

"It fell down from the attic in the studio," Luke answered, watching her face closely. He thought he detected her eyes looking a little watery.

She looked up at him and asked, "So you decided to make it? For me?"

Luke shrugged. It hadn't really occurred to him not to make it for Julie. It just seemed like the only thing to do. "Of course."

Julie flung her arms around him, and then looked at what was on the counter in front of him. "You've never made bread before, have you?"

"That obvious?"

"Why don't we do it together?" she suggested.

She showed him how to mix the ingredients together without throwing flour everywhere, and how to knead the dough. Luke turned out to be good at kneading, once he knew what the word meant. As they were waiting for it to rise, they sat at the kitchen table and Julie ate some breakfast and drank tea.

"The recipe is one my mom would make for me every time there was something to celebrate. It's not really that special, mostly just a normal white bread loaf with some dried spices thrown in, but I always knew she was proud of me when she made it. It served almost the same role as cake does in other people's families."

"That's really sweet. Have you not had it since she died, then?" Luke asked gently.

"No, we couldn't find the recipe the first time there was anything big to celebrate, which was terrible. It felt like losing another piece of her, like five months after I thought I'd already lost everything I could of her."

Luke leaned in and wrapped her in a hug. "Well, I'm glad we found it and you get that piece back now," he said quietly in her ear, and she hugged him tighter.

The timer on her phone went off and they pulled apart. "Time for the shaping!" she said, enthusiastically, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. She showed him how to make the top of the bread taut to increase the surface tension and then how to tuck the extra dough underneath and seal it. She was surprised to see he was a fast learner.

"I've always liked doing stuff with my hands," Luke said, when she expressed her surprise. "It's part of why I love music, it's like communicating with my hands. So much easier than words sometimes." He glanced at her and then away when he said this.

They let the dough rise for another fifteen minutes and preheated the oven. When the bread was almost ready to be put in, she dusted the top with flour and scored the top. As soon as she had closed the oven door, she was hit with a handful of flour, which exploded against her shoulder.

She gasped in mock outrage, seeing that Luke had ambushed her and was now giggling to himself. Then she grabbed a handful of flour too, and threw it at him, catching him in the stomach. Before she knew it, they were covered in flour. Luke had the last laugh when he dropped a handful of flour right on the top of her head. This required him to stand close to her and instead of just pulling back, his hand slipped down to her neck.

Julie shivered at the contact. His hand somehow felt both warm and cold; she still hadn't adjusted to the feeling of being able to touch her ghosts. But it felt good, it felt like Luke, and since they had been able to touch, she had associated that unique sensation with the comfort of having Luke around and the calming effect he had on her. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into the strength and comfort of his calloused hands.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, which was soft and tender. She could see that he knew she was in a vulnerable place. She didn't feel scared, being vulnerable around him, but she was grateful she could be when she had to be strong so much of the rest of the time. In a rush of gratitude, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering slightly longer than strictly necessary.

Luke's gaze had turned more intense when she looked at him again. His other hand came up to her cheek, and cupping her face, he leaned in to kiss her.

Of all the ways Julie had dreamed of Luke kissing her, standing in her kitchen, covered in flour, and feeling emotional about her mother was not one of them. But this made it more unique, and it felt more right to her than the cliché kissing in the rain or at the high school dance. This kiss was all them and carried with it the strength of their emotional connection. The kiss, which was building in intensity, communicated all the ways in which Luke wanted to be there for her and the ways in which they had come to rely on each other.

Julie pushed him back against the counter and he slouched a little against it so that he was standing more at her height. They were pressed tightly together and Julie's hands were in his hair when the timer went off.

"Oh, the bread!" she exclaimed, pulling away suddenly, having utterly forgotten about their baking project in the heat of the moment.

She pulled the loaf out of the oven. Luke stood behind her, hands around her waist as she cut the first slice for them. It felt to Julie like the bread was yet again celebrating an important moment in her life.