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Chapter Nine. Applesauce Pie.

It didn't seem that difficult but Beth had learned that the easier the recipe seemingly was, the more that could go horribly wrong with it. Still, Beth read it and then read it again and looked over what she needed and what she had and she thought that this was something she might be able to do. No harm in trying. Well, actually there was harm because it wasn't like she could just run down to the grocery store for more supplies if she spectacularly failed at it but still, if she didn't try, she wouldn't know if it was even possible and the more she could add to their diets, the better.

Learning to make her own yeast and becoming pretty good at it, it had helped Beth and Daryl immensely. They had a huge amount of flour in their supplies and Beth had read that if they ever ran out of their white flour, they could grind their own flour from various nuts. Acorns were plentiful. They would be alright. Beth told herself this frequently. She and Daryl would be alright for however many years they had going for them. Beth baked a loaf of bread or biscuits about every other day or every two days and it was a comfort to both of them that even if they had no other food, at least they would have bread.

Daryl had a cold – a runny nose and scratchy throat – and Beth forced him to stay inside for the day. He had frowned and grumbled but Beth immediately noted that he didn't argue with her or stubbornly go outside anyway which let her know that he really wasn't feeling one-hundred percent. As she read the recipe and began working in the kitchen, Daryl sat himself on one of the stools they had at the counter, sharpening his knives and watching her.

There was a fully mature apple tree growing in the neighborhood and from it, they had made their own sauce. Nothing like Motts. It was just apples boiled and mashed down until it all looked like slop with the tiniest bit of sugar added. They stored it in jars in the basement and Beth fetched one now. From the biscuits she had made the day before, she sliced each biscuit in half and laid them down in her pie dish. She then covered it with a layer of the applesauce, sprinkling it with sugar. She then laid the other half of biscuits over that. It said to repeat as often as she wanted for as many layers as she wanted but Beth figured she would start with just a single layer because if it wasn't good, she would have hated to waste more than she had.

To finish it off, she would then sprinkle brown sugar on the top layer along with some cinnamon if so desired. Well, obviously she would add cinnamon. It was funny but cinnamon had actually become some a favorite of hers and Daryl's, she did her best to find ways to add it into her recipes if it would make sense. Cinnamon was one of those things they had discovered on their runs as being left behind if a place was already raided. It just wasn't thought of by people when looking for supplies.

"Oh!" She suddenly exclaimed as her eyes scanned the recipe one more time. Daryl lifted his eyes to look at her and she gave him a smile. "I have to end it with a layer of applesauce. Almost messed that up." She then took her spoon and spread applesauce over the top layer of biscuits. "Phew. That could have been bad."

Daryl snorted and went back to sharpening his knife. "Thought it was something serious."

Without missing a beat, she leaned over and thumped him with her spoon, getting applesauce on his shirt. He snorted and plucking the bit of shirt, he brought it to his mouth and sucked the applesauce off. Beth screwed the lid of the applesauce nice and tight and went to place it in the kitchen's pantry. She returned with a rock-hard bag of brown sugar and one of the jars of cinnamon. She knew that the brown sugar wasn't as good or fresh as it could be – obviously – but she had a supplies of bags of it, nonetheless. She held it out for Daryl to take and without needing her to tell him, he knew what to do with it. He stood up from the stool and as hard as he could, he threw it down on the floor. Even though she knew it was coming, she still jumped. He picked it up again only to throw it to the floor once more.

"Lemme know," he said, handing it to her, and she smiled.

"Thank you."

The brown sugar was looser now and she carefully cut the bag open, testing it with her fingers. Working it a bit more, she was able to crumble it and was now able to sprinkle it over the applesauce. She wasn't sure how much to add. It just said sprinkle so Beth added enough for it to be just covering the top sauce. She then sparingly dashed the cinnamon just to have that flavor.

"Now what?" Daryl asked.

"Now, to the fire. I have no idea for how long. It just says until warm which is obvious but maybe it won't be."

Beth carefully carried the pie dish to the fire already blazing in the hearth in the family room. On the top rack over the flames, she slid the dish onto it and then took a deep breath. It had all seemed easy enough and the ingredients and the way she put them all together hadn't sounded disgusting and had all made sense so maybe applesauce pie would be good.

The brown sugar was supposed to melt and make a crust on top of the applesauce, which sounded absolutely delicious, and Beth stayed in the family room, keeping watch over the pie, making sure the bottom biscuits didn't burn but making sure that the pie warmed the entire way through and the sugar melted.

"Daryl, can you bring me a fork?" She asked after ten minutes. Her oven mitts rested on a hook on the side of the fireplace and she slipped them on now. She brought the pan to the edge of the rack and the fork appeared over her shoulder. "Thank you. Now, can you stab it in the center for me. Just stab it and bring it back up. Don't bring any of the pie with it." Daryl leaned over and she watched him follow instructions. "Now, carefully, let your tongue test it. Is it hot in the center?" Again, Daryl followed her instructions and when he let out a moan, she knew it was done. "Alright then," she let out a laugh.

She went to go get a serving spoon, two plates and another fork for herself and she and Daryl settled on the floor. She scooped them each a piece of pie – smiling at how messy it was – and Beth echoed Daryl's moan when she took the first bite. It was an apple pie but it wasn't and it was one of the most delicious things she had ever eaten. The world had ended, walkers were everywhere but here, in their safe and warm house, Beth and Daryl were eating applesauce pie.

She looked at him and smiled a little to herself. She wouldn't want to be sitting with anyone else, eating this. And Daryl lifted his eyes to look at her and he gave her a little smile, too; almost as if he was thinking the exact same thing in that exact moment.

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That night, after having potato soup and another scoop of applesauce pie each, they laid on the floor in front of the fire, kissing, their breathing getting heavier with each passing second. She did not care about his cold. At all. She would gladly take it as long as they did not stop. They were wearing far too many clothes, in Beth's opinion. She felt Daryl's hand starting to slide down the side of her body and sweep over to the front of her pajama shorts with the little bow she had tied with the strings, her back arching at his touch.

He barely lifted his lips from hers. "Gotta have some more of that applesauce pie," he murmured to her and Beth moaned at the words, feeling so flushed that had nothing to do with the fire, and now, wet, as well. She kissed him hard and parted her legs a bit more. And her response was all Daryl needed before his hand slipped inside her pajama shorts.

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THANK YOU!