Name: Willow

Title: Bittersweetly New

Cohort/Team: Third/Defense

Words: 1011

Prompt: Character A can't bake to save their life, and Character B is determined to teach them.

It started with a dusting of flour.

A smile, a giggle, a squirming hug while their noses were white with powder, the result of a playful joke. Memories, synonymous with happiness, were all Frank had left of her.

Frank knew that, he had known for a long time. But his memories, so full of innocent cheer that it hurt, only served as bitter reminders of what he had lost. He wasn't good at baking anyway, the only reason he had ever enjoyed it was because of his mother.

Ever since his mother stepped out the door for the last time, a lilting smile the last thing he saw, baking had lost the appeal it offered him. And while he didn't exactly avoid baking, he just never did bake. Baking wasn't an essential skill for him anyway.

It wasn't something he liked to talk about - not that anyone ever tried to push him into telling them. Maybe he'd tell someone one day, but for now, Frank tucked the past away in secret.

Which meant that when Hazel asked him to help her bake brownies, Frank had awkwardly mumbled that he didn't know how to bake. (And while he technically did, he also had forgotten with time.) Naturally, Hazel had insisted upon "teaching" him, saying that baking was easy. Frank, not wanting to refuse, had apprehensively agreed.

Besides, it was time for him to get past his aversion to baking. Brownies were good, and it would be nice to be able to have them whenever he wanted.

"Frank? Can you get the flour?" Hazel was leaning on the counter, squinting at her phone at some obscure cake recipe.

Knowing that Hazel was slightly too short to reach the flour with ease, Frank retrieved it without complaint. He placed it next to the assemblage of other materials they needed, careful not to knock anything over. He didn't want to mess up already.

"What do we start with?" Frank asked Hazel.

"Hmm, I already preheated the oven," Hazel said, "and greased the pan. So… now we just mix everything together."

Frank hoped it was as easy as it sounded. "That sounds simple."

A bright smile flitted across her face as she laughed slightly. "I told you! Baking is easy if you just follow the instructions."

Following Hazel's lead, they mixed flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla extract, and salt together in a large bowl. It was quick and easy, only a little mess was made (Frank blamed Hazel's overzealous use of the sugar).

"Now for the eggs," Hazel instructed. "You know how to crack eggs, right?"

Frank nodded. "Yes, but I'm not too good at it. Do you mind doing it?"

"Sure! I don't mind." With ease, Hazel cracked and emptied the eggs into the bowl, tossing the shells. "Now for the milk and vegetable oil."

Under Hazel's ever watchful gaze, Frank dutifully poured and measured the oil and milk, tipping the contents into the bowl.

"Now we mix until smooth." Hazel glanced at the recipe for confirmation. "Should be pretty easy, right?"

It started out okay. The electric hand mixer was a little finicky; Frank had accidentally set it on the max setting the first time around, which created a mess but it wasn't too bad. After the initial mishap, the rest was easy in comparison. It was tedious, of course, but relaxing in a way.

With careful precision, Hazel poured the batter into the pan and slid it into the oven. Closing the oven door, she set a timer for an hour and turned to him. "Want to start the frosting now?"

"Sure," Frank agreed.

"Frosting is basically sugar and butter," Hazel told him. "And a little milk. It sounds a lot unhealthier if you put it like that, but oh well."

Frank, picking up a stick of butter, paused. "Really?" he asked. "Weird." He imagined eating sugar and butter together, and wrinkled his nose slightly.

They poured a rather obscene amount of sugar into a new bowl and microwaved a stick of butter to soften it. The stick was still not quite melted, and clumped together with the sugar. It didn't look so appetizing, even after they mixed it to the best of their ability.

But of course, that was what the milk was for. Frank, careful not to pour too much in, tipped in what he thought was a spoonful. Next went the tiniest bit of vanilla extract. The frosting got considerably more frosting-like, and Hazel stole a bit to taste.

"It's good," she said, her face smiling up at him. "What color should we pick?"

A glance at the food coloring gave Frank his answer. "Purple… Since it's the only color we have left."

An offended look came across Hazel's face. "Well, you didn't have to put it like that," she answered, pretending to huff. "Fine. Light purple or dark purple?"

"I don't really care," Frank answered. "What do you prefer?"

Reaching for the food coloring, Hazel drummed her fingers against the counter. "Pastel."

The frosting turned out fine - it wasn't anything too special, it was just frosting. As they put the frosting aside, Hazel remarked, "I knew you could do it. Baking isn't that hard, anyone can do it."

"Well, yes," Frank said. "But I'm still not very good at it."

Hazel laughed. "Neither am I. Most of the time I use box mix anyway."

"Wait, what?" Frank asked, incredulous. "So you mean, that one time when everyone was complimenting your cake-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hazel interrupted, giving him a guilty smile that gave her away. "I didn't say anything."

Frank sighed. "If you say so."

The cake turned out just fine - admittedly, the frosting was smeared on rather messily, but the cake itself was fluffy and tasted good. And for Frank's first cake he had made (with Hazel's help) in years, it was more than enough. More than enough to flood the bittersweet memories he associated with baking with happier ones. Peaceful ones.

And while he cherished the bittersweet, the new was just as special.

A/N: I rewrote this a couple of times, and I'm still not satisfied with it. Oh well; I'll just have to deal with my sloppy writing.