A watched pot never boils. But a pot containing a sizeable batch of stew intended for dozens of people, sitting over a low flame, and covered with a sturdy lid...that's a different story. This particular pot was more than eager to pitch a fit the second it was left unattended. Thick waves of foamy broth bubbled over the edge with alarming speed as the lid jostled helplessly.

"Ohh...no! Nononono, noooo—!"

Annette groaned as she struggled to contain the mess. Bits of potato and carrot began to spatter across the kitchen and landed in her hair.

"Wow, it smells great in here. What's—oh. Oh no, Annette! What happened?"

"I-Ingrid!" Annette flustered at the sight of her comrade. "I swear, I was paying attention this time!"

The young woman strode across the kitchen with an air of authority and immediately shifted into damage control. She tossed a tea towel over to Annette, then turned her focus towards the bubbling pot. "How did this even manage to overflow? The flame is so low," Ingrid marveled with a frown. "I'm actually impressed."

"Smells great?" Sylvain peered around the corner and hung back. He seemed more than happy to watch Ingrid manage the mess without getting directly involved himself. "Methinks it smells like disaster."

"Very helpful, Sylvain," Ingrid sighed as she mopped up the foam running down the edge of the pot. "Are you just going to stand there and gawk, or are you actually going to be useful?"

"You ladies seem like you're handling things just fine! It wouldn't do me any good to cut the show short."

Suddenly the lid rattled even more violently than before, then launched itself across the kitchen. Ingrid narrowly dodged the projectile with a nimble sidestep as it whizzed by, barely missing a few strands of her blonde hair. The lid struck its mark with a resounding gong.

"Ineffective."

The party stared in silence. Dedue stood unflinchingly in the doorway, the pot's lid resting in a crumpled heap at his feet. Not a single dent or scratch marked his breastplate.

The color drained from Annette's face, and she immediately rushed over in a frenzied panic. "Ohmigosh. Ohmigosh, Dedue, I-I'm so, so sorry!"

"I am fine," he calmly replied. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes!"

"The lid isn't all right…" Sylvain reached down and lifted the scrunched remnants of the pot lid. He turned it over in his hands, then looked back at Dedue and let out a low whistle. "Man, you really are impenetrable."

"I will accept that as a compliment."

"Well, it certainly wasn't an insult."

Ingrid shook her head as she finished wiping her hands clean. "I was able to salvage most of the stew and set it aside. Is there anything else I can do? Sylvain and I were on our way to work in the stables before lunch, but I don't want to leave you behind if you still need help."

"No...I'll clean the rest up," Annette sighed. "Thank you, Ingrid."

Sylvain leaned against the kitchen wall with his hands behind his head. "Ah, there's nothing comparable to the beauty of watching women work together. What teamwork. Maybe you two are better suited to take care of stable duty today instead after such a display."

"Ugh," Ingrid flashed him a scowl. "You're not getting out of chores that easily. Let's go," she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the kitchen. Sylvain's protests continued through the halls until it was quiet once more. Dedue remained standing off to the side as if uncertain what to do. Despite his impressive stature and stony expression, Annette could sense he felt unsettled.

A lone bubble in the pot of stew rose to the surface and popped, breaking the lingering silence. Annette sighed and slumped over. All her earlier motivation for kitchen duty was rapidly deflating. "I can't believe it. I thought I was making such great progress, and then…"

"Annette, are you injured? Did you burn yourself?"

"N-no, I'm fine…" she groaned and covered her face in embarrassment. "Only my pride is wounded…"

"I am certain you will recover. No one here will harshly judge you."

"Maybe so, but...Dedue, I took all your advice to heart! This time I was certain I was paying attention and keeping watch! No negligence!"

"I believe you," he answered without hesitation. Dedue's posture eased slightly after another pause, as if he were carefully weighing his next words, "My advice was merely meant to be taken as a preventative measure. Sometimes we cannot anticipate the unexpected, no matter how much we prepare."

"I guess so…" Annette sighed again and began folding the tea towel she used to wipe down the mess. "Actually, no. That's not entirely true. I've been distracted," she shook her head. "So maybe I really wasn't as attentive as I thought before."

"I see."

"I suppose that means I wasn't following your advice as closely as I thought after all, huh?"

Something indiscernible briefly flickered across his countenance. "I am also guilty of this."

"Huh?"

"Your advice to me. As of late… I am having a difficult time remembering to smile."

"Oh...oh no Dedue, please don't feel bad!" Annette wrung the stained tea towel in her hands. "I never intended for my advice to be something you should force yourself to do!"

"I wish to smile more. If it means seeing the smiles of others, it is a worthwhile effort."

"That doesn't mean you have to do it all the time," she tsked. "What good would it be if a smile wasn't authentic? That's not what I meant at all!"

"Yes. Likewise, my advice was about paying attention to your surroundings, which is not the same as encountering surprises."

"Exactly! So—w...wait."

The smallest hint of a smile teased at the corner of his lips. The meaning behind his words slowly sank in. Just as her advice was not meant to apply all the time, neither was his.

Oh, Dedue…

"If you're trying to make me feel better, you succeeded," she couldn't help but giggle. After all the recent stress from their latest mission, it felt good hearing reassurance. "And I think I know why you're having a difficult time smiling…" The image of Dimitri's harried face came to mind. As the war continued to drag on, it was hard not to reflect back on simpler, happy days and the carefree time spent in the company of her classmates before everything changed.

Dedue quietly picked up the damaged pot lid and ran his thumb along the edge. "Yes," his smile from earlier was replaced with something more pensive. "Is this why you are distracted?"

Why I'm distracted…

She was suddenly wringing the tea towel in her hands again. The scowl of a certain ill-tempered swordsman immediately floated to the surface of her thoughts. "Oh...um… no, not exactly. I mean…"

Guilt nagged away at the back of Annette's mind. What began as a kindly visit with an offering of tea and a song managed to once again spiral into an argument. There didn't seem to be any malice behind Felix's assertions, but she still couldn't help herself from yelling. Except after this argument, she felt guilty, a new and very unwelcome sensation.

It was hard to decide what exactly was going on in her stomach. Anxious butterflies? Part of her wanted to immediately run back to the infirmary and apologize, but it didn't feel appropriate. The other part wanted to run and hide and wipe all memories of every single song from his mind. It was easier to simply do nothing and proceed as if they never spoke.

But it was becoming difficult to concentrate, more difficult than she thought possible. The discovery of her father's presence at Garreg Mach and his subsequent refusal to acknowledge her in the hallways was difficult enough. Annette thought nothing would be more agonizing or distracting than that awful passing encounter ages ago. After all those years working towards securing a referral, the tireless all-nighters studying to score higher than anyone else at the magic academy, the training and battling and everything in between...finally the very person she sought after all along was within her reach but felt farther away than ever before.

But for some reason Felix of all people was proving to be even more distracting...albeit in a more dizzying, bewildering way. The bubbling pot of stew was only one more incident in a long line of embarrassments. Thankfully no one was around to watch her walk into a wall, and her mismatched socks were easy enough to conceal, but…

I'm more than distracted, I'm a mess!

A low, metallic ting rattled Annette from her thoughts. She looked up just in time to see the pot lid restored to its former, unwrinkled glory in Dedue's hands. He turned it over, admiring his handiwork.

"How… how did you do that?"

"What?"

"You… unfolded the pot lid, Dedue!"

"I only did what needed to be done," he quietly set the lid back atop the pot of stew. "I damaged the lid, so it was my responsibility to repair it."

"But it wasn't your fault!"

"No, but it still felt like the right thing to do," Dedue answered. His expression softened. "I did tell you that no one will harshly judge you for the mess. Or are we no longer talking about the stew?"

"I...I think I owe someone an apology," Annette admitted. "I really shouldn't have yelled like that at all…"

"I see. So this is not about the stew."

"No, but—oh! That gives me an idea! Dedue, what's a tasty savory dish with lemons?!"

"Lemons…?"

"Yes!"

"I will need some time to think."

"That's fine!" Annette felt her cheer returning in full force. "I'm sure whatever you come up with will be great! Ah, but it's just about time for lunch, and I promised I'd meet Mercedes!"

A tiny smile crossed his face in return. "I will take over kitchen duty from here," he nodded as she gathered her things and hastened out the door.

Dedue, you're a genius! This is the perfect idea!

The sound of her footsteps across Garreg Mach's courtyard were light and full of purpose. For the first time since yesterday's mission, Annette finally felt her focus returning. Her mind began to whir into action as she plotted her next move. A decent apology meal would more than suffice as reparations for shouting, and depending on the ingredients, it might even have the additional benefit in serving as an immune booster if Felix was still feeling unwell. But most of all, it would firmly cement his interpretation of her song as being more literal and less metaphorical.

Because literal meanings were easier. Literal meanings didn't make her lightheaded. Literal meanings didn't give her butterflies in her tummy. Literal meanings meant lemons and honey, not—

Her footsteps slowed as she approached the courtyard. A familiar tune hummed overhead. A very familiar tune. Annette felt her breath catch in her chest and suddenly ducked behind the hedge, then peered through the branches.

Felix rounded the corner, his gait steady and his sword lightly tapping against his hip with each step. Although the sound was faint, his idly hummed tune was instantly recognizable. Annette wondered if he was even aware he was humming. But even more surprising was the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips. Humming was one thing, but smiling was even more uncommon.

A louder set of footsteps approached and drowned out the sound of Felix's humming. Professor Byleth sprinted up the cobblestone path and came to a halt in front of the swordsman. Despite his frantic running, his expression remained cool, and somehow he didn't even manage to break a sweat.

"Professor." Felix stopped and gave Byleth an acknowledging nod. His fleeting smile was gone as if it never happened.

"Are you busy?"

"I…" Felix frowned. His eyes darted over to the dining hall. "I was on my way to get lunch before training. Why?"

"I'm inviting you to tea."

"Tea time? You just invited me to a meal earlier with Ashe."

Byleth stared back. "Exactly. So why are you getting lunch?"

"B-because I'm hungry, why else?"

"Excellent. Tea time it is."

If Felix was attempting to mask his discomfort, he was doing a poor job. Her heart ached. Annette immediately sensed his unwillingness to accompany Byleth to tea, but she knew it was hard to say no to the professor. She briefly contemplated leaping from the bushes and offering him a bail-out, accepting the tea party invitation in his stead. But that would mean admitting to spying on them, which most likely would make Felix even more disgruntled.

The swordsman cast another frustrated glance in the direction of the dining hall and sighed. "First choir participation, now tea. This better be worth my time."

"It will be."

Annette pressed herself against the hedge and winced as the sharp branches needled into her back. The last thing she wanted was to get caught eavesdropping. There was a pause before Felix sighed again, then two wordless sets of footsteps departed in the opposite direction from where she hid. This time there was no humming.

After what felt like an eternity holding her breath, Annette finally exhaled. Her heart was racing.

That...that was my song. The same one from last night.