(Author's Note: As of Chapter 11, the rating on this fic will need to change to M. Either that or I'll edit it for a T rating, and then make the unedited story available at my LJ. I'm not sure yet which way I'll go.)

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"Hawkeye, I don't know about this," B.J. said as he studied the recipe book. "We can just buy a sheet cake from the bakery. That'd be good enough. Erin wouldn't know the difference."

Hawkeye stopped hunting for baking powder long enough to give B.J. a pointed look. "Are you saying you don't think the two of us can bake a simple cake? We're surgeons, for God's sake. No cake recipe is going to confound us."

B.J. grinned, "All right, all right. I'll try anything once."

Finally locating the baking powder, Hawkeye gave an enthusiastic nod. "That's the spirit, Beej. We can do this. Now, where the hell do I find the vanilla extract?"

"Beats me. It's your kitchen."

"Well help me look, because I don't have any idea." They hunted around, alternately bumping into and stepping around each other, until finally B.J. came up with the vanilla extract.

"Ta da!" he said, holding it up, but when Hawkeye reached for it, he yanked it just out of reach with a wicked expression on his face.

"Very funny, Beej, now hand it over," Hawkeye said—and lunged. He practically fell into B.J., who finally decided to be halfway mature and handed over the bottle of vanilla. But as he did, he suddenly burst out laughing, as if the whole "keeping the vanilla away from Hawkeye" trick had been the most hilarious thing ever.

"What so funny?" Hawkeye demanded.

B.J., still chuckling a little, said, "How the hell did you manage to get flour on your forehead, Hawk?"

Lord only knew. Hawkeye reached up to try to wipe it off, but he must not have been successful, because B.J. moved in close then—very close—and lightly brushed his thumb at a spot just above Hawkeye's left eyebrow. His other hand landed on Hawkeye's right hip… he probably wasn't even aware of it. The whole thing gave Hawkeye a heady feeling… B.J.'s touch, his scent, his aura... And was it Hawkeye's imagination, or was B.J. looking at him now with something that might be close to desire?

Time seemed to spin out. They both froze in place. Hawkeye didn't know what to say. He just stared back into B.J.'s eyes, his breathing shallow.

And then, without warning, the moment was gone. B.J. abruptly took a step back and said, "OK, got it off," obviously meaning the flour, and that was that. Hawkeye wondered fleetingly if he'd imagined the whole flirtatious scenario.

"Thanks, Beej." He quickly turned back to the recipe book and busied himself pretending to read, willing his heart to stop racing. And mercifully, they got back to work on their cake.

Despite a brief scare when they thought they'd put in too much sugar, their baking experience was a rousing success, and Erin's birthday cake was delicious. She clapped when they presented it to her (in blue icing, it said: Happy Birthday, Sweetie!) and she ended up eating two pieces.

Earlier in the day, Hawkeye had given her ice skates as a present, and the four of them had gone out to the skating pond down the road. B.J. didn't skate, but the rest of them did, Hawkeye and Daniel showing Erin the ropes and giving her tips on how to keep her balance. She fell only a few times before she started to get the hang of it. She'd tired pretty quickly, but on their walk back home, she'd asked when they could go skating again.

"Has it been a good birthday, Erin?" Daniel asked her now as the four of them sat slumped at the table, too stuffed from cake to move. The unspoken part of that question was, of course, It's your first birthday without your mom… are you all right?

Erin lifted her lashes and looked at him, then smiled. "Yeah, Pop-pop. It's been fun."