I don't have much to say here, I'm sorry again that day four isn't being posted until the sixteenth. I love the Maxmerica ship, but I'm not sure if I did them justice. I hope you guys like this fic!

-owl


America wasn't quite sure how asking her husband if he wanted to make a pumpkin pie with her could cause the chaos that had ensued in the last four hours. The kitchen was a mess. Even when May and Gerad would push their way into the kitchen at home, things didn't end up like this.


"We should make a pumpkin pie!" America exclaimed immediately upon bursting into her husband's office in the middle of a Saturday in October.

Maxon stared at her from his desk. "Bake?" he asked, his tone seemingly trying to question if his wife had lost her mind.

America nodded. "Yeah! We always made at least one pie every fall if we could afford it. Besides, don't you want to learn how to make a pie?"

"I'm trying to work, though, Dear."

She gave him a deadpan look. "It's a Saturday. You have no excuse, let's go."

Maxon sighed, but couldn't say no to her, and gave in to his wife and followed her down to the kitchens. She made a quick stop at their shared bedroom to grab a pie pan, then beelined to the kitchens.

When they arrived, a quarter of the countertop workspace had been cleared for them and on it was a pile of ingredients. America was very proud of herself that she had gotten everything together already.

"What do we need to do first?" Maxon asked her, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt to his elbows.

America herself was in one of her more simple dresses, plain blue-gray in color with no embroidery around the fitted bodice or short sleeves. Her hair had been braided back into a bun, though she had done it herself, without the help of her maids.

"We need to make the crust," America said matter-of-factly. Then, pointing at the ingredients she listed off, told Maxon what to grab. "We'll need flour, salt, butter, and water. We'll also need one cup and a half cup measuring cup, measuring spoons and a spoon to mix things together."

Maxon was able to quickly collect the ingredients, but struggled with finding the utensils he needed. He kept grabbing the wrong things.

"Here's the cups."

"That is a drinking glass. We need a measuring cup."

"Here's the spoons."

"A slotted spoon is both way too big to use for measuring, and it won't hold anything."

Eventually Maxon had the items she had listed, America began to show him how to combine them. She had him measure the flour and get a bowl for them to mix the crust in. She diced up the butter.

When the dough was mixed together, America took it and placed it in the refrigerator. "This'll need to chill for a few hours, so why don't we go out to the gardens."

Maxon nodded and dutifully followed his wife out of the kitchen. They spent time then in the gardens, walking together, much like they did during the Selection.


Eventually they had found a bench and sat together.

"You said your family always made one pie?" Maxon asked, recalling the conversation they had had earlier.

America nodded. "Yes, normally in mid-October, Mom would pull out the pie pan and Kenna and I would race around the kitchen to get all the ingredients. Mom would go to the market and buy a pumpkin."

Maxon laughed. "What about May and Gerad? Wouldn't they get in the way?"

"No, Dad always took them outside and they played in the treehouse. I think, though, once May was eight, she got to help us."

"I see."

"I think it's time to return to the kitchen. The dough should be ready by now."


After taking a bit of a round-about way through the palace, America and Maxon returned to the kitchens. America took the dough out of the fridge and instructed Maxon to find a rolling pin.

"This?"

"No, that's a pizza cutter."

"This?"

"Yes. I'm glad this didn't last as long as it did last time."

Maxon chuckled and brought the rolling pin to his wife. "Ok, what do we do next?" he asked.

America gently spread flour out on her work surface and dropped the glob of dough onto it. "I'm going to show you how to roll out the crust, then we need to set it aside while we make the filling."

Maxon nodded and watched intently as his wife began flattening the dough. After a few passes, America gave him the rolling pin and let him try. It was hard work, forcing the dough to lay flat. Soon it began sticking to the pin itself, and America carefully threw more flour onto the dough.

"I think that's going to be good enough," America said after nearly five minutes of Maxon trying desperately to get the dough to go where he wanted it to. "Now we can drape it into the pan."

Nodding, Maxon took the pan over to the oven and placed it carefully onto the counter next to it. "Now you said we're going to make the filling, right?"

America nodded, and, a little while later, the filling was almost ready for the crust. Unfortunately, that was where it all went wrong.

Maxon had tried to crack an egg into the mixing bowl.

And missed.

It landed on the floor.

Right in front of one of the cooks walking with a large opened container of flour. Said cook proceeded to slip on the egg and drop the flour. The container shot flour much like a confetti cannon, all over the vicinity.

There was flour everywhere. America's dress, which had been gray-blue, was now white, her red hair was white, and it stuck to the light lipgloss she was wearing, giving her white lips. Maxon, meanwhile, had somehow gotten even more of the flour on him, making him look like a ghost. His black pants were coated, his pale blue shirt was coated, and his hair contained even more flour than America's.

"Remind me again, why you thought this was a good idea, Dear?"

She couldn't help it, America began to laugh.