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„This can’t be right. What even is a pinch of salt?” Eddie muttered to himself while he looked at all the ingredients he already added to his bowl. He wanted to make yet another batch of apology baked goods for Buck. His boyfriend was still salty, pun intended, about his transfer to dispatch.
There, Eddie struck up an unlikely friendship with the dispatcher Linda. She usually gave him easy recipes with instructions, that he could easily follow and not mess up. But this time she gave him something harder.
“It’s to broaden your baking horizon, Eddie. You can’t keep making cupcake’s and muffin’s forever.”
Eddie preferred to bake instead of cook and he got quite good at it, which is why he was currently in his kitchen, baking cinnamon rolls. Christopher was at a sleepover with the Wilson’s and Buck was still on shift. He got all the ingredients in the bowl. So far so good, but now he read, that the dough needs a pinch of salt.
What is a pinch? Everyone has different sized hands. His was bigger than a woman’s. So how much is a pinch?
He got his Phone out of his pocket and FaceTimed Linda. He propped his phone up and went to the cabinet where he kept the salt container.
“Hey, Eddie, what’s up?” Linda greeted him.
Eddie returned to the counter with the salt and looked at the instructions again.
“Hey, Linda. I have a question.”
Linda grinned. “Shoot.”
“What is a pinch of salt?” Eddie asked.
The dispatcher giggled. “What do you mean? A pinch is a pinch.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “I know what a pinch is. I mean how much is a pinch? How many cups, grams, ounces, pounds?”
Now Linda full on laughed in his face. The audacity.
“Eddie, sweetie, a pinch is a tiny amount of salt. There is no measurement for a pinch.”
Eddie let out a whine. “What? Why? That doesn’t make any sense. If there’s no measurement, why does it need to be added in the first place? What does it do?”
Linda let out a sigh, the kind of sigh you gave someone who was very dense.
“You can leave it out. It doesn’t really do much and you wouldn’t even taste it in the dough.”
“Then why add it?” Eddie cried out.
“I don’t know. In a lot of recipes there’s a pinch of salt,” Linda explained and Eddie let out a huff. “Just turn the camera around, take your pinch of salt and show me when you add it to the bowl.”
Eddie did as instructed. He held the camera over the bowl, took the pinch of salt and began to add it to the bowl.
“Good, that’s enough. See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Linda asked. “Now you mix it. Then put the bowl somewhere warm, so the yeast can go up.”
Eddie turned the camera around, after he started the KitchenAid. “And after an hour, I take out the dough, knead it, roll it out, add butter, brown sugar and cinnamon, roll it, cut it, put it in a baking dish, place it somewhere warm, so it can go up again and then put in in the oven for fifteen minutes,” Eddie counted off.
Linda looked like a proud mama. “Exactly. See? You can do it. And if you fail, you try again.”
“Yes, Yoda.”
Linda laughed and blew him a kiss before she ended the call. Eddie set the phone down, let out a big breath and watched the KitchenAid do his thing.
After five minutes he shut it off and put the bowl near the heater.
Eddie cleaned up the kitchen, threw in a load of laundry and decided to run on the treadmill while the dough rested.
After two hours Eddie buttered the baking dish and then started on kneading the dough and rolling it out. He spread the butter over the dough, then the brown sugar and cinnamon.
Cinnamon was Buck’s favorite spice. There already was the tell-tale smell of cinnamon in the air. Eddie rolled the dough, cut up small pieces and put them in the dish, spacing them out so they could go again.
Eddie hoped they tasted good, even with the pinch of salt. The dough tasted great.
He sent periodical updates to Linda, who complemented him on them. They looked good. Eddie padded himself on the shoulder for that, he deserved it. And it felt good, inside, he felt accomplished.
After another hour he put the cinnamon rolls in the preheated oven for fifteen minutes.
Eddie set the timer on his phone, just as his phone pinged with a message.
From Evan ♥: “Shift was awful, be home in 20. Can’t wait to see you. Need a hug. Xx”
To Evan ♥: “Oh, baby. I’m sorry. Drive safe. I love you.”
Eddie checked on his cinnamon rolls, who looked awesome. He went to the bathroom, putting his fluffiest towel on the heater, then into the bedroom for Buck’s favorite sweatpants and his worn out LAFD sweater. Knowing Buck, he probably didn’t want to shower at the station and still had on his uniform, the urge to get out the station as soon as possible to get home winning out.
He dimmed the lights in the living room, then went to the kitchen to shut off the oven. The cinnamon rolls could bake with the remaining heat.
The house smelled amazing.
Eddie heard the front door opening and went to greet his boyfriend.
Buck looked dead on his feet. He had soot on his face, the uniform was dirty and he looked sad. He looked up at Eddie and his eyes immediately watered.
Eddie opened his arms and Buck stepped into them. His face going right into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his arms going around Eddie’s shoulders, holding on tight.
Eddie’s arms caressed his boyfriends back up and down in a soothing manner.
“What happened, baby?” Eddie asked quietly, kissing Buck’s sooty head.
Buck sniffled. “Shift was awful. Couple of fender benders, some medical calls, but the last one did me in. House fire. Single dad and his eight-year-old son.”
Eddie didn’t like where this was going. Buck lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted.
“They’re fine. I almost didn’t get the boy out on time. You should’ve heard the dad crying out for him. That’s gonna haunt me for a couple of days.”
Eddie could imagine, probably the same cries he would let out if it were his son.
“But you did get him out, baby. You did good.” Buck gave him a halfhearted smile.
“I need a shower, Eds.”
Eddie nodded and gave him a soft kissed and put all his love behind it.
“I laid everything out for you. When you’re done, come to the kitchen. I have a surprise for you.”
Buck nodded, kissed Eddie’s cheek and went to their bedroom.
Eddie went to the kitchen and got the baking dish out of the oven. It smelled heavenly. He took a picture of them, for an Instagram post later. Eddie sent one to Linda, who replied with a bunch of emoji’s and demanded he bring her one on Monday, then asking him how it went. Eddie then replied to a text from Hen, who sent him a picture of a sleeping Christopher, squished between Denny and Harry. They looked really cute. Next he checked his emails, confirming his next therapy sessions with Frank, immediately putting them into his calendar.
Eddie heard the shower stop. He pocketed his phone and went to the cabinets, getting out two plates and forks. He put them on the counter, retrieved a knife, to cut two rolls out of the dish, putting them on each plate.
Eddie felt two big arms coming around his waist, a big body plastering himself to his back and a head on his shoulder.
“Is that what I think it is?” Buck murmured, nuzzling Eddie’s neck.
Eddie leaned back, holding onto his boyfriend’s hands.
“Yes,” Eddie whispered. “I hope they taste good.”
Buck chuckled, “Baby, if the taste like they smell, then I don’t want you to learn anything else. Are they still warm?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, just got them out. They taste best, when they’re warm or so Linda said.”
Buck nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, they do. Oh god, I need to taste them. Give me the fork.”
Eddie cut a bit with the fork, blew at it and held it out for Buck, who took the bite. Eddie watched him chewing it, anxiously biting his lip.
“And?”
Buck let out an obscene moan. “Babe, I know you probably promised Linda a piece, but she can’t have it. I won’t share. She can make her own.”
Eddie turned in Buck’s arms, his whole face lit up. “Really?” Eddie scrunched his face adorably. Buck took another big bite.
His boyfriend shook his head. “Really. ‘fis if fe beft fing you ever made.”
“You can’t taste salt, right?”
The End.