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Rogue stood in the middle of the kitchen and stared flabbergasted at the mess covering every flat surface in the kitchen. And by every, she meant every. There was batter splattered on the walls and windows. The floor was sprinkled with flour and cocoa powder. Smudgy fingerprints littered the handles of the ‘fridge and cabinets.
“Kitty, what happened here?” Rogue loses her eyes in an effort to keep her incredulous expression from overwhelming her flour covered roommate. She knew Kitty was the farthest thing in the world from a competent cook, but she didn’t expect this when Kitty had called for help.
“I don’t like even know. I swear I was following the recipe...and then, this...,” Kitty moaned on the verge of tears. Sitting with her back against the cabinets and her face buried against her knees, she made for a pathetic image. The lour dusted her head caused her hair to appear whiter than Rogue’s. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and I wanted to make brownies for Piotr. I thought if I made him some chocolates…well, you know….”
Rogue rolled her eyes. Yeah, she knew what Kitty meant. Though, if Kitty wanted to let a guy know she liked him, she’d do better at sticking with something she was actually good at. But, Rogue couldn’t blame her roommate for wanting to do something a bit traditionally romantic. While Rogue wouldn’t admit it, even on pain of death, she had same compulsion. Just with another recipient in mind.
“All right sugah, dry those tears, let’s see what ya have going on here. Maybe we can salvage something.”
Rogue stuck a spoon into the batter and tasted the lumpy mixture. Before starting over, she might as well see if she could keep anything Kitty made. That way Kitty could at least pretend she made something for her would-be boyfriend.
The moment the mixture touched her tongue, her lips puckered and she could not spit the batter out fast enough. Turning on the water, Rogue drank directly from the tap.
“How much salt did you put in there?” Rogue grabbed a glass from the nearby cabinet and filled it with water. She could be civilized about this.
Kitty hedged, “There recipe didn’t say how much…”
“How much?” Rogue caught Kitty’s gaze in a hard stare and refused to give way no matter how much the other girl shifted and mumbled.
“Like a pinch. I swear. I thought that’s what the recipe meant when it doesn’t say…”
“Ya definitely don’t need to worry about putting too little in here.” Rogue sighed. She was pretty certain she knew what happened. “Where’s the cup you used for the sugar?”
“Um, here.” Kitty gestured at a measuring cup on the counter.
Remnants of crystals clung to the edge of the cup. Rogue swiped her finger along the cup and brought it to her lips. Yup, she was right. “Ya put salt in the batter instead of sugar.”
“No,” Kitty wailed.
“There, there.” Tentatively, Rogue patted her roommate’s shoulder. She really wasn’t good at the whole comforting thing. “Look, we’ll just clean this up and start over.”
“Really?” Kitty wiped at her eyes. “You’ll like help?”
“Yeah.” Rogue started gathering the bowls, measuring cups, and whisks. “Well, you’ll work on the cleaning while I start on the baking.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll do anything.” Kitty directed a blast of water into the mixing bowl, sending the spoiled batter down the drain.
“All right.” Rogue pulled a fresh bowl from the cabinet and started gathering the supplies for a double batch of short crust. “Just stay away from the salt…and sugar for the rest of the day.”
“Okay, okay.” Kitty lifted suds covered hands in surrender. “By the way, what are we making?”
“Pie,” Rogue said without hesitation. After all, she had her own sweet treat to make.
——
As the clock ticked from today into tomorrow, Rogue knocked on the door of Gambit’s room. “Ya there sugah?”
The door opened before she scarcely finished knocking. More leaning than standing in the doorway, Remy oozed insouciance. “What can I do for you, chère?”
Rogue thrust the home cooked pie at him. “Like ya don’t know that Ah’ve spent the afternoon in the kitchen.”
“One wouldn’t want to presume.” He smirked. “Maybe you wanted t’ make a pie for ol'Pete too.”
“Shut up.” She glanced up and down the hallway. “Are ya gonna let me in or am I gonna have to eat this boysenberry pie all by myself?”
“By all means.” He accepted the pie as he stepped out of the doorway, making room for her to scoot on in.
The room was lit with candles and music played softly in the background. The music was just loud enough to obscure the sound of their voices once the door was closed. A picnic tablecloth was spread out on the floor and an array of dishes cluttered the checkered cloth.
After placing the pie between a plate of croque monsieur and a bowl of purple grapes, Remy wrapped his arms around Rogue and drew her close. “Happy Valentines Day, mon coeur. Je t’aime.”
“I love you too, sug.” Rogue stood absolutely still as Remy carefully kissed her, brushing his lips over where her hair or clothes covered her skin.
“Have a seat.” With a grand sweep of his hand, he gestured at the indoor picnic. “Let’s eat while the food is still warm.”
Taking a seat next to him, Rogue’s knee brushed his. Though everything was perfectly covered, there was still a thrill every time they touched. He wasn’t afraid of her and someday she wouldn’t be afraid of herself either. She believed it without a doubt, especially when they were together.
Remy served up generous portions of the picnic while Rogue shared the highlights of her adventures in baking with Kitty.
“Ah swear, If ya ever see the girl coming at you with a plat of brownies, run in the opposite direction. Ah’m gonna have nightmares about them for ages. How she can put that much salt in a dish without blinking an eye, Ah’ll never know.”
“Well, they all can’t be as sweet as you.” He broke off a bit of pie crust and popped it in his mouth. “That practically melts in your mouth. Hope the chaton tells Pete she didn’t bake her pie or he’ll be one disappointed homme.”
Rogue smiled as she placed her gloved hand over his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. “Ya know, you’re the only one who thinks Ah’m sweet.”
“That’s cause I know all of you. Sugar, spice, and just the right amount of salt.” He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles with the mention of each flavor. As she relaxed with his touch, he flipped her hand and lightly brushed his lips along the inside of her wrist. The fleeting touch left her with the ephemeral taste of his love for her on her psyche. She hummed in pleasure, wishing he could taste the depth of her love in return.
Hopefully, until that day, he would recognize the amount of love baked into every slice of boysenberry pie.