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Kay had been trying to avoid this exact situation. Standing on the other side of her door as she opens it is her girlfriend, Ema Skye. Any other day, Ema would be a welcome sight. There's nothing Kay loves more than Ema, and even on her worst days, just getting to be around her makes Kay's day better. Unfortunately, that is not a shared condition.
“Hi-.”
“What is wrong with you!”
Kay opens her mouth, and Ema is immediately on her. She jumps through the doorway, her face beating red and her words just as fiery. Her hands fly to Kay's shoulders as she mixes the acts of grabbing and shoving, forcing Kay to start backing away from Ema.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa-whoa-whoa. Let's just-. Let's just calm down. Like, a little? Please? And talk? Maybe?” Kay's voice is scattered and desperate as she tries to create peace between her and the whirlwind of fury storming at her. Unfortunately, Ema doesn't offer reprieve, leaving Kay focused on generating distance as she dodges backwards into her home. “This really feels like something we should talk about.”
“Talk?! You want to talk?!” Ema throws something that’s a mix of a sarcastic and threatening laugh into the middle of her speech. It's not beautiful like Ema's normal laugh, but the sarcasm remains in her voice just enough to dampen her anger. “Fine, Faraday. Let’s talk. What. Did. You. Do!”
“Um. Okay. That’s a complex question.” Kay knows what she wants to talk about, what Ema wants to talk about, and that they're the same thing—but, given Ema's continued anger, it’s dawning on her that they probably shouldn’t have this conversation right now. “I do all sorts of things, so you’ll have to be more specific. Maybe you should take a deep breath and try explaining-. Ahh!”
In a second, Kay's feet are no longer under her. Focused on her attempts at managing Ema's anger, Kay forgets the layout of her home and stumbles backwards into her couch. Her knees buckle around the armrest, and as she lands on her back with a yip and a thud, Ema climbs over the armrest to sit on Kay’s stomach and trap her.
And it’s an odd reaction to have, but as Kay wipes the surprise off her face, she smiles. Why? Because even as Ema tries her absolute hardest to maintain her anger, there's worry hidden deep within her eyes. Because just as Ema always makes Kay's days brighter, the same is true for Ema—even now. Ema might be upset, but before anything, she loves Kay too much to see her get hurt.
Kay turns her eyes to look at the inch between her head crashing into the hardwood instead of landing on the couch, and she knows Ema’s eyes follow hers. “Okay, if I fell just a little more to the left, I’d have reignited my TBI, and I know you don’t want that. So, why don’t we calm down and talk like adults? For real this time?”
“I don’t need to calm-.” Ema postures like she's still angry, but when her voice slips out without it, she freezes. She bites her lip and throws her eyes across the room as Kay tries to give her a comforting gaze. When her voice slips back out, it’s become vulnerable. “Okay, I don’t want you to crack your head open, but I’m still pissed off at you.”
“Right, that's fine. You can be mad at me for what I did. Which, I'm guessing, is…” Kay lets out a sigh, perfectly timed to the moment Ema’s cloudy eyes come back into sight. “You’re upset about the results of my last case, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, Kay. That’s one way to phrase it.” Ema gives a painful chuckle, and, trying to make her feel better, Kay moves her hands to hold Ema’s. There's no immediate response, but after a moment, there’s a slight lift in her lips.
“Okay, you’re more than upset. You’re mad. You’re angry. Angry at me because I hurt you, which I take full responsibility for.” Kay tries to use her hands to talk, but holding Ema’s binds them to the simple act of swaying. “And I’m sorry. What do you need from me?”
Ema stares down at their hands. “Um. A reason and an apology. The apology matters more, but the logical part of my brain needs to understand why before I can accept it.”
Kay nods. “Well, the reason is that it's my job. A human rights friend of mine reached out on behalf of some escaped cocoa slaves, and with Phobos Confectionery being based in California, I couldn’t not build a criminal case. Everyone already knows the chocolate industry loves child slavery, so it's the kind of thing I can't expose as the Yatagarasu—it's the kind of case I became a prosecutor to run.”
“As for what happened, I wasn’t trying to shut down the entire division. My goal was to apply enough pressure to force them into complying with a fair trade cocoa agreement, but then Phobos Inc. decided to cut their losses. And it might not have been what I wanted, but getting rid of the second-largest chocolate maker in the world massively depositions their slaver friends, so I’ll take it.”
“I’m happy with the results of my case. I know that’s not what you want to hear, Emmy, but it’s the truth. I do what I do to make the world a better place, and that’s what I did.” Kay bites her lip under Ema’s unmoved gaze. “I stand by my work, even knowing that Phobos Confectionery owns the Snackoos brand and… and that my work includes destroying my girlfriend's comfort food…”
“Kay, that’s not-. I wasn’t talking about that.” Ema pulls her hands away to press on her temple. “I'm not mad about the Snackoos thing. Well, I am, but I'm being an adult about it. I know it was an accident. I know it was your job, and I support you in what you do. Fuck, I know Snackoos deserve to be discontinued, even if I’d still eat them if I could.”
Ema drops her hands as she sighs. “Kay, I’m mad at you because you closed this case a week ago and haven’t talked to me since. That’s what you did wrong.”
“Oh.” Kay closes her eyes and throws her head back. When the corporate shutdown was announced, Kay decided to give Ema some space, figuring she wouldn't want to see one of the people responsible for her comfort food being discontinued. She had plans to reach out and talk to Ema about it at some point, but as she has pointed out, Kay has spent the last week cowering in fear instead of fulfilling those plans. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, but I’m super sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.” Kay opens her eyes, and she’s not afraid to admit that they’re filled with shame and regret. “But, um. We’ll get to me apologizing. The reason for that is simple: I’m a coward. I thought you'd be mad at me, so I gave you space, and I was too scared of how you might react to stop giving it to you. I wanted to every day, but I didn’t have the strength to face you.”
Ema painfully sighs, even as she nods her head in understanding. “Well, I’ll admit, you’ve had worse ideas before. For the first day or two, I’d… I’d probably have broken up with you if you’d tried talking to me. But after, I needed to talk to you. I needed an apology, I needed to understand, and after I lost my comfort food, I needed my comfort person more than ever.”
“Yeah, alright. Just dig the knife deeper.” Ema gives a half-chuckle, but Kay isn't trying to lighten the mood. “Um. Emmy, I'm ready to say sorry until my voice gives out, but I figure that's not enough. Is there anything you'd want me to do to make this up to you?”
“I may have had a few things in mind. Two big ones, beyond just getting to spend time with you.” Ema lifts one of her fingers to her cheek and presses it into the skin. “The first thing you can do is give me an apology kiss. Right here, sweetie.”
Kay smiles and leans forward. A scarlet pool flows from her nude lips, filling Ema's cheeks and cascading down her neck. Ema softly whispers 'here' as she slides her finger to the other cheek, and Kay's lips leave a trail of tiny kisses across Ema's nose to give her cheek a thick one. Ema’s finger moves again, but Kay already knows where she wants the next kiss.
Her lips melt into Ema's, and their smiles are so bright that their teeth clash as they push toward each other. Soft hands clasp around Kay's neck while she wraps her arms around Ema's stomach to remain grounded in her warmth. The previous kisses were filled with passion and love, but this one feels special. It's as though they share a single soul that’s been spit apart by their week in isolation, but in this act of love, that split is finally undone.
“I missed you.” The words are softly spoken, truthful and vulnerable. As for who says them—that doesn’t matter. They are words in a tone that Kay would give to Ema, and that Ema would give to Kay. “I missed you too.”
“Never do that again, okay?” Ema looks for that anger from before to make the point stick, but it’s gone. All she has is vulnerability as she lays down on Kay. “I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with when I'm mad, but you need to talk to me. Mostly because I can’t stay mad at you. I love you too much for that.”
Kay snorts, following Ema in finding a more playful place in her heart to reach out from. “You just said you were break-up mad at me for two full days over some junk food.”
“Yeah, but if I did that, I would have come and apologized and begged you to take me back when I got over myself.” Ema looks up at Kay and smirks. “Really, that’s what you should have done. Get me to break up with you by being nice. Then I’d be the one in trouble.”
Kay smiles. “Oh? Does that mean I’m not in trouble because you were one conversation away from being a way worse girlfriend?”
Ema’s smirk becomes even more devious. “No.”
“Alright, I guess that’s fair.” Kay chuckles and creeps backwards until she can sit up, and Ema follows, albeit slowly. “So, what’s that second thing you wanted from me?”
“Well, even though I think you should be, I know you can't always be with me, so I need to find a new comfort food to fill the place of Snackoos. I’m not raw-dogging my stress, anxiety, and insecurity, and you and all that prosecutor money are fixing your mess.”
“Mm. Okay…” Kay’s smile tenses up as she nods. Despite how casually Ema handles the subject, Kay doesn’t like what she hears. “Are you asking me to buy you a load of junk food?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Plus, at least a week's supply of whatever I pick to make up for the week without you.”
“Right, okay, but um. Are you sure that’s what we should do?” Kay’s smile becomes more awkward the longer Ema stares at her and slowly blinks. “Obviously, your comfort food is important to you. That’s not up for debate. But… well… it sounds like—and I’m not saying that it is—but it sounds like you’re asking me to enable you to binge-eat.”
“No, that’s not…” Ema’s mouth hangs open as she fails to find the words to defend herself. After a second, she blushes and throws her eyes across the room. “Okay, it does sound like that’s what’s happening, but I promise it's not. I’m just trying to manage my stress, not start binging again. Having a healthy relationship with food is a balancing act.”
“Well, if that's what your therapist says, I won’t fight her. But I also won't feel like a good girlfriend if I just buy you a load of junk food. That doesn’t feel like it’s helping you.” Kay sighs and drops her eyes. “On the other hand, what does and doesn’t feel like helping you might just be me being selfish about doing what I’m comfortable with instead of what's best for you.”
Ema leans forward to kiss Kay’s forehead. ”Babe, you're not selfish. You care about me more than anyone. Well, maybe not my sister, but both of you love me more than I do. And I guess you're right about finding a new snack being a worrying idea, but I promise it won’t get out of control. And, besides, what else am I going to do? Like, as much as I'd love to start smoking pot, the LAPD doesn't take too kindly to that.”
“No, they really don’t.” Kay puts her face in her hands, only partially to hide her blush from the kiss. So desperately, she wishes she could be comfortable with Ema and food, instead of overly protective. “Hmm. Hey, Em’, you know you don’t have to buy food, right? You can make it instead.”
“Yes, Kay, I know about cooking.” Ema places her hand under Kay’s chin and pushes on it until she can look into her eyes. She’s momentarily confused by what she sees, but it quickly fades into a smile. “Your food is one of the eight dozen perks of dating you.”
Kay smiles and chuckles. “Thank you, but I wasn’t talking about cooking. I was talking about baking. I could buy you snacks, sure, but what if I taught you how to bake instead?”
“Um.” Ema immediately becomes confused again, pulling away from Kay with some light shock. “Baking? I-. Uhh. I'm sorry. Are you saying that every time I get stressed or mad, you want me to bake? That’s your idea?”
“No, but stress baking isn’t a horrible idea.” Kay shakes her head, continuing to smile through Ema’s confusion. “I mean that whenever you have downtime, or are trying to decompress after work, or when you're over here with me, you can make some small goods to carry around and eat at your leisure. You still get to eat all the tasty sweets you could want, there’s just a bit more effort involved to get them.”
Ema breaks her dopey smile to chuckle. “Um, well, that sounds more like way, way, way more effort than just buying junk food.”
“Yeah, I-. I know. That’s why I thought of it.” Kay’s face grows slightly more intense than she’d typically use with Ema. “If you need to make your treats, you can’t binge on them. Or at least you have to put in way more effort, and in doing so, you might feel better anyway. But, I mean, I’m in trouble, so whatever you want happens. I’d just-.”
Kay's shut up by Ema's lips pressing against hers. She doesn't let the kiss linger, but it's still sweet. As Ema pulls back, she wraps her hands around Kay's neck and sets their foreheads against each other. “Kay, as sweet as you still making things up to me is, this decision will affect me for a lot longer than a week. We’re talking about my long-term physical and mental health here.”
“Right. Right, yeah.”
“Okay, that said…” Ema lets out a sigh that fades into a chuckle. “If the whole junk food binge possibility really concerns you, I won’t go buying a new comfort food—yet. I can’t make any promises about tomorrow or any days after, but today, I will let you teach me how to bake, and we will see how I feel about it.”
“I can work with that.” Kay smiles and climbs off the couch, extending her hand to Ema with a subtle bow. “Would you please follow me into my kitchen so that we can have a wonderful time baking? I can teach you to make just about anything you want to eat.”
“Mmm. Alright, I have something in mind.”
Kay clings to Ema's side as they walk into her kitchen, but she's running around to collect things as soon as she hits the tile. Half a dozen bowls, two dozen tools, and any dry ingredients she thinks they might use are pulled out and set on the centre island. As Kay finally returns to rest before her collection, she turns her eyes towards Ema’s face and smiles at the intimidated look on it.
Kay chuckles under her breath, wrapping her favourite apron around herself. “You look at cooking supplies with the same face I look at forensic equipment with.”
“S-shut up.” Ema crosses her arms and blushes, turning away from Kay for a split second as she tries to control her cheeks. “Cooking doesn’t scare me, I just-. Is that the Jammin’ Ninja?”
Ema's eyes come back around, and she points at Kay's apron with a raised finger and a wide smile. Admittedly, it’s a little old—cut and stained in places, and with the logo and titular ninja faded—but it’s nothing worthy of gawking over. “Yeah…? That a problem?”
“No, no. It’s cute, Kay.” Ema simply embraces the faint scarlet on her cheeks and smirks at her. “And so are you. Which is very annoying when you’re annoying because I can’t fight someone so cute. You’re insanely sweet, smart, and cute, and all of that is infuriating.”
Kay starts shaking her head long before Ema finishes, even if she gladly listens to her compliment. “Great girlfriend material, I may be; you could fight me if you wanted to. You just can't because you love me too much. Heart’s too big. Well, not for me, but for your self-image.”
“Kay-.” Ema snorts and drops her head. “Are the last ten minutes ringing any bells vis-à-vis me fighting you? Or even just the one bell?”
“I'm aware, Emmy. I'm simply choosing not to think about it. You have to be positive.” Kay steps into Ema’s personal space and taps her on the nose, and Ema chuckles positively. “Now, before you make something, you gotta decide what to make, so…?”
“Um…” Ema pulls her lip between her teeth, her blush growing just slightly. Kay brightens her smile as much as possible, doing what she can to encourage Ema until she finally squeaks out a nervous answer. “Is there a chance you could teach me to make my own Snackoos?”
Kay's smile continues unabated. “Sometimes I ask myself why you’re like this, and I just don’t have an answer.”
“Kay!”
“What? That wasn’t a no.” Kay scatters kisses across Ema's face until she feels the tension leaves, and Ema starts to whine from being loved too much. “Fine, we can start the day with Snackoos. But I’m making you expand your horizons later. Now, um. What are Snackoos, anyway?”
“They're Japanese karintō, a simple, deep-fried street food. Immigrants brought them to California, and the company's founder decided to infuse and dip them in chocolate to make his product stand out. Thus, Snackoos as we know them—or, I guess, knew them—were born.” Ema starts to pull at her hair with her fingers as Kay stares into her soul. “There’s a, um. A little history blurb on the back of the bags…”
Kay pushes her smile beyond reason. “You are fucking adorable. It should be, like, illegal to be that adorable.”
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I’m not adorable. I'm a cool and sexy forensic investigator that people are intimidated by. I don’t have room to be adorable.” Ema puts her face in her hands, and Kay takes the opportunity to sneak something out of Ema’s pocket.
“Yeah, and the moon is pink. I swear, Emmy, if you’re not the definition of adorable, then that concept doesn’t actually exist.” Kay lifts Ema’s stolen phone to her girlfriend's face as she looks back up so she can get access to the search app, and Ema groans. “Okay, evil tracking box, tell me how to make karintō. And possibly how to spell that.”
“Smartphones aren’t evil, Kay. You can buy your own and give me mine back.” Ema leans into Kay's side, and as she lifts her hand up, she drags a finger over the keyboard and spells the word for Kay.
“Yes, they are, and I’m never doing that.” Kay clicks on a random recipe as her lips connect with Ema’s cheek. “One hundred grams of flour, one teaspoon of baking powder… first make the dough using… Okay, this is just deep-fried dough, which surprisingly means Snackoos are actually a great teaching tool. Making a dough is the most fundamental act of baking.”
“Vindication.” Ema holds her hand in place. “I still want my phone back, though.”
“You’ll get it back when I decide you’re worthy, my apprentice.” Kay slips the phone into her apron, straightening her back and putting her hands on her hips as she handles her teaching responsibilities with the bare minimum of expected seriousness.
“Demoted from girlfriend to apprentice! Oh!” Ema fakes like she’s been shot, but when Kay maintains her posture, she capitulates and buttons up her lab coat. “Okay, fine. I guess it’s baking time. Teach me your ways, oh lady of the oven.”
“Yeah, get your jokes in now because you're about to be pissy with me.” Kay grabs a bag of flour and her baking powder tin and pulls them close. “So you’re going to take these, put them into a bowl, and mix 'em. A cup of flour and a teaspoon of powder.”
Ema lets out a small sigh—if Kay had to guess, because of the simplicity of the order—but she still starts. Ema hates being treated like she's stupid, and Kay's sure she knows that feeling has less to do with Kay's view of her and more to do with the nature of teaching fundamentals, but that doesn't mean she's happy. But still, hoping to make this moment a little brighter, Kay wraps her arms around Ema and cuddles into her back.
Kay places her chin in the groove of Ema's neck, grabbing a wooden spoon and putting it in Ema’s hand. “You have to make sure you're mixing the whole thing. Push the spoon against the edge, down to the bottom, and then turn the flour over so it falls over the middle-. Yeah! You’ve got it. Now, just repeat that motion going around the bowl.”
“Alright.” Ema’s voice is neutral, but there’s a smile on her lips as she stirs. She’s momentarily content, but Kay lets go of her to grab cocoa powder, and the snark hits. “Y’know, you’re doing a horrible job of selling me on this baking thing by making me do the tedious crap.”
“You need an honest experience to decide if you want to keep doing it. As much as I want you to do anything but eat pre-processed trash, I’m not going to scam you.” Kay sets down the cocoa and resumes the hug, and there's a part of her that's unsure as to which makes Ema happier. “And, besides, doing the work is important. It makes the final product taste rewarding.”
“I don’t care that it tastes rewarding, Kay. I just need them to be tasty!” Ema sets down the spoon and reaches for the cocoa powder. “Shit, I could just throw out all the work and eat this. The chocolate is what matters.”
“No, Emmy.” Kay sets a small glass bowl on her scale and zeroes it before reaching for the cocoa powder, which Ema really doesn’t want to give over. “No eating cocoa. I guarantee you’ll hate it. It’s bitter as sin. Making it into sweet chocolate requires work.”
Ema groans and whimpers. “Everything you tell me about baking makes me sadder. How am I ever supposed to-? Oh. What is that, and why does it smell so good?”
With Ema fighting her over the cocoa powder, Kay has grabbed and opened a different airtight tin to start weighing supplies. “Homemade brown sugar. It’s sugar and molasses, and you also don’t want to eat it by itself, so stop thinking about it.”
“I was not…” Ema spins around to glare at Kay, but seeing her wide grin stops Ema in her tracks. She gives a faint chuckle and a half smile before turning her face down to hide her blush. “How are you so happy doing this monotony? I don’t get it.”
“How have you spent twenty years dusting for fingerprints and never gotten bored?” Kay puts a finger under Ema’s chin and taps it up until she can kiss the tip of Ema’s nose.
“Forensic science is different. I love it.” Ema keeps trying to hide her face, and Kay keeps tapping on it to encourage Ema to look into her eyes.
Kay smiles and laughs. “Well, I love cooking, and baking, and crime, and prosecuting, and you and dozens of other things. It’s something that comes easily to me.”
“I have to give this a genuine try instead of being a snarky asshole, don’t I?” Ema rolls her eyes, even with the sigh of acceptance that follows her question.
Kay shrugs. “You can do whatever you want, Emmy. But, I would appreciate it if you saved judgment for when we’re done.”
“Alright, fine.” Ema turns around to look at her bowl. “I’m done mixing, so what’s next?”
“More tedium!” Kay’s chipper cry fades into a chuckle as Ema responds with a groan. “Take my sieve and another bowl, and sift your mixed flour into it. Only a little at a time, shaking as much through as possible before putting in more.”
“Mmm. Okay, I know I just said I would stop complaining, but…”
“When you’re done sifting, you get to add the cocoa powder.”
“Happy again.” Ema turns her head over her shoulder to smile before grabbing the sieve and getting to work. “But, in the meanwhile, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing? Stave off the non-complaining boredom?”
“I wouldn’t be teaching if I didn’t.” Kay steps to Ema’s side and grabs the cup of brown sugar, a water glass, and a bottle of vegetable oil. “So, generally, you mix your dry and wet ingredients separately before combining them. You’re dry; I’m wet. But in this case, the sugar needs to be dissolved, which is why you’re not handling it.”
“Not because I want to eat it?”
“Added benefit.” Kay starts the dissolving process and begins to measure the oil. “Okay, quick rundown. Flour is your base. Baking powder makes flour rise. Cocoa powder gives you that chocolate look and taste. Sugar makes it sweet. The water and oil both help the dry’s solidify into a dough, but the oil also adds fat that keeps the pastry soft.”
“Okay. Okay. Okay.” After a moment, Ema sets down her sieve, picks up the cocoa powder, and shoots her smile towards Kay. “So, does that recipe tell you how to make Snackoos? Or chocolate karintō?”
Kay refocuses on evenly stirring the sugar water. “Neither. That recipe is just for normal karintō, and the Snackoos’ secret recipe is, well, secret. And I don’t have a good mental image of what they taste like, so you get to decide what the right amount of cocoa is. Just remember, it’s bitter, so you don’t want more cocoa than sugar.”
“I get to decide.” Ema grows a devious grin as her fingers tap against the cocoa tin, exceedingly excited about her new station in life. Ultimate arbiter on how much chocolate goes in Snackoos—perhaps the only career she wants more than forensic investigator. “Can I put in the same amount of cocoa powder as sugar?”
“If you think that’s right.” Kay decides to bite her tongue on the thought that she'd do one-third on the first attempt and adjust from there. Ema deserves the opportunity to make her choice, for better or worse. “That’ll be fifteen grams. Oh, and you need to remove the same amount of flour.”
Ema grabs a small glass bowl and drags Kay’s scale towards her, which is her first familiar tool of the afternoon. “What is fifteen grams of flour in measuring cups?”
Kay scans the measuring cups, trying to remember what she uses while preparing amounts. “Fifteen grams of all-purpose flour is… two tablespoons. Give or take a bit that I’d normally leave for the scale to sort out.”
“Alright.” Ema nods and rubs her hands together, and for the first time, she works with speed and excitement. Two tablespoons come out of the sieved bowl, and fifteen grams of measured cocoa go in. When Ema looks at Kay, she sees her smiling with pride at Ema happily engaging with the activity, and Ema smiles back at her. “What do I do now?”
“Now we combine.” Kay places the sugar water in one of Ema’s hands and a spatula in the other. “You put in a bit of the water, mix, I put in the oil, more mixing, and then steadily pour in the rest of the water until it becomes solid. Think you can do all that?”
“Yeah.”
Kay reconfirms with a nod and picks up the vegetable oil cup, waiting for Ema to move. She pours in a bit of water and begins turning the slurry, with Kay quickly adding the oil. Kay drops the plastic cup, and seeing the bowl start to dry up, she takes the water from Ema and manages it for her. In just a minute, everything is combined. In another, the mixture turns from a slurry to a solid, evenly mixed chocolate dough.
“Good job.” Kay wraps one arm around Ema’s waist and uses the other to sprinkle a thin layer of flour onto the counter. “Now to dirty your hands instead of your lab coat. Grab the dough, throw it onto the counter, and start kneading it with everything you have. Just get in there and go at it.”
Ema focuses on action over responding, ripping the dough from the bowl and hitting it as hard as possible. Kay tosses on another handful of flour, seeing it stick to Ema’s fist, before sliding behind her and grabbing her arms. She takes the backs of Ema’s hands in her own and forces her to knead the dough with the base of her palms.
“Okay, I know I said get at it, but you shouldn’t punch the dough. It needs to be encouraged to do its best.” It almost feels like Ema is intentionally trying to mess this up, and that brings some snark to Kay’s voice. “Just like you.”
“I don’t need encouragement; I need praise because I’m incredible,” Ema says with far too much confidence for what Kay can feel her hands trying to do, even if she is starting to get there.
“You are pretty special.”
Kay chuckles into herself and fades into the embrace—and into Ema. Technically, she's making Ema's hands go through the proper motions, but it doesn't feel like she is. She's back to that feeling of single-soul synchronicity. No separation between them, no individual hands, no Kay and Ema. One soul with one goal, to make snacks.
“I think we’re over-kneading this.”
It takes Kay a second to remember she’s a person. “Huh? Oh, shit. Yeah. Sprinkle that with flour and wrap it up while I prep the next step. And see if you can find my rolling pin.”
While Kay makes her way to the stove with the vegetable oil bottle, Ema grabs the cellophane. As she starts preparing the impromptu fryer, Ema sneaks up and wraps her arms around Kay’s stomach. “Did you find the pin, or are you just being cute?”
“I’m just being cute.”
“Okay.” Kay finishes pouring and turns on the boiler, dropping a thermometer into the pot before turning around. “Then let me ask, are you having fun yet, or am I still boring you?”
“Mmm.” Ema sways slightly, trying to make up her mind. “So, I am enjoying myself. This has been genuinely fun, and I’m glad we did this. But I’m also not really… feeling the love? Don’t yet feel like I want to do this by myself, for myself.”
“Well, once we get your stomach involved, I’m sure that’ll change.” Kay beams a smile towards Ema until the other girl rolls her eyes. She presses against Ema to escape her grasp, one kiss sliding across her cheek as she moves towards the centre counter. “Now, find the rolling pin. You’re not getting any more love until you do.”
“You’re evil.”
Ema throws her head back and groans, but Kay can hear her heels clicking as she walks. While Ema searches, Kay dusts one of her cutting boards with flour, unwraps the dough, and throws it onto the board. She works to turn the blob into a rough square, waiting for Ema to finally return to her side.
As Kay steps out of the way so that Ema can work, she grabs Ema’s phone from her apron and looks at the recipe. “Good job. Now, let’s see… roll out to five-millimetre thickness. You can probably eyeball that number, can’t you, Emmy?”
“You say that like a joke, but I can. All my sterile plates and microscope slides are measured in millimetres, so I know all those distances by heart to tell them apart.” Ema starts rolling, and Kay just hugs Ema’s tummy. “Wanna give me the cut numbers?”
“Dough into five-centimetre wide strips, and then we cut those strips every five millimetres.” Kay reaches for two knives. “Once you get it stripped, I’ll cut half to save time.”
“Thank you.” Ema takes a knife and gets to work. Once the dough is cut, Kay squeezes against Ema's side and begins the second round of cuts, and she can feel her blushing at the intimacy. “Hey, um. How are you feeling about all this? It fun or…?”
Kay turns the bright half of her smirk towards Ema and lights up her eyes to make it pop all the more. “Hmm? What do you mean?”
“A minute ago, you asked me if I was having fun.” The more Kay smiles at her, the more Ema’s blush and stammer seem to grow. “I just-. I wanna know how you're feeling, okay? Is it a crime to want to know if my girlfriend is happy now? Huh?”
“Of course not.” Kay sets down her knife, pivots to fully face Ema, and cranks her smile to an eleven. “It’s just that when I look at you with the passionate, bottomless love for you that’s in my heart, you get all flustered under the weight of it and get so silly and cute and adorable that I can’t stop myself from tormenting you. That’s what’s fun.”
“Shut up! I am none of those things.” Ema drops her knife and fumes sillily, cutely, and adorably. “We’ve been over this! I am a badass forensic investi-” “Adorable nerd.” “-MMMMM.”
Ema hard pivots on her heel and reaches across the counter, and before Kay can stop chuckling to herself, there's flour on her face. She flashes comedic shock at Ema, and all that comes is another finger of flour. With her laughter reignited by the faux tantrum, Kay continues to draw Ema's aggression, alongside the smile growing wider across her lips.
Dashing through the cloud of flour, Kay grabs Ema's hips and pushes her into the counter. She makes a noise like she's offended by Kay's touch, but Ema's smile is too loving to make it convincing. Continuing to press into her girlfriend, Kay's lips dance across Ema's, and that smile breaks into a kiss. They fade into a soft make-out, but as smoking oil fills her lungs, she pulls away with a sigh.
“That was adorable; you are adorable, and that’s the last I’ll hear on the matter.”
“Sounds fake, but okay.”
“Stop it.” Kay shakes her head in contrast to her laugh. “Stop doing things. I do not have time to make out with you, and everything you do is so cute that I can’t help myself. Just finish cutting while I will fry your treats.”
“But kisses are the best treat.” Ema playfully leans forward, only to lock lips with a baking tray as Kay starts to grab what she needs. “Okay, then. Never mind. Forgot my girlfriend was an evil criminal.”
“You wound me, Emmy!” Holding the tray, parchment paper, a wire ladle, and a dozen Snackoos sticks on a cutting board, Kay can’t move her body enough to feign being struck as she suggests with her voice. “I’m a ‘Great’ criminal. Hehe.”
Ema groans. “Maybe you’re right about this stop talking and work thing.”
Kay turns her head to bite back, but begrudgingly lets Ema have the last word. She moves the pot of oil to an off-burner to help manage the temperature before ripping off a sheet of parchment paper and setting it on the tray. Removing the thermometer, she tosses in the first few homemade Snackoos and watches them fry with a close eye.
The first, slightly over-fried, snacks come out, and Kay sets them on the baking tray. As she places the second batch in the oil, Ema delivers the rest of the cut karintō and wraps her arms around Kay to watch her work. “None of that. You still have stuff to do. Grab a pot from the cupboard by your feet and then your phone. Instruction number four for the measurements.”
“Got it.” Ema's voice is shakier than her words, and her hands are shakier than that. The pot makes it to the stovetop; brown sugar, water, and salt all make their way to its side, but before she puts anything in, Ema freezes. “Um. Okay. Snackoos have a chocolate coating, and this sure as hell doesn’t tell me how to do that. What do, Kay?”
Kay focuses even harder on the frier, determined to succeed with this batch. “Dunno. Improvise, Em. You’re the scientist, and this is your experiment. Go with what I’ve taught you.”
“Right, um. Um. Um!” Ema rushes towards the island to retrieve the cocoa powder. Far too much makes its way into the pot alongside the intended ingredients, but Kay doesn’t have the spare brain power to inform Ema of her mistakes. “Well, this really is an experiment now. Let’s hope I didn’t completely waste all our hard work with that.”
“However they turn out, spending time with you can never be a waste, Emmy.”
“I-.” Ema looks up from her attempt at chocolate syrup and smiles at Kay. “No, I guess it can’t. Doesn’t mean we’ve actually made Snackoos, though.”
“That's not what matters.” Kay removes the second batch of better-cooked Snackoos and passes the baking tray to Ema, quickly patting them down with a paper towel before starting the final batch. “Okay, it’s time for you to take the last step. Put the Snackoos in your slurry and boil it away. Then we can tray it, cool it, and eat it.”
“Ugh…”
Ema turns off the heat, adds the sticks, and sloshes around the pan to coat them. She looks to Kay for confirmation, who only returns a quick nod before putting it back onto the fire and stepping back to watch the brown mess boil. Kay leans into Ema’s side, and Ema follows suit, with her arm wrapping around Kay’s waist.
“I know you’re nervous, but you did great, Emmy.”
“Kay, we haven’t eaten anything yet.” Ema chuckles in a way that pains Kay just slightly. “You can’t know that. Shit, right now, it looks like a bunch of gross logs in a gross liquid.”
“Well, yeah, but I’m not talking about the food.” Kay throws her arm over Ema’s shoulders and pulls her close. “Maybe we made Snackoos. Maybe we made good karintō. Or maybe we didn’t manage either of them—I don’t care. I just… could I tell you a story? A little one?”
“We’ve got the time.” Ema cuts the heat and picks up the wire ladle as she prepares to move the Snackoos to the baking sheet. “And I’d like to hear it…”
Kay nods. “Thank you. So, when I went to live with my grandparents, it was a weird experience. I was a kid tossed halfway across the world and didn't know my language, my culture, or my new guardians. Now, Metzmama, my grandma, was a baker in this cute little café on the ground floor of our-. That’s not what’s important. She was a baker.”
“Is that why you love cooking and baking?”
“Nana taught me to bake, and Dad taught me to cook, but they’re not why I love to make food. Well, they are, but not in the way you mean. The first time I baked with my Nana was when I asked her to teach me how to make Swiss rolls. I wanted something that tasted like home, and she indulged me in that. Went out, got supplies, and got to baking.”
“Let me guess, you two did the Swiss rolls way better than I did Snackoos?” Ema chuckles to herself while removing Snackoos, but Kay has become stalwart in her seriousness.
“We made the Snackoos together. Any problem is ours, not yours. And as for me and Nana… we completely fucked it.” Kay breaks out a small smile. “Flew right past not tasting like my memory and into burnt garbage. But I couldn’t be bothered to care.”
Kay sighs and wraps both arms around Ema. “Spending the day with Nana? Shopping with her? Talking with her? Baking with her? That was the first time I ever connected with my metzmama. And it took us, like, a month to make an edible Swiss roll, but I was getting to bond with her all that time, so I didn’t care. After my dad died, baking with her was how I found my human connection again, which is what I care about.”
“And, good food or not, all I care about is that we got to share that kind of connection for a day. That’s all I could possibly ask of you, Emmy. Not all that I have asked, admittedly, but all that I needed. I mean, I can’t ask you to make good food. I can’t ask you to keep baking after today, as much as I wish I could. But to spend the day with you, having fun and working together? That I can ask. And that’s how I know you did great today.”
Ema turns her head and presses a gentle kiss on Kay's cheek. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you for playing along with my food experiment. I’m just happy you agreed.”
“Okay, yeah. You should be thanking me for agreeing to do this.” Ema reaches for the Snackoos on the baking sheet and passes one to Kay. “But, right now, I’m thanking you for helping me and encouraging me to bake. Spending time with you will always be enjoyable for me, but I never would have thought to bake, and I never would have had as much fun as I have without you. So, thank you for making my week, sweetie.”
Ema holds up a second Snackoos like she wants Kay to toast them like glasses, and she does, only to leave Ema lightly chuckling. “And, regardless of how these end up tasting, I want to keep baking with you. We can even do something that you want to do this time. Well, as long as I will like it.”
“Oh, my god. Can I teach you to make muffins? Because you would love mini-muffins. They're great on-the-go snacks, and with just one muffin mix recipe, you can experiment with hundreds of fillings and top-.”
“Kay!” Ema clears her throat and wags the karintō in her face. “That sounds like a great way to spend the rest of the day, but can we please see how these came out first?”
“Hehe. Right, sorry.” Kay toasts with the snack again, and the girls toss back their first shared creation before getting back to work.
