Work Text:
Audrey Hall had always admired a man who could eat. Her father had never been one to turn down a home cooked meal always happier afterwards. Her mother reminded her frequently that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.
Under the tutelage of her mother she far exceeded her expectations and quickly became the cook of the household. Putting her skills to use always helped her feel important and valuable. Especially when her father got sick she learned the healing properties of a good meal. Even if it wouldn’t cure him it could lift his spirits and she could see a glimpse of the man she knew before his eyes were filled with fatigue.
It had worked for her husband too. Capturing his attention with the best pie at the county fair. Him trailing after her like a lost puppy waiting for crumbs to drop from the table. When times got tough for them when the war stole their young marriage and their joy, her moments of bliss came from finding inventive ways to use what they had to fill their stomachs. But it wasn’t enough it didn’t fix what was broken, the damage was irreversible and so she must go.
Her skills in the kitchen were then her key to a new life. They opened doors that other girls from her background weren’t able to walk through. All she had to do was convince a potential employer to let her make them a meal or a pie or even just bring shortbread to the interview and it nearly always guaranteed her a position.
Then there was him. Siegfried Farnon nearly skin and bone when she appeared on his doorstep. A cupboard full of sardines and frankly a disinterest in food of any sort. No matter what she tried, her usual ways seemed to make him even more uninterested.
Then she found him in the pantry. His hands halfway in the shortbread tin and crumbs in his beard that was a bit overgrown from neglect. It was a running joke established through her years at Skeldale that the way to his heart was her shortbread. They both knew it was more than that. It was her care and consistency that eventually won him over. The shortbread was just a lovely bonus.
There had been times through their years together that shortbread was unable to be made. Sometimes it was the war and sometimes she wasn’t there to make it. Even if he tried it never would be as good as hers.
After her longest absence from the house she returned to find a pantry full of sardines and the flashbacks to an earlier time hit her in quick succession.
She heard the back door open and perhaps a bit of grumbling as he discarded his boots by the back door. The familiar sounds made her smile and also a bit nervous to see him after so long. In fact she wasn’t even supposed to be back now and her nerves spiked even at this thought alone.
Slowly she retreated out of the pantry and found herself standing in front of him once again.
“You’re back.” He had stated the obvious.
“Yes. I hope it’s alright.” She really did. After how they had parted she wasn’t quite sure where things stood between them.
“Oh yes, more than alright! Mrs. …” he started excitedly but lost a bit of confidence as he continued. The joining of his hands revealed his own nervousness and unsurety about what he should call her now. “It’s good to see you again.” He stated a bit plainly even regaining eye contact he hoped to cover his blunder, gauge her reaction and give her the opportunity to ignore anything had happened if that’s what she wanted.
“You too.” She could hardly say more, her nerves nearly bubbling over. She felt like every muscle in her body was tense. Her hands clutching the tin she had forgotten to put down like it was a life raft. He took notice.
“I see you’ve found my stash.” He smirked, lightness returning to his side of the conversation if only to cover his own nerves.
“Oh yes among other things.” She said it with a passing smile thinking about the rat she had just returned to what she hoped was the right cage now that another had been added in her absence. “I’ve brought you something. Let me go fetch it quickly.”
He stood there still in his place unsure of what to do as she left the kitchen. Did he need to sit to receive this? Should he sit to feel less imposing? Would she feel if he sat that he wasn’t interested in what she was bringing him? He pondered these questions as he waited.
She had gone back to where she had left her bags to retrieve his gift. She purposely took her time in an effort to calm herself down. It was hard to steady her breaths when she felt wound so tight. He might have looked a bit tired or rough around the edges but there was no doubt now that Siegfried was quite a good looking man. The time apart had only served her in realizing that she wanted more than what they had before. She couldn’t even put a name on it but if she tried it felt like the familiar bubbles of a school girl crush floating in her diaphragm. Yet there was something deeper pulling her to him that was different and sat low in her stomach yearning to be close to him again.
“Sit yourself down. No reason to be standing. I promise it’s not some great surprise.” She held the tin behind her back as she entered the kitchen watching him find his usual place at the table. She took her seat across from him and slid the tin over the wood a bit shyly as a slight scratching sound filled the air. They both knew what it was at this point but she said it anyway as he opened the lid “I’ve made you shortbread.”
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. This meant more than either of them were saying. Instead he smiled and said “Would it be terribly bad of us to eat them all before the others know you’ve brought them?”
“They are yours you may do with them as you like.” She wasn’t entirely talking about the shortbread now and his eyes reflected a bit of understanding.
“Well then I’d like to share them all with you and some tea. Right now and you can tell me all about your adventures and Edward.” His eyes shone now and she knew he wasn’t talking entirely about the shortbread either. He moved to put the kettle on and she moved to grab the cups and milk.
When they had sat down they started where they had left off and only noticed how long they had been sat when they both reached for the last shortbread. She insisted it was his. He insisted it was hers and eventually they split it savoring the last crumbs.
Though when she turned her eyes upon him again she was reminded of that first memory of him in the pantry. A few stray crumbs had caught in his beard again and she smiled at the familiarity. Wordlessly she reached across the table lifting herself from her chair a bit. To his surprise she raised her thumb and forefinger to collect the crumbs where they lay. With prolonged eye contact she brought her fingers to her mouth tasting a bit of him with the sugar.