SWEETHEARTS [flufftober]

Cooking Together (Asra Alnazar)

🧡

 "Oh wow, doesn't that smell delicious?"

A warm and familiar hand appeared upon the small of my back, jolting me back to the bustling marketplace surrounding us. The air smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, the market winding up for the autumn season. The clamor of shoppers swallowed me whole as I zoned back in, gently reminding myself of who I was, where I was, who I was with, and why we were in that maddening crowd in the first place.

I found myself lost in thought often lately... but then again, everything had been murky for months now. Although I felt a lot better than I had back then, it still took a conscious effort to stay in the moment, to stay with Asra.

Forcing a smile, I nodded, gesturing to the loaves of pumpkin bread in the nearby bakery, where our favorite baker, Selasi, waved to the two of us.

"You want to grab one? They smell fresh," I said, returning the gesture.

Asra tilted his head of fluffy white curls as he examined me with his beautiful violet eyes, deftly avoiding the hustle and bustle of other shoppers. "I bet you'd like one," he said, grinning at me softly. "I'm not sure that I could have a whole loaf today... Feel like sharing?"

"Sure," I said. "But perhaps we should get you one for later?"

He laughed at that, his eyes crinkling with sincerity. I loved being able to make him laugh like that, even if I didn't understand why. Asra studied me with a soft gaze, a smile still curving his lips as his hand drifted to the drawstring pouch at his waist. "What if... we don't have to share?"

"...Because you have enough money for two loaves of pumpkin bread and the rent for the last three months?" I teased. Asra didn't seem to understand how money actually worked, despite his slight shopping addiction. Plus, the rent thing was true; he hadn't paid his half of the rent since... well, since I could actually remember things.

He pursed his lips, fighting a laugh. "Touché, but no, that's not exactly what I meant." Asra's eyes twinkled as he said, "What if... we try making our own pumpkin bread at home?"

"We can do that?" I blurted, then face-palmed. Of course we can do that. No one would stop us from making our own pumpkin bread.

Throwing his head back to laugh, Asra wrapped his arm around my shoulder and steered me down the bustling street, beelining for the spice stalls. "We can certainly try."

🧡

Once home, Asra whipped us up a pot of cinnamon apple tea before we got started. I found some dusty aprons in the cupboard; Asra tied mine for me, and I did the same for him.

But if I'd ever known how to cook or bake... I couldn't remember any of it.

"Where do we start?" I asked, hands on my hips as I stared at our pantry of baking essentials. Some of the ingredients I recognized and could name—ground oat flour, maple syrup, molasses, and maybe one or two others—but most of them were mysteries to me. When he was in town, Asra did all of the cooking; when I was on my own, I typically bought all of my food at the market, precooked. I probably shouldn't be trusted with flames yet, anyway.

With his fingers in his hair, Asra pulled the topmost curls out of his eyes, tying them into a little ponytail on top of his head. "Let me grab the ingredients," he said, eyeing the pantry. "Could you please coax the salamander?"

Nodding, I stepped toward the stove, rolling up my sleeves. The salamander was a sleepy, fickle little dude, but without him, we wouldn't be able to bake a single thing; and, of course, he preferred Asra over me.

He'd just lit the stovetop kindling for our tea, so the little fella was curled up among the cinders, rolling around in the ash and blacking out his coppery skin. "H-hey, buddy," I said softly, dropping to one knee. "Could you please light the stove for us?"

The salamander paused its tossing and turning. He lifted his head, leveling his huge yellow eyes on me.

"Just a little spark?" I pushed.

It seemed to squint at me, weighing its options. Then, he opened his mouth, and a burp of flame came out, aimed down into the stove. In seconds, that little spark caught. Thin smoke sifted out through the vent, smelling softly of campfire.

"Thank you," Asra and I said at the same time — him to me, and me to the salamander. We both laughed, and Asra pointed at the table, where he laid out all of the ingredients.

I joined him there, following his lead. Asra started pouring ingredients into a bowl—flour, maple syrup, pumpkin puree, something that smelled like vanilla but looked like liquor, and a bunch of other unnamable stuff—and I was in charge of mixing. "How do you know how much to use? Or when to put it in? Did Selasi give you a recipe?" I asked.

"I don't know," Asra admitted with a smile. He looked up at me through his white eyelashes, and my heart skipped a beat. "I'm guessing."

"How do we know it will turn out good?"

"We don't. We'll have to hope."

🧡

In the end, the bread was soupy but pumpkin flavored. We baked it for hours and hours and it never really solidified, but we tried it anyway.

It was awful... but I enjoyed the little moments with Asra.

Even when we went back to the market and bought pumpkin bread.

I savored every crumb.

Maybe someday we could try again.