Pointdexter: A Swooning Over Stan-fiction

Chapter Eighteen

Alice settled into a rhythm.

Mabel measured out ingredients and tossed them in; Ford read the recipe aloud (pausing to balance out Mabel's haphazard method of throwing things into the bowl); and Alice mixed everything into a suitable batter. Two ingredients later, Alice noticed that Ford had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

I could get used to that...

She didn't notice him returning the stare until he cleared his throat. Her ogling lasted just a moment too long. Alice cleared her throat, forcing her gaze away and rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.

"Alice?" Ford asked her.

"Yeah?" She replied, her hands suddenly sweaty.

"I just added the first cup of flour," He nodded down at the bowl. You can stir it in now."

"Oh!" She nearly jumped out of her skin, trying to ignore the heat in her face and stirring as Ford added another cup of flour. "Yes, sorry."

"Aww," Mabel suddenly chimed "Look at you two working so well together! It looks like you don't even need me to be perfect!"

Alice glared at Mabel, her face twisting, but Ford didn't seem to register the comment the way Alice did.

"That's not entirely accurate," Ford told the girl, a smile crossing his face. "You're an essential member of our baking trio. After all, who else is creative enough to come up with a unifying theme for all these cupcakes?"

"You're right!" Mabel grinned, ignoring Alice's cookie-burning look. "I haven't even thought about that yet! Hmm..."

Mabel stood on a chair next to Ford to reach the counter, hopping up and sitting at the edge of the counter.

"Lovey-dovey, or lovey-dovey," She pondered. "Gah, I can't decide!"

While Mabel worked it out with her creative genius, Ford scooped out the last cup of flour, wiping the excess back into the bag with his finger.

"Wait, I have a perfect idea-" Mabel grinned, throwing her arms up in triumph and promptly sending Ford's cup of flour flying into Alice's face. Alice coughed, wiping her eyes and sneezing. Flour caked her face, Ford's glasses, along with his nose, cheeks, forehead, and the front of his hair to the point where the color was indistinguishable from his usual grey streak. Mabel, thankfully sitting to the side at her perch, barely missed the explosion of flour, even with the various spots all over her sweater.

"Oop..." Mabel suddenly looked very guilty.

"It's alright dear," Alice muttered, wiping her face with a towel before handing it to Mabel. "Take this and dust off the flour."

Mabel attempted to brush the flour off her sweater as Ford took off his glasses, blowing puffs of white from the lenses and wiping them clean with the hem of his turtle neck. He managed to clear off most of the flour but missed a spot.

"Um, Ford?" Alice said with a sudden smile, trying to stifle her giggle.

"I'm fine-" He said with a shake of his head, replacing the glasses on his face. "I've had many messier adventures in my time than a bit of flour."

"No, it's not that-" Alice chuckled, reaching out and brushing the flour from his hair. He stiffened, his expression uncertain as she made the brief contact. Her fingers only ran through his hair for a second, but it was enough to feel how soft his hair was. Alice couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she drew her hand back. "You had some flour there."

"Did I?" He asked, almost bashful. Mabel stopped dusting herself off, staring between Ford and Alice with such anticipation, that Alice was getting self-conscious under her attention. Ford seemed to notice too, because he took a step back, awkwardly clearing his throat.