The Elementals

Brownies

I wake up slowly for once, like a soft fog lifting from my mind. I’m comfortable, despite sleeping on the floor. I shut my eyes against the sun, trying to cling to the warm feeling all over me. Turning over, I pull the blanket over my shoulder tighter.

My eyes snap open. It’s not a blanket, it’s Coal’s arm, attached to mine by the handcuffs. The warmth is radiating from his chest, which my back is pressed against. I hold my breath so I don’t wake him up. I tell myself I’m being considerate, but the truth is I kind of like being this close to him.

It’s just not horrible is what I’m saying.

Another few content minutes pass before he shifts suddenly. “Are you awake, or are you still faking it?” Coal’s voice rumbles next to my ear.

I jump, startled, and clench my teeth as I feel his airy laugh past my face. “I am now.” I snap, rolling over and getting up.

I yank on the cuffs, pulling Coal up with me. We start to rummage through the small desk in the room, trying to find anything useful. I find a paper clip and cheer on the inside. It only takes a few seconds for me to unlock the cuffs, but the door is a different story.

    “Over here.” Coal picks up a plastic card, a Visa. He walks to the door and slides the card into the slot between the lock and the frame. After a few moments of adjusting, the door clicks and he pushes it open. I follow after him as he makes his way through the rooms, searching for anything useful.

    “How’d you do that?” I ask, impressed.

He shrugs modestly. “I don’t really know actually. It’s just a trick I learned at the orphanage in Hawaii.” He takes a right into a small kitchen. I watch curiously as he starts pulling out different ingredients from the cabinets.

    “What’re you doing?” I ask as he takes out a bowl from a cabinet under the sink.

    “Breakfast.” He says simply.

    “Brownies?” I note the cocoa powder.

    “Is that a problem?”

    “No.” I reply in the same short terms. “How do you know how much to put in?” I watch as he pours some sugar straight from the bag into the bowl absent mindedly, but then stops abruptly, as though the movements are ingrained in him.

    “I never use measuring cups.” He shrugs. “Not even then.”

    “So you made them a lot?” I sit on the counter.

    “Yes,” He looks quizzically at me. “They’re just brownies.”

    “I just think it’s cute you made them for the little kids.” I say, smiling. It’s rare to have Coal in a softer state like this. I try to savor the moment while it lasts.

    “How did-” He sees my face and mutters, “You didn’t,” to himself. “It’s not cute.” He protests.

    “It’s adorable.” I tell him, then put my hand in his way as he ducks his head. “In a good way, stop being so sensitive!”

I reach over to pull out a pan from a cupboard and place it on the counter. Coal doesn’t look at me in this fake offended way, and snootily pours the batter in.

    “Stop being such a girl.” I shove him lightly. A laugh escapes him, and I go to open the oven.

    “Aha,” He shakes a finger at me, hand bursting into flames. “No.”

His torching could use some work, like maybe doing things the conventional way, but within a few moments we have crispy, hot, surprisingly delicious brownies.