Christmas Pokemon One Shots

Burnt Pie: Amourshipping AU

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air and even though it was not a new smell to me, I couldn't help but breathe in deeply as I moved towards the oven and removed the three identical bread tins which were releasing an even stronger scent of yeasty bread. Without thinking I began to hum as I carefully removed the bread loaves, turning them out of the tins and tapping the bottoms to feel the solid crust with a satisfied smile. Looking back on my childhood I could hardly believe that I was able to make a living doing the thing I loved most: Baking.

    During my childhood, my Mama was a member of a traveling roadside show. We traveled all through the different territories and states, stopping outside of any town whether it was recently being founded or had been around for decades. Mama was one of the stars of the show. She was an expert gunslinger who could flip a coin in the air and hit it dead center. But her TRUE talent was that she was an expert horsewoman.

Cowboys and just regular men would come for miles around to challenge my Mama to a race and they would actually pay for the chance to try and beat her. It was always one of the most exciting events of the roadside show. I could remember standing on the sidelines cheering for my Mama and her horse, Wind's Whisper (affectionately known as Wisp), as she charged around the makeshift track with dozens of men pushing their horses to overtake her.

Mama tried to teach me all about horseback riding and at every town we stopped outside of, she always took me to find the local horse breeder to try and find my perfect match, like Wind's Whisper was for her. But even though I enjoyed spending time with horses and I didn't mind riding, I hated racing. My interests leaned more to sewing and cooking but especially baking. It always made me happy when I could get my hands on some ingredients and I could have a nice treat waiting for Mama after a long day of practice.

To keep myself busy during shows and earn some extra coins, I decided to make a few dutch oven cobblers to portion out and sell to the viewers of the roadshow. To my surprise, my cobblers sold amazingly well! Mama seemed pleased that I had taken the initiative to help out in my own way with the roadshow and for a year or so I continued focusing on my treats to sell to the roadshow visitors.

One day when we traveled through the ridiculously hot Arizona deserts, we stopped outside of a quaint little settlement called Martins Town. The people seemed ecstatic to see a roadshow since they were a little off the normal travel route, and I had no trouble selling my cobblers.

Later in the evening a woman with plump cheeks and steel in her eyes came up and asked for a serving of cobbler. I was happy to comply and was surprised when she took the cobbler and didn't immediately move away to look at one of the many attractions of the roadshow. Instead, she eyed my cobbler, moving it around to seemingly inspect the ratio of cobbler crust to the gooey fruit concoction underneath. I felt myself swallow nervously when she finally scooped up a spoonful, brought it to her lips, and tasted it. A strange feeling of anticipation washed through me as she slowly chewed her bite of cobbler. I fidgeted nervously with the cuff of my sleeve as she swallowed her bite and looked down at the tin dish of cobbler and then looked straight into my eyes. I stiffened under her intense gaze but when her stern lips quirked up in a smile an almost euphoric feeling of accomplishment rushed through me.

"This is a very good cobbler, young lady. Where did you get the recipe?" the lady asked, her voice strong and firm but I could hear some gentleness in her tone as well.

"It's my own recipe, Ma'am. Whenever we visit a town with a bakery of some kind I like to buy one of their treats and then try to recreate it on the road," I said, flicking my eyes down shyly at the confession before looking back up at the older woman. She blinked in obvious surprise and looked down at the cobbler in her hands.