The States

challah

Will wakes up to an empty bread and the smell of bread baking.

It isn't an unusual occurrence. Brooke is usually up before him, whether she woke up before him or just never went to bed. 

As for the bread, almost every other weekend Brooke makes challah. 

Will closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the fact that he gets to have this, before he gets up.

~

Brooke's an artist in just about every sense of the word, but dancing is possibly the only art form Brooke has never really mastered. She looks like she should be a ballerina, all willowy limbs and grace, but she dances like a normal person, with too much bouncing around and swaying.

She's braiding the dough into some complicated pattern and humming. Moments like this, Will is so in love with Brooke that it's hard to imagine a time when he didn't like her. 

Brooke doesn't even pause when Will wraps his arms around her waist. "Morning," he presses a series of kisses against her neck. "What kind are you making?"

"This one is just going to be plain." She stops braiding to gestures towards the loaves of bread as she speaks. "This dough has blueberries, I'm going to take it to Nicky's later probably. The ones that are cooling are another plain one and one with cheese. I don't know how the cheese one is going to turn out, I've never made that recipe before-"

"You regretting impulse buying a yeast starter yet?" Will teases, even though he knows she doesn't. 

Brooke shakes her head. "No, I like making bread. It's very-" Brooke makes an odd hand motion, but Will knows what she means. 

He's glad she makes a ridiculous amount of bread if it means she remembers to eat when she decides to paint the entire loft again. 

"What's in the oven?"

Brooke smiles. "New recipe. I think you'll like it."

Will would probably like anything she makes, though he refuses to admit it because that's a little too sappy even for him, but he especially likes when Brooke makes challah, even though she's ruined him for store-bought bread now. It means something to her, so it means something to him too, even though in theory, he's a Quaker. 

In practice, he's about as much a Quaker as Brooke is a Catholic.

Which is to say not at all.

Somewhere between dying, being buried, having to claw his way back out and some of the worst wars humanity has to offer, he'd lost faith in any kind of higher power. If someone were to ask, he'd probably say that he toes the line between agnosticism and atheism, but very few people do because anyone who would care to ask experienced the crisis of faith firsthand.

On the other hand, Brooke was born Catholic and converted to Judaism later on. It's a complicated story, and she usually ends up ranting about the Catholic church when it's brought up.

He goes along with her holidays because he loves her and because he has little attachment to the Christian holidays anyway. Will still mixes them up, because at least a fourth of them are 'let's celebrate- someone tried to kill us but we survived, bitches.' 

"Can I help?"

Brooke gives him a considering look, and Will purposely does not say, hey, I only set a pan on fire once, even though he knows she remembers it. 

"Yeah, you know how to braid, right?" 

Will gives her a look, silently reminding her who used to braid Del's hair back in the old days. 

Brooke shrugs and lets him grab the last bowl of dough. 

Will is rolling the dough into strands when a thought occurs. "Hey, Passover is coming up, does that mean that you have to throw out the yeast?"

Brooke shakes her head. "No, chametz is the fermented grain- like wheat and rye and all that. I mean, I won't use it because I don't think it's kosher, but I'm not going to throw it away. Anyway, before I forget, Nicky's hosting dinner this year. Are you coming over? I'm pretty sure Adam's supposed to be there, and Adrien said he might stop by if he can get off work."

Will hums, fondly remembering last year's Passover dinner. Every year, Nicky bought a bag of plastic toy frogs, and Adam had stuck one of those plastic frogs in Nicky's hair at one point. It'd taken Nicky five minutes to figure out why Brooke kept laughing at him. Brooke had been halfway wine-drunk, soft and affectionate and happy. She'd kept kissing his cheek and playing with his wedding band. "Yeah, I'll come."

Brooke smiles. 

The timer on the oven goes off, and Brooke slips the oven mitts on her hand to take the bread out of the oven. She moves it to the cooling rack before she sets the loaf she was braiding on the baking sheet to slide back into the oven. 

Will focuses on brushing egg whites over the blueberry challah so it can go on a tray to go in the oven too. 

Once it's been settled in the oven with the other one, the timer set, and the bowls and measuring cups and spoons dumped in the sink, Brooke hops up onto the countertop. Will goes easily when she pulls him closer, pressing her mouth against his own for a proper good morning kiss. 

The morning settles around them, sunlight bouncing off all those skyscrapers to spill through the window. Will wonders if there's a word for this and considers asking Brooke before he decides not to risk the soft calm of the moment with speaking. 

Brooke rests her head against his shoulder, and Will glances around, eyes landing on the cooling racks. 

"That one looks a little burnt," Will points out, and Brooke turns to look before she rolls her eyes, pushing him back a little so she can slide off the counter to grab a knife from the drawer. 

She slices a piece of the challah off neatly, handing it to Will with an expectant look. 

Will bites into it hesitantly, then stilling as he recognizes the taste. "Chocolate?"

Brooke tucks a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "I made it for you." 

Will swallows the bread, even though his throat is a little tight. Words come easier to him than Brooke sometimes, so she tells him she loves him with actions. Sketches, kisses, three taps of her hand on the nearest part of his body the way Alfred did. 

Chocolate challah bread. 

Will sets the bread down so he can cup her face and kiss her.