“I’ve got everything under control.”
“Obviously.” Even though her tone was entirely unchanged, Linda’s scepticism was apparent.
Kelly glared. “I suppose you could do it better?” She knew she wouldn’t get an answer and didn’t bother waiting for one. Huffing in frustration, she grabbed a tea towel and wiped the worst of the cake batter off of her face. She’d need a shower if she wanted clean hair, though.
She could hear Linda smirking. “Maybe don’t stir it like you’re trying to jump to slipspace.”
“Who’s jumping to slipspace?” Fred walked in, and immediately looked exasperated. “I said I don’t mind doing it.”
“You always do it.” Kelly replied, as if that settled the matter.
“And we always enjoy it, right?”
“Of course we do, but that’s not the point.” She started stirring again, more slowly this time. “You shouldn’t have to do it everytime. We need to be able to make our own cakes.”
In case you can’t anymore hung unspoken yet heavy in the air.
“Besides,” she continued in a lighter tone, “it’s nice to have things made for you.”
Linda spoke abruptly, cutting Fred off before he could argue further. “Does John like cake?”
That pulled them up short. Kelly realised they’d only started this tradition after the war– after John went MIA. Now he was back, and once again they found themselves carrying on as they had without him. It wasn’t helping to smooth over the way the pieces didn’t fit anymore.
“… Yeah. Yeah, I think he does.” Fred’s face was tight with concentration as he cast his mind back to training. “He never turned it down, at least.”
“Of course he didn’t, he never turns down food. He still eats bugs, Fred.”
“He does.” Linda confirmed unnecessarily.
Kelly just maintained eye contact with Fred until he conceded defeat.
“Who does what?” John asked, arriving late to the conversation after having to ask Roland where his team was. “What are we doing?”
“We aren’t doing anything.” Fred answered, successfully masking his startlement with mild irritation by virtue of genuinely being irritated. “Kelly’s making a mess.”
John’s lip twitched. “In your hair?”
Kelly sniffed haughtily and pointedly went back to stirring the batter.
“Why are you making a cake?”
“For us.” Said Linda. “To mark the years we’ve survived.”
Fred winced, expecting the roundabout reminder that many didn’t survive to send John into one of his melancholy states again.
Instead, he asked, “Like a birthday?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Kelly didn’t turn around.
That made her turn, frowning. “Why would I be mad at you, John?”
He shrugged. “Because I insulted your cake-making skills?”
“Hmm. You did. However, I am benevolent, and will allow you to partake all the same.”
John shifted his stance and looked away.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want.” Fred spoke almost too quickly. “I usually do it, so I don’t know if Kelly’s will be edible.”
“Okay, I’m benevolent to an extent.” She pointed the spoon at him, carelessly splattering more batter across the floor. “Don’t push it.”
Watching John carefully, Linda sidled closer. “You don’t want cake?”
He hesitated. “I… do.” He was clearly uncomfortable with the admission.
“Well, Kelly’s going to all this effort.”
That got a little smile out of him. “Maybe a little too much effort.”
“I heard that!” Kelly snapped. “If you think you could make a better cake, you can come over here and do it yourself.”
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