It’s just pride, she told herself, willing the warmth building beneath her skin to recede. After the way Ren had criticized her cooking the night before at the outset, she wanted nothing more than to make them eat their words again and again; as many times as it took to instill within them the appropriate amount of regret. So,of course, she’d seize any and all such opportunities. And why shouldn’t she?
Her heart still in her throat, she forced what she hoped would be a remotely convincing smile and said, “It’s no fun cooking for just yourself. Food is meant to be shared!”
Ren made a thoughtful noise. “I suppose that’s true enough…” Still, there was something about the way they said it – or perhaps it was their stare, turned unflinching in the time it had taken Pansy to become the subject of scrutiny – that made Pansy feel utterly transparent.
Thankfully, Ren said nothing further on the subject. Either they were simply being polite or their acuity was not nearly as devastating as Pansy had feared. This didn’t stop her fromsweating as she finished up her batter, every one of her senses so wrapped up in the sensation of Ren at her back that by the time she popped the cookies into the oven she felt utterly wrung out.
“How long before they’re done?” Ren asked, suddenly far closer than Pansy remembered.
“Oh, uh, about ten minutes or so, depending on how the oven heats,” she replied, blinking dumbly at the handful of paces that now separated them. Her brain, traitor that it was, couldn’t think of anything beyond this unexpected proximity, how if she just stretched her arm out in front of her, her fingers would surely graze the front of Ren’s shirt, undone at their throat.
What would they feel like underneath, she wondered before she could stop herself, the thought blooming across her mind in a warm haze. Soft or firm? It was impossible to tell from just a glance, considering all of Ren’s clothing was so damn loose! Granted, it suited them, but how was Pansy supposed to see anything when— Wait. Why was she even thinking about this?
Heat surged into her face anew, tingling across the bridge of her nose all the way up to the tips of her ears. In no universe were she and Ren ever going to touch, let alone likethat. It was a mystery that needed no contemplation and certainly no resolution. This, Pansy told herself with more vehemence than was probably needed, was the closest they were ever going to get and—
Her thoughts stuttered to a sudden, graceless stop as Ren’s fingers grazed the curve of her cheek, still flushed a deep scarlet. They were touching her! As casually as they might a friend. But Pansy wasn’t – they weren’t. She wanted to open her mouth, ask Ren what they were doing, but all she managed was a choking sound, pulled from deep in her throat. And as the worldnarrowed to that single point on her face, where Ren’s skin touched hers, her awareness never moved beyond that crackle of lightning, building beneath a barely there seam.
“You had some powdered sugarfern on your face,” Ren explained, jerking away as if they’d been burned. They tucked their hand against their chest – protective or, perhaps, simply mistrustful – and looked off to the side, their head angled such that their hair drew over their expression like an impenetrable curtain. The only clue that remained was their ears, twitching frantically against the flat of their skull.
“Oh, um, th-thanks,” Pansy somehow managed to squeak out, forcing her voice beyond the bubble of embarrassment that had lodged in her throat.
Still refusing to meet her gaze, Ren made a low sound of acknowledgment before turning on their heel and stalking out of the kitchen. In the half-second it took Pansy to realize what was going on, they’d already cleared the doorway and were halfway to slipping beyond her vision entirely.
“Wait!” she shouted after them, gripping the door jamb with both hands so she could lean beyond it. “What about the cookies?Dinner?”
“I’m not hungry!” Ren called back right before they darted around the next corner.
Pansy’s brow furrowed. How could they not be hungry? Judging from the amount of work that had been done to the garden, they must have been out there nearly all day! Well, whatever, she thought to herself with a shrug. Ren was an adult. They could easily make themself something to eat if they got hungry later.
That didn’t stop Pansy from putting aside a serving of creamy mushroom pasta from her own dinner. But that was onlybecause making exactly one person’s worth of this dish was downright impossible. In all her years of cooking, she hadn’t managed it even once, and she was starting to suspect that the feat would forever remain beyond her.
As for the small plate of shortbread cookies, all far greener than she was used to but no less delicious for it – well, Pansy left those out too. Judging from the empty dishes she found the following morning, neatly arranged in the drying rack, it was safe to say her efforts had not gone unappreciated. Ren had eaten everything.
8
Ren
He carries our voices to those we hold dear,
To each of the four corners, both far and near.
And in return, we need only share
A handful of kernels, a price most fair.
GOBLIN SPOKEN-WORD POETRY, ATTRIBUTED TO THE GOBLIN BARD, KORBIN, TITLED “BLACKBIRD”
Idiot!Ren thought with the sort of viciousness that could only be reserved for oneself, as they stabbed the point of their trowel into the earth surrounding a tenacious weed.Why did I touch her like that? I could’ve just told her about the powder on her face. Ugh!
Behind them, the kitten, who Ren had already taken to calling “Mushroom” because he seemed to crop up everywhere, let out an impatient mew. Evidently, the glove they’d sacrificed in a bid to keep their newly planted Running Beans, already budding from the earth, from being subjected to a set of sharp kitten teeth had lost its luster. Now, Mushroom was padding over to Ren, belly expanding around another plaintive meow as he butted his head against their leg.
“Go inside and find Pansy if you want to play,” they groused, nudging the kitten aside with the back of their hand. “She’s the one who brought you here.”
Mushroom, however, didn’t seem to care much about this particular fact. He pushed his head up into Ren’s palm, throat already rumbling with a full-blown purr.
Ren sighed. “You don’t care that I’m busy at all, do you? No, definitely not. You’re just like the halfling who adopted you. You just take, take, take. If not for you, I might’ve actually managed to drive her out. Shereallyhated all that dirt.”
Of course, said dirt was long gone by now, the floorboards returned to their original halfling- (and kitten-) friendly state. Still, Ren couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Pansy’s frustration. If only it had been allowed to grow to fruition…
