(18+) RED (Complete)

Ch. 22: Mice

"Do you have any special Christmas cookies you use to bake?"

I was confused for a moment.

"Christmas..."

"...cookies, yes. Do you have any traditions of some sort? You know, the kind you always have to bake, because if you don't, Christmas won't be the same."

Childhood memories filled my mind and made my heart burst with nostalgia. That time of year had always been special to me. I didn't remember my first four Christmases, mostly because there weren't much to remember. And the little I did remember, was scribbled down in the book of memory loss. Chosen memory loss.

"My mom always makes a house of gingerbread. She has a homemade mold shaped just like our house, and she sometimes makes adjustments to show dad how she wants to expand the house. Dad just shakes his head at her, though. Especially when she made a dog kennel out of sugar sticks, in the pretend backyard. I think our neighbors should be glad that idea never came to life."

Benjamin laughed out loud.

"Then... Hm. Oh! We always make almond spritz cookies, only we shape them as mice. You see, my sister was six and wanted to know what the dough was made out of. So mom tried to explain that it was made out of almonds, and got frustrated when DeeVana couldn't remember what it looked like. And since her hands were dirty with dough so she couldn't start digging inside the kitchen cabinets, she made an almond shaped cookie to show her. Only, my sister thought it was a mouse and demonstrated it with a cut off rubber band for a tail, and one cent coins for ears. Then she poked out eyes and called it Mousie. Later we switched the rubber band to liquorice lace, and the ears into half-cut almonds, but we still call them Spritz Mousies to this day."

Benjamin chuckled, but looked a bit sad for a moment. Maybe he was reliving something from his own childhood? But I didn't get to ask, because it was gone right after.

"Do you remember the recipe?" he asked and turned to search for something in the cabinet next to their fridge. Then, when he'd found what he was searching for, he turned to me with a mischievous grin and held out two boxes of almonds.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Because we're baking Spritz Mousies a'la Mia."

"Now?" I exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Yep. What else do we need? Sugar? Flour? Eggs? Butter?"

Damn. He already knew most of it.

"White and brown sugar, baking soda and vanilla extract. No eggs," I said and slowly walked over to him. I couldn't believe he wanted me to bake for him.

"Bowl, scale and measure cup. Anything else you need?" he grinned when he'd placed it all in front of me.

"A whisk?"

"Most certainly, my dear."

There was that British accent again, and this time I decided to play along.

"I thank thy, my noble knight, for helping out this damsel in distress."

Then I shrieked when he poked his fingers against my ribs as he reached around to get the whisk.

"Hey! You're supposed to save me, not assault me!" I whined. Then I screamed when he tickled me again.

"Stop it!"

"Not until you teach me your secret recipe."

He kept tickling me until I begged him for mercy, and I struggled to keep serious long enough to get the measurements right. Especially since Benjamin did all he could to distract me, either by throwing out random numbers while I counted out loud, or stealing the flour or the whisk right when I needed them. I scolded him several times, but I couldn't even stay strict for two seconds. It was the most fun I'd ever had in a kitchen.