8593/Betty Crocker Makes it Look Easy

Betty Crocker Makes it Look Easy
Date of Scene:	30 July 2019
Location:	Apartment 214, Hugo Building (TBD)
Synopsis:	Willow and Spike make chocolate chip cookies? At least that's the recipe they followed. They get to chatting about Oz and Buffy.
Cast of Characters:	Willow Rosenberg, Spike

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Willow Rosenberg has posed:
So, it's summer. Middle of a heatwave. You're out of class till September. All your other obligations have bee fulfilled for the evening, and for once you're not out of sage, so what does your average every day pagan witch do? Why, bake cookies, of course. Even if it's not nearly as much fun without Buffy. Especially because Buffy was much better at this than Willow, who, as it was noted, was not the world's best potion maker. Baking was only a hop, skip, and a jump away from potions.

It was all alchemical magic, right?

She's found a recipe online, and they've got all the ingredients needed - all of which Willow has gathered on the small diningroom table, beside her open laptop where the recipe is.

All that's left are following the directions. How hard can that be, huh?

Spike has posed:
There's....things. Things for baking. This is so not Spike's usual fare of beer and whatever's in his fridge in front of the TV. He got a chance to learn to bake. He took it. With an open laptop, Spike is reading, looking more and more and more lost.

"Eight ounces of flour. Four teaspoons of butter? So....um....we mix all this together right?" he asks looking at the laptop. "This sounds easy. Look, it's only ten steps" Spike says. "And 30 minutes,too. Alright, we grab the..." he says scrolling back up to the directions.

Washing his hands, Spike...actually is wearing an apron. It...doesn't go with his duster or punk look. Rather it's like Spike's walked into a cooking class. Which to be fair he has, taught by Willow. He likes the witch, not that he'd admit it. He's got a reputation, but he's standing here, getting ready to bake. "Alright so. Step 1!" Spike says confidently. "Uh...the flour....how much is eight ounces?" he asks, confidence gone just like that.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Eight ounces?" Willow gives Spike a blank looking stare. "Don't these things usually come in cups?" Then, more to herself, "How'd I get a recipe without cups."

Spike gets a mostly confident nod about the mixing things together. "We're supposed to follow the steps. I don't know. Buffy says it has something to do with teh chemistry, which I don't get. I got good marks in chemistry. They never talked about baking."

It was true. Willow had gotten very good marks in chemistry. And they had never talked about baking, even if baking was, at its heart, chemistry. Chemistry specific enough that many recipes couldn't just be double if you wanted a bigger batch. That, too, baffled Willow. If one of everything worked, how come two of everything didn't?

Magic. Simply magic. And, potions were not her thing. Even if it had been some time since she'd blown anything up.

"Maybe I should find a recipe with easier measurements?"

Spike has posed:
Spike looks to Willow with a raised palm. "Okay.....it says add it all in a bowl an mix? If we can't work out the measurements. Throw it all in and mix, right? Forget the measurements on here. we chuck it all in. We go from there?" Spike asks looking like this is a great idea. "We cut it up into cookies. Buffy and the rest of the building won't know the diffference!" he says sounding totally and utterly convinced by that. Though he's not tossing everything in, yet. "Easier measurements?" he asks, glancing at the laptop. "Like teaspoons of flour, that kind of thing? Yeah that may help" he admits.

Secrtly he's still though wanting to throw everything in. He's had a thought that dissaudes him from it. Wrecking the oven.

Nodding at Willow, Spike looks amused. "Yeah, simpler recipe. I've never baked. You're only a bit ahead of me in baking prowess. Buffy would kick our butts and tell us what to do step by step and we'd just get it done. How does she know, you know, all the baking and food things? I'm honestly not getting how that woman is so talented with baking or cooking, Willow" Spike admits, shaking his head.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I think we're supposed to put all the dry things together and all the wet things together." At least that's what she remembers. Chocolate chip cookies weren't exactly a staple in her house. They were the really cool guilty pleasure treat she got when she went to Buffy and Dawn's place. Not that cookies were lacking at Willow's. Just not this kind, and not so many that she'd helped bake.

"No, cups of flour. It should be cups of flour. And teaspoons of other things." She had a vague notion that 8 ounces was like a cup, but she wasn't sure about that one.

"Here, let me see." Because she was the computer geek. Laughing, then, "Buffy would most definitely boss us about. She'd be frustrated by now that we couldn't figure out a simple recipe." Having to shrug at the how of it. "I don't know. Maybe she cooked a lot at home? My mom didn't like people in her kitchen. My babba either. It was weird."

Okay, Willow had never complained about not having to learn to bake or cook or anything like that. It wasn't like she couldn't do any of it, it was more she didn't care to and there were always other people willing to do it for her. While Buffy had been away she'd been managing, but as often as not it had been raw vegetables in hummus, or a peanut butter sandwich while she studied.

Spike has posed:
Spike just sort of gently stares at Willow for a few moments. Cookies were so not a thing when he was....human once, circa 1800s. Or thereabouts anyway, as Spike shrugs, getting a cup and filling it with flour following her directions. Spike looks over from the flour, back to Willow, to the flour. "Are you sure that's right?" he asks, holding up the flour-filled cup to test it. Given he's done that, he sneezes and grumbles about it setting the cup back down one handed, he's at least polite enough to cover his mouth. Polite. Spike. Those words do, actually, go together.


"Yeah Buffy would point a stake at me and I'd be all no, I'm not getting staked today I'll do it" Spike says, "And we'd all make a good team" he adds with a smile creeping onto his face. He's trying not to give away that he actually likes Buffy. Then again, Spike's a strange one. Either way, he listens and looks to Willow, then the chocolate chips like he's gauging if she'll not notice if he eats one....then a few. Then the whole pack too, thinking better of it he motions for a spoon. "I got all the wet things to do, how about we split those up. I'll handle the dry things, you handle the wet things? Can I have a spoon then please?" he asks. Okay, what has Willow /done/ to Spike? Ordinarily, without this blasted chip, he'd be chewing on her neck. Instead, he'll soon be chewing on cookies. Spike's secretly enjoying this.R
Maybe he's finally maturing or growing up? That'd be a firt for him. Spike peers around the kitchen for things he saw on the recipe that Willow may have missed, then again he's not much of a cook either.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow gives Spike a blank stare until it occurs to her that she hadn't brought out spoons. Sppon, yes. Spoons? No. And if they were sharing the tasks, they'd need more than one.

Grinning, Willow agrees, "Deal. You do the dry, I'll do the wet. Only don't eat all the chips while I go and grab another bowl and some spoons."

She's about to go retrieve the items, but pauses long enough to inform, "I'm sure you separate them. I'm not really sure why, but the instructions say to add the wet ingredients to teh dry. Maybe so that they don't make lumps?"

She isnt' sure, but then again, potions were not a forte of Willow's. Her lack of baking prowess might explain that.

As it is, she's back in a flash with another bowl, and a number of spoons - many more than they'll need. Just in case.

"There. Now, wet ingredients." There's a list of them to be peered at and measured out.

Spike has posed:
Spike raises his hands. "You think I'd eat all the chocolate chips?" he asks trying his best to sound innocent, "Well while you're in the few moments you were gone to gt spoons, bowls and things" he says with a glance to the bowls and spoons a second time as he looks amused. Looking lost, Spike blinks a few times, he's feeling out of his depth here. Grr, Rawr, Kill. Bake? Yes. Bake cookies, as Spike looks thoughtful. "That sort of makes sense, the not making lumps bit, I really, really need to watch more cookery shows don't I? But. Passions!" Spike adds giving the wet ingreedients a disdainful look then to Willow.

Shaking his head Spike grabs a spoon, poking it experimentally into the dry ingreedients. "I got the dry things done, so....uh....we mix those in, and mix it all together then....scroll down the page and bake?" Spike asks peering at the laptop then Willow then watching her for a moment. "Ah come on, you deal with the wet things. They're just...ugh" Spike adds. Is he really refusing to put his hands in wet ingreedients? Yes. Yes he is.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Of course I think you'd eat all the chocolate chips," Willow says, trying to sound stern and ending on a giggle. "I'd eat them all too. This is actually the second bag of them I bought."

Turns out Spike's expectations of wet things is vastly overrated. There's no sticking your hands in them at all. Just measuring them out, and mixing well, which only takes a few minutes before she shoves the bowl at him. "It says you add a bit at a time and mix. Then when it's all mixed well, we put it in spoonsful on the baking sheet and bake them in the oven."

Spike has posed:
Spike wags a finger at Willow when she's trying to sound stern. "You're no better Willow" Spike says joining in with....as close to a giggle as he'll allow himself. Which is surprisingly close. "Yes. I'm wagging my finger at you, Willow Rosenberg" Spike adds through laughter, watching the bowl. "Okay so...so" he says taking a moment to get his breath back, though his eyes are lit up with mirth and mischief. "Now now, we'd better not eat all the dough we're baking" Spike adds with a smirk, fangs showing as he nods, carefully putting things in the bowl with a nod. A little at a time, a little here, a little there,as he begins stirring. "See this isn't all bad, is it?" he asks, moving the bowl back between them. "Okay, here we go. It's getting mixed, don't we need like...those paper things on the cookie tray?"

Yes. Spike said 'like....'. apparently Buffy's getting to him? Or, Spike's hanging around with college kids too much. Still, he is doing his best to get away with a mouthful of cookie dough off of the spoon he's finished mixing with.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow is likely just as bad. She did eat a package.

"I don't think you're supposed to eat raw cookie dough," Willow explains, while stealing a spoonful of the dough and doing exactly that - eating it. "I don't know why, though. Maybe the eggs?" She thought she recalled something about eggs and salmonella. "And what paper things? Like muffin cups?"

She looks very confused.

"We're making cookies?" But he is right, the tray should be greased or lined. Thankfully she's got some parchment paper so that saves them that trouble. "So, hey, can I ask you some things?"

He's handed a spoon to help put balls of cookie dough onto the baking sheet.

Spike has posed:
Spike looks amused, "I'm Not? But....it's tasty" he admits, then puts the spoon he's been using well away from the others. "Alright, new spoon, no more eating cookie dough. They are going on the tray, those cookie dough balls" Spike says. He's trying to sound stern then gives up when he realizes he's not scary while holding a spoon and baking equipemnt. Make that two spoons. He's not trying to show off, he's just got one spoon against the side of the bowl, the other with quick, methodical movements to put the cookie dough on the tray. he's not going to step on Willow's toes and grease the tray. Or literally step on toes. That hurts. The chip would repay the favor, too. Still, Spike looks at the bowl then the tray. "Okay so how many cookies....actually do we have a second baking tray? I'm enjoying this. Shhhh, don't tell anyone. Buffy will never fear me again if she finds out I'm...I'm....domestically gifted?" he asks, the last two words in a mock horrified tone as he craks up laughing. "Ah come on, you guys don't fear me anyway, what am I saying?" he asks with a grin, a grin coated in cookie dough. Exhibit A of Spike being a bad vampire boy. But he's at least trying to do good things, like...well....helping Willow out.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I think as many as fit on the tray?" The parchment paper makes it so that greasing isn't necessary. There'd been some in a drawer. Willow had no clue why they had it, though. "You have to leave spaces between the cookies, though. Like a finger or two wide. And you can't put two trays in the oven. It isn't big enough."

That much Willow knew. You baked them one tray at a time.

"I promise I won't tell Buffy, but how are things with you guys, though?" It hadn't been missed that the two were.. well.. chummy. "And has anyone seen Oz lately? Since I yelled at him and Buffy to quit treating me like we were still in highschool I haven't seen much of him. At all."

As in not at all. Then again, she lived with Buffy and she hardly saw her.

Spike has posed:
Spike keeps on putting dough balls on the tray as he considers how to say what he's thinking. "No I ain't seen Oz. I found a flyer for DAMB in the Bronze. Guess he's a big rock star now. How's that old song go...we're all big rock stars living in hilltop houses driving fancy cars...or something like that?" he muses. Spike shakes his head. "Typical Oz. Becomes a big rock star and forgets about us. Fine." Spike gripes, though it's clear he's upset by it. "I've a mind to sit down with him and have a word with that boy" Spike adds then looks serious, "Can't just go forgetting about your friends, can you?" Spike asks looking annoyed, "Even if you make the big time."

It's clear Spike's unhappy with poor Oz. Still though he's finishing up with the tray of cookies ready to go in the oven. "Buffy? Chummy? Oh, oh you noticed, okay. See, we realized there's a lot in common. I help her out on patrols. She doesn't stake me, we're on the same team really and I'm....what was it she said, pretty much a Scooby now. But yes, we're not frenemies. We're friends, at the very least" he says, not having any idea on meaningful relationships. Plus he's not going to give away he's trying to figure out thins re: him, emotions, Buffy. Willow's the last one he wants to reveal that to. Or, maybe she is, maybe she could help but now's not the right time.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"I guess?" Willow ponders, looking both worried (about Spike, or Oz, or both?) and maybe also a little hurt too. "I don't know if it's the fame thing. I think he didnt like hearing what I had to say. Everyone was trying to make me into Willow they knew in high school, like I hadn't lived any life since. I kept telling him he wasn't listening and things were going way too fast and I wasn't sure I wanted to pick up where we left off.." Willow heaves a sigh. "You think it's just the becoming famous? He is famous, right?"

She'd not looked. She'd been busy with her own problems. Plus, what if there were no news. What if he truly were just ignoring her and all she'd ever meant to him was a prize.

"Of course I noticed," Willow laughs. "I'm not stupid. You two were making mushyface and.. you know.." She gives a little shiver. "Anyway, I just wondered. Especially as, well, you know. Not seeing anyone for forever. Oz was even going to tell me when he was playing the Bronze - all of us - so we could make signs. I guess maybe that's stupid if he's you know, important now."

Spike has posed:
Spike shakes his head to Willow then sighs. "He never did. Yet he put flyers up. Don't get it, really Spike points out then nods to the tray. "Okay, those are done. I'll get to a second tray once these are done yes?" he adds and looks amused. Cookies sound real good right now. "On the other hand, you're you, Willow" he says opening his arms for a hug, if anything it's apparently the done thing with friends to make them feel better. Along with cookies, naturally.

~RSpike looks amused at the mushy face comment, "I was not!" he says a litle too quickly. Guilty. "Okay maybe. Maybe I...what if I was. I like Buffy, okay. it's not anything to be afraid of" he adds, trying his best to both jump further into this hole, while climbing out of it. Now's a good time to shut up, Spike...he thinks, changing the subject back to Oz and signs. "I thought people took lighters to concerts? Though I'd rather not burn the Bronze down with a bunch of people with lighters. Maybe I can put a lighter picture on a sign? Though that may not come off right" Spike adds with a confused tone to his voice, shaking his head. "Then again, there's a million bands out there Willow. You don't have to even remember DAMB exists, just find one you like that won't vanish on you" Spike adds, still upset over that. Maybe he's the one in need of a hug and a cookie?

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow sets the timer on her laptop for how long the cookies need to back, telling Spike, "But Oz is.. was. my friend." There, she'd admitted it. Willow wasn't sure that they /were/ friends anymore. "I don't want to go see some other band. And they don't let you do lighters anymore. Not for years and years. People mostly do flashlights from their cellphones now. Besides, the banners were for Oz. Not because I want to make banners."

She listens to the other, and wrinkles her nose at Spike, amused, "Yes I noticed. Everyone noticed. You were making eyes at her like you two were the only two people alive. Anyway, I'm not upset if that's what you're wondering." Buffy could take care of herself if she weren't interested in Spike.

Spike has posed:
Spike snorts, watching Willow with a grin, "Cellphone flashlights, well" Spike muses hands back on the spoons again, hug forgotten. "I hear you, Willow. I har you. Oz was your friend but he ditched evryone" Spike adds, shaking his head.

"I don't get it, and hey, hey, no fair" Spike adds raising his hands. "Alright, alright, guilty on that making eyes at Buffy thing. Guilty" Spike admits, glancing to the laptop then the oven again before leaning against the counter, not sure what to say to Willow about bands, Oz, everything. This isn't his area of expertise

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Well, if you see him before I do, say hi for me. You know. Maybe tell him we miss him?"

She'd wanted to not be pigeonholed into being his girlfriend, not be abandoned. Then again, they were all busy with their post-high school lives. Why should Oz be any different than herself?