“I- honey, it’s okay..”

Currently, Caitlyn’s standing in the kitchen. Gloved hands pulling you impossibly close as you cry over a batch of burnt brownies, trying to console the endless tears. And, they’re not even that bad—just a little burnt around the edges, but that’s all.

Taking a piece of them, she decides that showing you is better than telling. And god damn can you bake. It’s chocolate-y, it’s moist, it’s gooey. Everything that makes a good brownie in her book.

“My goodness, this is amazing!” she moans, hand held over held over mouth because, hello, manners. “You have nothing to be crying over, these are spectacular.”

Then, she’s kissing your forehead. Assuring you for the thousandth time that there’s no need to remake an entire pan when these are good as is.

“I should buy you a bakery, eh?”

Maybe compliments will cheer you up.