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fandomweekly2016-07-04 08:53 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote in fandomweekly2016-07-04 08:53 pm
Entry tags:
[#019] One Thing Only Cures My Blues (Original)
Theme Prompt: #019 – Sweet Tooth
Title: One Thing Only Cures My Blues
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 587
Summary: You have a piping bag of frosting in one hand and the other is resting under your elbow as you stare it down, with Ben leaning back against the counter next to you.
Notes: I don’t often write in second person, but sometimes I do? Enjoy.
“I have to say, this hasn’t been your best idea.”
You look over at your husband, then back to the giant mass that claims to be a cake in front of you. The intention was to make it a layer cake, for your daughter’s fifth birthday party, but it is not working out as intended. You have a piping bag of frosting in one hand and the other is resting under your elbow as you stare it down, with Ben leaning back against the counter next to you.
“You think?”
The sarcasm is obvious and he slings his arm around your shoulders with a smile. His easy-going attitude has always been one of the things you love about him, but you know when you’re being teased and this is one of those moments.
“I guess it could be worse,” you sigh. “It could be purple.”
There’s a moment of quiet contemplation, eyes scanning the massive pile of cake. It’s almost an uncomfortable stretch of silence, before he finally speaks again.
“It could be purple.”
It's a repetition of what you just said five minutes earlier, but it's the tone that's changed. Instead of doubt and revulsion, it's an air of calm consideration, and you turn to the man standing next to you, regarding him almost as though he's grown a second head. Then, you turn back to the piles of cake in front of you and giving it a second glance.
“It could?”
“It could.” Ben shifts to cross his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the counter casually as though this is a consideration he made every day. “It could be a giant purple ... monstrosity of a cake. She'd love it.”
“You only say this because you don't have to eat it.”
“No offense, Lena, I love you to pieces, but if you were baking it, there was no way I was going near that thing.”
Your eyes narrow in response to that, almost as though you're offended by the sheer audacity of the statement. “I can cook!”
“Yes, you're an excellent cook. But cooking and baking are two very different beasts, and ... honestly I'm not too sure about this one.” His hand comes up to brush against his chin, considering the options in front of him quietly. “Also, you're missing the fact that our daughter, gem that she is, is a grand total of five years old. She's not looking for incredibly beautiful cake art. She just wants to consume as much sugar as her tiny little body will allow without exploding and then proceed to bounce off the walls like a pinball until the demon inside her is sated.”
You turn another look on him, this one milder than the ones previously. It's mostly because you know he's right. The only reason they're actually able to have this conversation calmly is because it's after midnight and Clarissa has been in sleep for the hours which the cake was baking. Otherwise, they would be out a cake and be up after midnight trying to coerce her into some kind of sleep. You sigh heavily, turning your attention back to the cake and considering carefully for a moment.
Then you stop, take a step back so that you're leaning next to him, and consider it some more.
“It could be purple.”
“See? Knew you'd see it my way.”
You don't even skip a beat before taking the piping bag of frosting and squirting some of the white frosting on his face.
Title: One Thing Only Cures My Blues
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 587
Summary: You have a piping bag of frosting in one hand and the other is resting under your elbow as you stare it down, with Ben leaning back against the counter next to you.
Notes: I don’t often write in second person, but sometimes I do? Enjoy.
“I have to say, this hasn’t been your best idea.”
You look over at your husband, then back to the giant mass that claims to be a cake in front of you. The intention was to make it a layer cake, for your daughter’s fifth birthday party, but it is not working out as intended. You have a piping bag of frosting in one hand and the other is resting under your elbow as you stare it down, with Ben leaning back against the counter next to you.
“You think?”
The sarcasm is obvious and he slings his arm around your shoulders with a smile. His easy-going attitude has always been one of the things you love about him, but you know when you’re being teased and this is one of those moments.
“I guess it could be worse,” you sigh. “It could be purple.”
There’s a moment of quiet contemplation, eyes scanning the massive pile of cake. It’s almost an uncomfortable stretch of silence, before he finally speaks again.
“It could be purple.”
It's a repetition of what you just said five minutes earlier, but it's the tone that's changed. Instead of doubt and revulsion, it's an air of calm consideration, and you turn to the man standing next to you, regarding him almost as though he's grown a second head. Then, you turn back to the piles of cake in front of you and giving it a second glance.
“It could?”
“It could.” Ben shifts to cross his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the counter casually as though this is a consideration he made every day. “It could be a giant purple ... monstrosity of a cake. She'd love it.”
“You only say this because you don't have to eat it.”
“No offense, Lena, I love you to pieces, but if you were baking it, there was no way I was going near that thing.”
Your eyes narrow in response to that, almost as though you're offended by the sheer audacity of the statement. “I can cook!”
“Yes, you're an excellent cook. But cooking and baking are two very different beasts, and ... honestly I'm not too sure about this one.” His hand comes up to brush against his chin, considering the options in front of him quietly. “Also, you're missing the fact that our daughter, gem that she is, is a grand total of five years old. She's not looking for incredibly beautiful cake art. She just wants to consume as much sugar as her tiny little body will allow without exploding and then proceed to bounce off the walls like a pinball until the demon inside her is sated.”
You turn another look on him, this one milder than the ones previously. It's mostly because you know he's right. The only reason they're actually able to have this conversation calmly is because it's after midnight and Clarissa has been in sleep for the hours which the cake was baking. Otherwise, they would be out a cake and be up after midnight trying to coerce her into some kind of sleep. You sigh heavily, turning your attention back to the cake and considering carefully for a moment.
Then you stop, take a step back so that you're leaning next to him, and consider it some more.
“It could be purple.”
“See? Knew you'd see it my way.”
You don't even skip a beat before taking the piping bag of frosting and squirting some of the white frosting on his face.
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