Genres: Slice-Of-Pie, Um, Life, Fluff
Summary: A quiet moment in the Kent kitchen. And pie. ;)
Date Of Completion: April 4, 2009
Date Of Posting: April 11, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 509
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for svgurl for the Food Fic Prompt Request. Pairing: Clark/Bruce. Prompt: Pie. :)
The pie in this story is apple. My new icon is cherry. Pretend. ;)
The entire series can be found here.
Bruce entered the Kent kitchen, the screen door banging shut behind him.
The smell of apple pie engaged his senses, mouth watering as he walked over to the counter. It was neat as a pin, canisters labeled Sugar, Salt, Coffee, and Tea lined up in an orderly row, the toaster set by the wall, a handmade cozy covering it. A cookie jar in the shape of a Keebler Elves’ tree factory was filled with chocolate peanut butter goodness.
And there was pie.
Half of Martha’s prize-winning country fair pie was already gone, but half still remained. It was still two hours until lunch.
Hell, why not?
He took out a plate from a cabinet, cutting a slice of pie and pouring a glass of lemonade. He sat down at the kitchen table with its blue-checked tablecloth and cobalt-blue vase of sunflowers, watching fat, fluffy clouds scudding across a blue sky through the window over the sink.
Blue Willow plates lined a shelf high up on the opposite wall, and the refrigerator on his side of the table was decorated with colorful magnets, his lips quirking at the sight of the Superman and Batman symbols carefully lined up right next to each other. A Robin magnet held a yellow slip of paper with Martha’s neat handwriting detailing a short grocery list: wheat bread, orange juice, pancake mix, paper towels. Underneath it was a long, long list of items in Clark’s equally-neat handwriting, all food...tuna, Prego sauce, whole wheat pasta, Fritos, Keebler Elves' chocolate peanut butter cookies, lettuce, tomatoes, asparagus...Jonathan’s scrawl had added goldfish crackers at the very bottom.
Smirking, Bruce leaned over and used the Supergirl pen attached to the refrigerator and wrote dark chocolate underneath that in his bold script.
The octagonal wall clock ticked as a breeze ruffled the muslin curtains, the plant on a shelf by the window trailing bright green leaves down to the counter. Sunlight poured in, the yellow-painted walls absorbing and reflecting it back to create a sunny cheerfulness that Bruce always associated with Clark.
It was a beautiful day, smelling of sunshine and apple pie.
A far cry from Gotham.
He needed to be away from Gotham.
Not forever, never that, but sometimes he needed to bask in sunshine and eat apple pie.
Sweet apple pie, with just a hint of tartness, a light dusting of cinnamon teasing his tongue.
Clark walked in, gently closing the screen door. Blue eyes met his, and Clark cut himself a slice of pie and poured a glass of lemonade.
Clark sat down, taking a bite of pie, closing his eyes in orgasmic bliss, sunlight a halo around his head. Bruce’s mouth twitched.
Clark sipped his lemonade, Bruce doing the same.
It was natural, without artifice, not too sweet and with a touch of tartness, but tasting of sunshine.
The only sounds were the soft whisper of the curtains blowing in the breeze and the ticking of the clock as both men continued to eat their pie in silence.
A comfortable silence.
Pie always made things better.
(this counter installed 6/18/10)