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Eggnog Milkshake!

Title: A Personal Batch
Prompt: Eggnog 9: (Sugar) Cookies/Gingerbread
Extra: Milkshake (Heartstrings Verse! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay~)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,084
Summary: Clara has a little homemade present for her friend.
Story Note: Teeny wanted me to introduce Clara more thoroughly, as I created her… But according to Shayna it’s a milkshake! Soooo *whoosh*

She holds the small wicker basket by its handle, reaching up and knocking upon the door. She's a bit nervous, but only just. After all, she's been here before, and the inhabitants of this apartment are her old friends... Sure, they've only known each other for a few years, but it seems like forever.

What more could she want? She had a good job as a teacher, her students appreciated the work she did for them... one student even agreed to having supplementary lessons after school. And THAT was the exact reason why she was able to stand in front of this door. How else would she have gotten to know the student's father... or, rather, fathers?

The door opens suddenly, and a young man pokes his head out. She recognizes this man almost immediately, and her green eyes brighten a little. "Merry Christmas, yaa hayaati!" she says cheerily, her speech seasoned with an English accent, cheeks rosy and reddish-blonde hair threatening to fall into her eyes. A bit perturbed by this, she blows it out of the way none too discreetly, then returns her attention to the man at the door. "Do you mind if I come in for a while? I brought something I think you might like..."

The young man grins, not only at the nickname but also at her very presence. It's a pleasant surprise, to be sure. "Not at all, Miss Clara," he replies, opening the door wide enough so that she can step in and then reaching out to brush the snow out of her hair and jacket.

At her own nickname, though, she blushes a little—and not just from the sudden heat. "You don't have to call me that," she mumbles. "I don't call you Mr. Pfeiffer—"

"Because I told you not to—"

"Well, if I can't call you Mr. Pfeiffer, why should you call me Miss Clara?"

"Because it sounds better than just plain old Clara, of course. Now take off your coat and be done with it," he says firmly, reaching out to take the basket and place it on the coffee table so that she can unbutton her coat. "Cold, isn't it?"

"...Just a tad," she says jokingly, pulling off her plaid scarf and shaking her hair out a bit before hanging it up with her coat and stepping out of her shoes (Heaven forbid she walk around Amadeus Pfeiffer's apartment in shoes!). "Well, enough that it's snowing."

But Amadé is hardly paying attention to what she is saying. Instead, he is eyeing the small wicker basket that he had taken from her. "What's in there?" he inquires, fingers stretching out to take the handle, to pull away the cloth that is covering the basket's contents.

"Ah ah ah..." She grins and snatches the basket back. "You have to guess what's inside first before you can take it... of course, it's for you. And you don't have to worry about whether I'll have some or not. I'm sure I can make some more... I've been planning on seeing Esteban down at his office and giving him some as well... he really loves it."

"Loves WHAT?" Amadé demands as he reaches for the cloth again. She can't possibly be teasing him this badly!

Her smile grows more mischievous. "I said you can't have any until you guess what's inside, yaa hayaati. Follow the rules for once!"

"I follow the rules just like any other person should!" he says hotly, folding his arms across his chest. He knows she's only joking, but she's sure doing a good job of it. Of course he follows the rules! Now... now he just has to follow HER rules... He sighs in defeat. "All right, all right, you win. Do I at least get a hint to help me figure out what's inside?"

She bites her lip in thought, looking toward the ceiling, wondering if she really should give him a hint, or if she should milk it for all it's worth. She decides against the latter of the two, though, mostly because he has been so kind to her during these past years, especially when she first moved her and met him and his daughter.

Granted, she had to help him first—he did crash into a lamp post after all—but for the rest of the time, it's him helping her. She still can't forget the time that she fainted in front of the library and he took her back to his own apartment, laying her on his couch and waiting for her to wake up. It wasn't until midnight that she actually did, and she'd broken down, but at least he had been there to comfort her.

"Sure," she finally says with a sweet smile, tucking some hair behind her ears, "but you have to close your eyes, and you have to keep them closed. Otherwise it won't be as fun..." She pauses, seeing the slightly worried look in his eyes, and laughs. "Don't worry, yaa hayaati, it's nothing bad. I made it myself, and I think you might like it... So, what are you waiting for? Close your eyes, close your eyes!" She knows she sounds very much like a young girls urging her parents to open their presents, but she doesn't care. She's three years younger than he is, and even Angeline confused her for his sister the first time they met. She has every right to act like this, doesn't she?

"Oh, FINE!" he agrees, snapping playfully, and screws his eyes shut. He hears the rustling of the cloth and smells something... strangely sweet. And a few moments later, he feels something prodding against his lips, urging him to open his mouth, and so he does, biting down on something sweet and spicy at the same time. It's delicious, he thinks as he swallows, and he knows exactly what it is now.

"Gingerbread..." he says softly, lips curving upward in a gentle smile, and opens his eyes. Her eyes are bright but questioning, waiting for his approval. And his smile grows even more. "Miss Clara... you made me gingerbread?"

She frowns a little. "Is it that bad? All the other batches were awful... I gave you the best one." She looks down, almost ashamed of herself.

"ARE YOU KIDDING?! THAT'S THE BEST GINGERBREAD I'VE EVER HAD!!!" He laughs after that and pulls her into a hug. "You better make another batch if you want Marc to try some... this basket is MINE."


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 10th, 2008 12:10 am (UTC)
(unless she made him riz au lait... that would be funny!)
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 10th, 2008 12:13 am (UTC)
Clara: o///o;;
(He is SO lucky he's not Julius...)
I'm going to invade your rocketmail now, kthxbai.
Dec. 10th, 2008 01:16 am (UTC)
Nice introduction to the character. I like her a lot. I'm impressed that managed to keep up the suspence about what was in the basket right up until the end. Now I want some gingerbread :)
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )


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