Fic: Pumpkin Pie (1/1)
Title: Pumpkin Pie (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, Alfred, Dick
Fandom: DC Comics
Genres: Fluff, Holiday, Humor
Rating: G
Summary: Clark can't wait to eat his mother's pumpkin pie.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC Comics does, more's the pity.
Date Of Completion: November 26, 2024
Date Of Posting: November 27, 2024
Word Count: 543
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The kitchen of Wayne Manor always smelled good, Bruce thought. Of course, Alfred was the reason for that. No one was his culinary equal.
Bruce amended that thought. The exception was Martha Kent. She gave Alfred a run for his money, and vice versa.
This year the Thanksgiving dinner was being held on the Kent farm, but Alfred was making cranberry relish and a spicy Roma dish that Dick's mother had always made to bring to the feast. Dick was helping with both projects while Clark was eating apple slices while hanging around the kitchen.
If there was food, Clark was sure to be around. Whether it was because he had grown up on a farm surrounded by food or his Kryptonian metabolism, Bruce was unsure, but Clark was always hungry.
"Smells great, guys," Clark said.
Dick beamed. "Mom's dish will burn nice and hot."
"Burn is right," Clark said as he ruffled Dick's hair. "You need a gallon of water standing by."
Dick snickered. He returned to chopping apples.
Bruce did not consider Clark's statement much of an exaggeration.
It was warm in the kitchen, a counterpoint to the frosty November day outside. The smell of spices and fresh bread baking in the oven made for a cozy setting. Bruce took the last apple slice and Clark began peeling a new apple.
Clark stopped and sniffed. "Mom's baking pies."
"Isn't she supposed to be? It's only a few days before Thanksgiving," Bruce said.
"I'll be right back."
Clark super-sped out of the room, leaving behind a draft and apple parings blown off the table to the floor. Bruce picked them up and threw them away.
"Must be some emergency," Dick said.
"Must be," Bruce agreed.
Half an hour later Clark returned in costume.
"What are you carrying?" Bruce asked.
"A pie! Fresh from the oven," Clark proclaimed proudly, setting it on the table.
"Pumpkin," observed Dick.
"Right." Clark quickly changed into his casual clothes. He took out plates from the cupboard and silverware from a drawer.
"I thought Martha was baking for the holiday. Why would she give you this pie?" Bruce asked.
Clark's look of guilt set off alarm bells in Bruce's head.
"Well, I, uh, she didn't exactly give it to me."
Bruce's jaw dropped. "The Big Blue Boy Scout stole this pie?" Clark chuckled nervously. "What'd you do, swipe it off the windowsill where it was cooling?"
"Mom doesn't put them on windowsills."
"I can't believe this."
"Let's eat!" Clark began cutting slices of pie.
"Clark..."
"I couldn't wait."
"Thanksgiving is only a couple days away!"
"So?" Clark began filling plates.
"Can we get a slice before Bruce insists it goes back?" Dick asked anxiously.
"It's not going back," Clark assured him.
"You're a pie thief," Bruce accused his lover.
"I'm a pie lover."
"Your own mother!"
Clark took a bite of his piece of pie. "Oh, man, the spices!"
Bruce shook his head as Dick and Alfred began eating their slices. The wall phone rang and he went to answer it.
"Boy, is this good!" Dick said.
"Quite the culinary delight," Alfred said.
"Bruce won't be able to resist eating his slice," Clark said confidently.
"Hello, Martha. What's that, you say? You're missing a pumpkin pie?"
This story can also be read on AO3.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish.
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, Alfred, Dick
Fandom: DC Comics
Genres: Fluff, Holiday, Humor
Rating: G
Summary: Clark can't wait to eat his mother's pumpkin pie.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC Comics does, more's the pity.
Date Of Completion: November 26, 2024
Date Of Posting: November 27, 2024
Word Count: 543
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The kitchen of Wayne Manor always smelled good, Bruce thought. Of course, Alfred was the reason for that. No one was his culinary equal.
Bruce amended that thought. The exception was Martha Kent. She gave Alfred a run for his money, and vice versa.
This year the Thanksgiving dinner was being held on the Kent farm, but Alfred was making cranberry relish and a spicy Roma dish that Dick's mother had always made to bring to the feast. Dick was helping with both projects while Clark was eating apple slices while hanging around the kitchen.
If there was food, Clark was sure to be around. Whether it was because he had grown up on a farm surrounded by food or his Kryptonian metabolism, Bruce was unsure, but Clark was always hungry.
"Smells great, guys," Clark said.
Dick beamed. "Mom's dish will burn nice and hot."
"Burn is right," Clark said as he ruffled Dick's hair. "You need a gallon of water standing by."
Dick snickered. He returned to chopping apples.
Bruce did not consider Clark's statement much of an exaggeration.
It was warm in the kitchen, a counterpoint to the frosty November day outside. The smell of spices and fresh bread baking in the oven made for a cozy setting. Bruce took the last apple slice and Clark began peeling a new apple.
Clark stopped and sniffed. "Mom's baking pies."
"Isn't she supposed to be? It's only a few days before Thanksgiving," Bruce said.
"I'll be right back."
Clark super-sped out of the room, leaving behind a draft and apple parings blown off the table to the floor. Bruce picked them up and threw them away.
"Must be some emergency," Dick said.
"Must be," Bruce agreed.
Half an hour later Clark returned in costume.
"What are you carrying?" Bruce asked.
"A pie! Fresh from the oven," Clark proclaimed proudly, setting it on the table.
"Pumpkin," observed Dick.
"Right." Clark quickly changed into his casual clothes. He took out plates from the cupboard and silverware from a drawer.
"I thought Martha was baking for the holiday. Why would she give you this pie?" Bruce asked.
Clark's look of guilt set off alarm bells in Bruce's head.
"Well, I, uh, she didn't exactly give it to me."
Bruce's jaw dropped. "The Big Blue Boy Scout stole this pie?" Clark chuckled nervously. "What'd you do, swipe it off the windowsill where it was cooling?"
"Mom doesn't put them on windowsills."
"I can't believe this."
"Let's eat!" Clark began cutting slices of pie.
"Clark..."
"I couldn't wait."
"Thanksgiving is only a couple days away!"
"So?" Clark began filling plates.
"Can we get a slice before Bruce insists it goes back?" Dick asked anxiously.
"It's not going back," Clark assured him.
"You're a pie thief," Bruce accused his lover.
"I'm a pie lover."
"Your own mother!"
Clark took a bite of his piece of pie. "Oh, man, the spices!"
Bruce shook his head as Dick and Alfred began eating their slices. The wall phone rang and he went to answer it.
"Boy, is this good!" Dick said.
"Quite the culinary delight," Alfred said.
"Bruce won't be able to resist eating his slice," Clark said confidently.
"Hello, Martha. What's that, you say? You're missing a pumpkin pie?"
This story can also be read on AO3.
This entry has been cross-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment on either entry as you wish.