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Story Notes: Spoilers: Chimera

A/N: This is what you get when Jara eats her ice cream in front of the computer with an empty word file waiting for her.

Big thanks to chiroho for the speedy beta *huggles*


The ice cream melts the moment it enters the warm cavern of your mouth. The tasteless inox steel of the spoon rests on your tongue as the creamy substance swamps your senses. It’s a new flavour, one you’ve never heard of before. You’re not even sure how to pronounce the name. It’s made from a certain type of cookie you only find in some west European countries - at least that’s what the waiter told you. You have no clue if he told the truth, but right now you don’t give a damn because it tastes good, just right.

You turn the spoon in your mouth and lick it clean. It amuses your companion, his eyes hungrily fixed on your lips. You rest your elbows on the table and lean forward. He’s been distracted - his attention more on you, than on the rapidly melting ice cream. A shame, he doesn’t realise what he’s missing out on.

Ever so slowly you pull the spoon back out of your mouth, lips slightly pouted, and you watch him lick his lips at your actions. You’re proud at how rapidly you managed to discover what drives him to distraction.

His defences are down, and his bowl of ice cream is left unprotected. If he’d been looking you in the eye, he’d have been able to see your plan of action. He hasn’t though, and before he can do anything you lean forward and grab his dish.

“Hey!” He protests, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You merely smile back, and happily start eating his desert.

“I thought you only stole chocolate,” he remarks.

You grin and answer with your mouth full, not caring about the disapproving look he throws you. “This is my new favourite flavour.”

He chuckles, and relaxes back in his chair. You’re surprised he’s not trying to steal the bowl back from you. “Is it now?” He drawls lazily, his eyes betraying that he is anything but relaxed, and obviously up to something. You’re not worried though. You’re in public, so whatever he comes up with can’t be that bad, and anything he’ll come up with when you get home will be worth it.

“I thought chocolate was your favourite.”

You shrug. “Changed my mind.”

You take another carefully considered spoonful of ice cream.

As you close your eyes to enjoy the sweetness fully, you hear him whisper; “Poor chocolate, so easily forgotten.”

You vaguely remember seeing a movie where the female leads were discussing relationships. You’re not entirely sure what exactly was said, but you do recall the comparison being made between men and ice cream flavours. How sometimes you crave an exotic taste, and fancy yourself liking it better than that good, old, trusted chocolate. They are phases, moments you move through, because in the end you’ know you’ll end up in front of the TV with a big tub of chocolate ice cream, preferably with chocolate chips, crying your eyes out over an old black and white movie.

You open your eyes and look at Pete, and suddenly feel guilty for not ordering chocolate. But then you remember you have a box of chocolate hidden in the back of your freezer, and you feel a little better. You can try other flavours - there’s nothing wrong with that. You might even like them. That’s alright too, because you know when the timing is right, you’ll want to eat that chocolate - and it will be there waiting for you.

“No, not easily.”




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