Jean will say he is there for the peaches; soft and sweet and unable to grow in his colder climate. They’ll spend the day wandering between the trees, baskets on their hips, reaching up and pulling off the low hanging fruit, the sticky juice staining their fingers. At night they’ll eat them with fresh cream, sitting out on the veranda of Oliver’s Niagara home, side by side in the sultry summer air.
Every year, Oliver watches the harvest. He watches as peaches are carefully placed into the backs of trucks, which set off down his highways, bound for the markets and tables of his brothers and sisters.
It takes only a day for one of those trucks to cross the border into Jean’s home.
But still, every year, Jean comes himself, basket in hand.
For the peaches.
Matthew stood in front of the bookshelf, running his fingers over the glossy spines, trying to make a decision. One by one, the titles of the books slid under his fingers; Raising Strong Willed Children, Forging Family Bonds, Your Loving Family, Ten Steps to a Better, Stronger Family…
Across the bookstore there came a terrific crash, followed by familiar voices rising in anger.
With a sigh, Matthew swept the whole selection of books into his shopping basket.
I blame liz :P
“What?” Matt turned away from the crowd, struggling to hear the voice on the other end of the phone line.
“I said, do you get to keep the dog?!” Al bellowed back. “The one in the tartan!”
“The…dog?” Matt’s brow furrowed in confusion, until he spotted the small Scottish Terrier that had lead his athletes into the stadium. Oh.
“Because I was thinking,” Al continued on in a rush, “you know Kuma doesn’t really like other animals, sooooo I was thinking I’d do you a favour and take Haggis MacBark off your hands…”
“The dog, Matt,” Al said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll totally take care of him and play with him every day, and take him for walks. And he can totally play with the president’s dog-”
“Al!” Matt said, “its not my dog. It’s Scotland’s.”
“…Oh.” Even across the ocean, Al’s disappointment was clear as day.
Matthew thought that was the end of it until, two weeks later when they’d all gathered to discuss the world economy yet again, Al stopped mid-sentence, making a beeline across the conference room to sling his arm around Scotland’s neck.
“So, about those dogs….”
Matthew had learned, decades ago, that when Alfred swanned up to you, both hands behind his back and megawatt grin in place, it was best to mentally brace yourself for the inevitable outcome.
This time it was in form of an eye blindingly garish polyester running suit, patterned in the iconic red, white and blue of Captain America. It was, Alfred explained with shining eyes, the greatest thing ever to be created, and he was going to wear it during the half marathon next weekend.
When Matthew calmly pointed out that they had already agreed to wear matching t-shirts in a show of North American solidarity, the smile grew. Matthew’s heart sank. Alfred’s other hand whipped out from behind his back to proudly display the other “greatest thing ever to be created.”
The polyester this time was bright yellow, with black claw marks up the sides and bright blue shoulders. A drawn on belt with a large “X” in the middle completed the replica Wolverine shirt.
Alfred rocked on his heels in excitement. “North American solidarity, bro.”
Hahahaa 3 sentences, yeah right. Also, fun fact of the day: Ontario is home to 1/3 of the world’s fresh water.
It’s easy to forget that Oliver is more than just glass towers and grid locked streets, political halls and busy factories. It’s easy to forget that there is a side of him that runs just as wild as the rest of them. They have their mountains and their wide open plains, their huge swaths of ice and craggy ocean shores; it’s easy to forget the home of streams and rivers and ponds too numerous to count, the home of four Great Lakes, greeny blue and steely grey, some days silent and some days seething in their banks. It’s easy to forget that a joking push into the pool won’t produce a coughing, sputtering squawking mess…
Jean has exactly 20 seconds to remember all this, before a wet hand closes on his ankle in an iron grip. He has 5 seconds more to think “calisse” before he’s under the water as well.
theforgottenkey said: Niagara dorks, first vacation away from the kids
not exactly a vacation, but it was a perfect opportunity for this bunny. Also I can never ever stick to three sentences with these two.
Let it never be said that Alexander Rodgers did not know how to turn a situation to his advantage. No sooner had Alfred arrived, grin in place and loudly proclaiming that he was “here to spend time with his grandbaby!” than Alex had manoeuvered the man into babysitting Jonas while the two of them disappeared on a long needed date.
Trying to break a block soooooo
a) give me a character(s)
b) give me a theme, setting or object
I will write you a 3 sentence fic.
some cabbage patch au fourth of july. sorry it’s so horribly horribly late. OTL
“You do realize how much shit I’m going to get for this, right?”
“I’m serious. They’re already freaking out about ‘undue influence.’ I accidently called a chocolate bar a ‘candy bar’ the other day and it was like I’d said a dirty word.”
“Please. No one is going to freak out about this. How could they? Just look at her!”
“….she looks like the United States of America threw up on her- ow!”