Thank you to my dearest, wonderful friend @toads-treasures for surprising me with this gorgeous art of Suri!! I am just so, so in love with this, as she completely captured Suri! Flowers from her favorite floral shop, coffee from Haley’s (check message on the sleeve!), and a fantastic fit & glam to start the day 🥰
pairing: alma greene/mason
word count: 457
note: just very very soft kitchen time for these two. something about the intimacy of anticipating needs, ig
It’s 2:00 pm on Sunday when Alma asks Mason to help with breakfast.
Morning is whenever they get out of bed.
She meanders through the pros and cons of pancakes versus french toast. Objectively, the latter wins, but she doesn't have eggs. Boxed pancake mix it is, and she'll add a little cinnamon to make up for it. Bananas on top before they go overripe.
It’s all the same to Mason. Maple syrup delivery systems in fried bread form. Her mouth will taste of it regardless, gourmand lips less sticky with each kiss.
Maple is tolerable on Alma.
He leans against the counter for most of it, hiding from the sun, passing things down from a top shelf when she asks. The big mixing bowl, the non-stick cooking spray. Each "thank you" comes with red cheeks and the grin he'd die for, and he asks if she needs anything else so he can have another.
She slices bananas, whisks the batter until it's smooth, asks "oh, do you mind if I play a little music while we cook?"
Little bitty pretty one.
It's too loud, but somehow it fits. He can't be annoyed when she's like this. When she let's him pull her away from the work, close to his chest, just to smile down at her for a moment.
"My dad sung this to me, I think." She smiles back. "It's stupid."
"It's terrible," he says, but he hums along anyway, swaying her in his arms before she flits back to the stove.
The kitchen smells sweet, warm. Cinnamon and flour. The sizzle of fake butter.
"I used to make breakfast with my grandma," she tells him, eyeing the rise of bubbles in the first pancakes on the griddle. She flips them when they're just right. "Well, I used to watch. She wouldn't let me near the stove. I'd just watch and hold the plates when the pancakes were ready. But it was about being with her, y'know?"
When Rebecca couldn't look at her, Alma was raised by her grandmother. It's not something she mentions often.
Mason tries to imagine what that feels like, not wanting to look at her. Out-of-place curls and glasses sliding down her nose and the methodical movement of her hands. Willfully ignoring this existence? It doesn't make sense to him.
She lifts a pancake off the griddle, and he doesn't wait for her to ask. The dish is there, and with the same sleepy, bashful word of gratitude, she stacks the pancakes.
Alma makes him part of this. Becomes one of his few meaningful memories, the same way he becomes one of hers.
It's Sunday afternoon, but their day is just beginning.
He watches her flip pancakes, and holds her plate.
you're hired as my PR person for my monthly spending. 🫵 just charge your fee to adam's account.
oh you're right i need to figure out my tagline too don't i. i haven't earned my "skin of a killer" yet unless we mean how i'm killin it at being so cool.
my twc wedding thought is that this (the first part) is morgan asking farah to be a bridesmaid at the extravagant fairytale princess wedding that dove is planning
