Flash Fic Friday

**This week my prompt was simply thus: Bart, Greg, peaches. Enjoy!**

I loved my job, but I hated working Saturdays. It was even worse today, because my boyfriend and I been planning on starting our day with a trip to the Farmer’s market. I loved watching Greg at the market. The joy he got at all the interesting food and products made me smile. But he understood the demands of my job, and he hadn’t been overly disappointed that we couldn’t go. In fact, I thought I’d been sadder than he was.

But finally, I was home. I’d managed to resolve all major crises and it had only taken five hours. I was tired and dragging, but just the thought of sitting down to a nice dinner and then quiet time with Greg kept me going.

“Bart?” Greg called when I opened the door.

I cringed. Everyone in my life called me by my last name–even my parents–except Greg. He thought it was cute, though I disagreed. But I loved him, so he could call me whatever he wanted.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Don’t come in here!”

I froze, then cocked my head and listened. A bang and a crash let me know he was in the kitchen. I was instantly suspicious.

“Why not?”

“I mean it, Bartholomew! Don’t come in here!”

Greg was full-naming me? That was sure to mean trouble. I ignored his directive, and jogged right through the house. And stopped dead on the threshold to the kitchen.

He was a mess. Sweat had flattened his dark hair to his head. Flour and something sticky covered the apron he’d donned, and more flour streaked his cheek. He stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth open like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. The counters fared no better, covered in bowls, pots, knives, and pans. The sink was filled with sudsy water and even more dishes. And overlaying it all was the sweet, delicious scent of peaches.

“You don’t like peaches,” I said stupidly.

The anxiety on Greg’s face eased instantly, and he gave me a glorious smile. “Nope. Sure don’t. But you do.”

I nodded, still not quite sure what I was seeing. It took a minute to put the pieces together. But the pile of peach skin and pits next to the cutting board, and the sweet scent of baked goods finally sank into my brain.

“Oh. Honey.”

Greg’s grin got wider, and then he grabbed a towel to wipe off his hands before crossing the floor to get to me.

“You were so sad about missing our trip this morning, so I thought I’d go anyway and get you something to cheer you up. And that stand we like had peaches!” He gestured around, and I chuckled. “But you couldn’t eat a peck of peaches yourself, so I decided to cook. So now there’s a cobbler for dessert, because I know that’s your favorite. And I made a peach compote that should store fine in the fridge for a few weeks. You can have that on toast or on ice cream or I could make crepes tomorrow, if you want and–”

I cut him off by grabbing him and kissing him. He melted into me for a long moment, letting me have control, and then pushed me away.

“I’m gonna get you all dirty.”

“So what?” I shrugged. “You smell like peaches. I want to eat you up.”

He gave a tiny moan, and his breathing sped up. “That works too.”

We’d get to that. But first, I had to make sure he knew how much I appreciated it. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He bit his bottom lip. “I thought I had enough time to get everything cleaned up before you got home though.”

“I hurried,” I soothed, letting him know it wasn’t his fault. Then I shot him a teasing wink. “Though why you could possibly need all these dishes…”

He laughed, and smacked my arm. “You know I use way too many dishes. It’s a sickness. I can’t help it.”

I pulled him in again, not caring that I’d get flour, peach juice, and who knew what else all over my clothes. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you. You’e welcome.”

“Now.” I clapped my hands. “Let me help you get this mess cleaned up. And then let me help you get yourself cleaned up.” I wiggled my eyebrows, and Greg’s breath caught. “And then, when we have the energy again, I’d love to have dessert.”

Pupils blown, Greg licked his lips and then nodded. He turned, tripped over his own feet, and then set to work. After a moment, my heart full to bursting, I followed him.

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