A.N. Here's my week 3 entry - short but sweet (pun absolutely intended). I'm going away on a camping trip and wifi isn't guaranteed - I have it tonight at the B&B (and oh my Horowitz I have a double bed to myself and it's so soft, can I keep it?), but I've captured the moment that I wanted so I won't drag it out and risk not being able to enter. By the way, I started a tumblr under the same username, so come say hi!
If you want some musical accompaniment, I had "Stay" by Kristina Cox stuck in my head while I wrote this.
Disclaimer: Nope, Alex Rider isn't mine.
"Alex!"
Jack hammered on the door but didn't wait for a response, storming inside. The sight of the teenager sitting at his desk, face completely innocent behind the livid bruises,only made her falter for a moment.
"I know you took them!"
"Took what?"
"My cookies! I only baked them this afternoon."
"And I've been doing my homework all evening, while you were in the kitchen. When would I have had a chance to steal them?"
Jack narrowed her eyes in exaggerated suspicion. "How do you know I was in the kitchen?"
"You're always there after dinner."
"Well then, how would you explain the disappearance? They're there one minute, and then next time I turn round, poof! Nowhere to be seen."
"Maybe you ate them. Subconsciously." His lip twitched as he tried not to smile.
"Now I know you're lying. And what's that - ahah! - proof!" She attacked the corner of his mouth where a few telltale crumbs remained with her thumb. He fended her off half-heartedly.
"Okay, okay! Sorry, Jack," Alex said. But he was grinning and didn't sound very contrite.
"Did you really eat them all?"
"Um…"
"I can't believe you. Do you know how long it took me to make those?"
"Jack, you used ready-made dough."
"So? It took me at least fifteen minutes to roll and cut those out! You know I never cook anything that takes longer than ten." She flopped onto his bed. "How did you manage it, anyway? You're right, I was in the kitchen all evening."
He shrugged. "You were listening to music and dancing - nice moves, by the way. And I'm very good at tiptoeing. It's what makes me such a great spy."
Jack winced. It wasn't long since he'd come back from a mission, covered in bruises, and she hated hearing it mentioned. "Just because you're good at tiptoeing, it doesn't mean you're meant to be a spy."
He caught her more serious tone and sighed. "I'm sorry, Jack. I know it's not fair to you. But it is what I'm meant to do."
"No, it's not," she said angrily. "You're meant to be in school, studying and going out with friends and worrying about girls, not saving the world and hurting yourself in the process!"
To his horror, she started to cry. He pushed his homework away and went over to her, sitting on the bed and pulling her into a hug. Neither of them spoke, just being there for each other, until the fit passed into occasional hiccups.
"Stay," Jack said, voice muffled against Alex's hoodie. She lifted her face and looked him in the eye. "Stay, Alex. Say no to them. Please."
He looked away, unable to tell her that he couldn't, that he'd never be able to escape MI6, and that it wasn't just because of the blackmail. He'd been given a chance to get out and start over and he'd run straight back to danger and espionage. It was time to stop lying to himself.
Something caught his eye on the desk and he leaned over, moving a page of maths questions to one side.
"Here," he said, giving Jack the last cookie. "Turns out I didn't eat them all."
She smiled weakly. "What did the world do to deserve someone as sweet as you?"
He hugged her again as she nibbled on the biscuit and neither of them mentioned MI6, but it wasn't far from their minds.
A week later, Jack came home to a plate of five cookies, the chocolate chips arranged into wonky letters: sorry. Alex wasn't there and she knew at once that he had been sent on another mission. The house, as always when this happened, was quiet and too big for one person.
She bit into the "s" and it tasted bittersweet.