A/N: This is for the amazing, wonderful, talented Ethera, who has just been such a dear!

Clive was pouting. He'd always insist he did no such thing, but Flora knew him too well for that. He was honestly one of the most childish men she'd ever met, and when he didn't get his way, he almost always threw a fit.

"Just five minutes. No, ten. Okay, okay, five," he said.

"No, Clive," she said, focusing on measuring the correct amount of flour. A fond smile made its way to her pretty features (even at this age she still retained a youthful innocence, except now time had matured it) as she heard a thump and a loud indignant sniff. She didn't have to turn around to know that Clive had thrown himself on 'his' couch, facing the wall and no doubt pouting.

Alright, now the eggs, butter, and sugar, she thought, moving about the kitchen to find the ingredients.

Clive turned to look over his shoulder, his frown deepening as he heard his wife start humming, and more pointedly, when he didn't hear her paying attention to him. He sighed again, loudly.

Nothing.

"You know, I read an article that spouses who don't spend enough time with each other daily die sooner," he said conversationally, but the meaning was clear. He heard a soft laugh float from the kitchen.

"Clive, darling, I have to finish these. You know that!" she said as she mixed the batter.

"Or, you could take five bloody minutes and just ask me how my day was," he grumbled. Usually when he came home from work, Flora was always there to greet him, and they'd always talk over their days. It had become a sort of habit, and one that Clive was rather fond of. He was not please when he only got a absent-minded 'hello' ten minutes after he'd arrived.

She was filling the trays now, and with the expertise that only a woman with years of practice under her belt had, put the trays in the hot oven and neatened her counters in a swift, smooth motion. Closing the oven door with her foot, she wiped her hands on her apron and made her way to the living room. She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes, as she saw her husband. Even after being together for so long, they were still as happy as they were when they first married, if not happier. Because, she knew they could make it through anything, and the feelings they had for each other only solidified with each year.

With a content little sigh, she sat down next to him and smoothed out her skirt. Automatically, his arm went around her and she fitted into his embrace. She kissed his cheek, then sweetly said, "How was your day, dear?"

He sat up, giving her a boyish grin, the one that used to make her heart skip a beat. "I had a good day. I'm looking forward to tomorrow evening, though."

Flora smiled. "Oh yes. I can't believe Lottie's already graduating! It does seem like just last week when she was still a little girl, doesn't it?" As she said the words, she felt a bittersweet sort of feeling. She remembered the little girl, her light hair wound tightly in two plaits and a neat bow on the end of each, sitting on her kitchen counter, swinging her chubby legs back and forth and eating the chocolate chips when she though Flora wasn't looking. She remembered when she and Clive would read stories on rainy Sunday afternoons, glad to have an excuse to pull out the old picture books neither had the will to throw away.

Flora blinked out of her reverie when Clive gently nudged her, an understanding but sad smile on his face. He bumped her playfully. "Well, I still don't see why her mother couldn't make the cakes for the party," he said, trying to lighten his wife's mood.

It appeared to work, because she just rolled her eyes and explained, "Oh, it's no trouble. You know Lottie and Lucy love cupcakes. They won't eat any others but the ones I make. And, of course, Lucy's so busy these days."

Clive nodded. "I'm proud of her," he said suddenly.

Flora beamed and nodded; although they'd made good progress, Clive was still reluctant to let such sentimental things pass his lips. "I am too," she said softly, her hand on his.

They sat there quietly, just enjoying each other's company, when suddenly Flora shot up straight as a board, eyes wide.

"What was that? Did you see that?" she asked, her voice an urgent whisper.

Clive, who had fallen into a sleepy sort of lull, jumped at her voice, looking at her in confusion. "Dammit, woman, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you going on about?"

"I felt something on my leg!" she said, still whispering forcefully as she tucked her legs underneath her. Shaking Clive's shoulder, "Go find it," she urged.

He gave her a look. "How am I supposed to do that?" Then, suddenly he jumped as he felt something scurry underfoot. Looking down, he saw a rather large mouse. Flora yelped and backed herself against the couch while simultaneously pushing Clive forward.

"Get it!"

"I hate mice!"

"…What?"

"Bloody hell, don't make me repeat it!"

"Dammit, Clive! Aren't you supposed to be the macho beast here?"

"That was low."

"I know. Sorry."

"Apology accepted. Wait. Is that… smoke?"

"Oh god, the cupcakes!"

"Never mind that, there's a bloody mouse in here!"

"Clive, please! I'm not going to touch a dirty rodent!"

"You're crazy if you think I am!"

Lucy Walters opened the door, which revealed her parents, holding enough tupperware and presents to fill an entire room. She smiled warmly at them; they looked exactly as she had expected. Her father, hands shoved in his pocket and trying his best to look indifferent, and her mother, beaming and saying just the right things.

"Oh, there's my Lucy!" Flora Dove exclaimed, pulling her daughter into a warm hug. After nudging Clive, he too wrapped an arm around Lucy.

"I don't think I have enough room on the table for all of this!" Lucy remarked as she led her parents through the door. As each container and plate was sorted through, Lucy felt an uncharacteristic frown on her face.

"Mom… Where's the cupcakes?" she asked, almost a whine. Flora nearly smiled at this, as it reminded her of when Lucy was younger, but then remembered that she had forgotten a very important part of the evening.

"We had a small situation at home, dear. We're very sorry," she answered diplomatically.

Clive snorted. "And she's brought quite enough to compensate for it, Lucy, so no whining."

"Yes, Daddy," came the almost sullen reply.

"Now, where's Charlotte?"

"Here!" rang a clear, sweet voice as the girl in question descended the stairs, a bright smile on her face.

"Lottie dear, don't you look lovely!" Flora praised, and Clive nodded his agreement. Feeling a bit out of sorts with so many woman fussing over trivial things like clothes, Clive muttered an excuse and went in search of Lucy's husband, Oliver. The poor chap was still easily intimated by Clive, who even in his old age still stood tall and proud; an imposing man indeed. Clive didn't mind Oliver, but he found it to be good fun to make the man flustered.

"Granny, I thought you said you would bring me cupcakes. The ones you used to make for me when I was little," Charlotte said, a pout on her face.

"I know, dear. Your grandfather and I are both sorry, but there was a small glitch and we didn't have the time." Flora, noticing the deepening frown on her granddaughter's face, quickly added, "But we are both so proud of you, Lottie. Graduating with honors!"

She felt her heart warm when Charlotte's face broke into a large grin.

Hours later, when things had been celebrated and Clive had ensured Oliver still had a good dose of respect/fear for him, Lucy went up to her parents.

"I know you don't normally like to, but I think you two should spend the night here. It's awfully late to be driving."

Flora and Clive turned to each other, both thinking of the creature waiting for them at home, and shared a private smile.

"I think we just might take you up on that offer, Luce," Clive said with a small smirk.

A/N: BAM! I just switched everything up. Grandpa!Clive and Granny!Flora was fun to write, and I don't think there's a story out there with them at an older age.

The prompt I got was 'burn' 'cupcake' and 'mouse'.

How do you think I did? I'd love to know! ^_^