Love and Jaffa Cakes
Lara Croft was many things. She was a doctor of archaeology, she was a celebrity (much to her chagrin), and she was considered by many to be a modern day adventurer. She was a survivor, and a hero, and a ferocity in combat. She was, on tuesdays, very tired. This was not due to some mystical cult, an ancient monstrosity, or even her insatiable girlfriend, now fiancee, Samantha Nishimura. It was because she went out for a run on tuesdays, and that run was over five kilometers long. As such, it was usually a relief to return home to the apartment she and Sam shared, to relax and let her heart rate slow down considerably until Sam saw fit to raise it again (which was happening increasingly often of late). However, if today went as always, it would not be worth our attention.
Lara picked the lock to their apartment door (for practice, she insisted when Sam once asked her about it) and stood for a moment in the doorway, savoring the heat. Sam hated the cold, and for once, the fact that their apartment was ten degrees warmer than the rest of the building was a relief. Especially considering it was seven outside, and she hadn't worn anything but a second shirt ("it's called endurance training, Sam"). After an indulgent deep breath, she mopped the sweat from her brow and opened the door.
Lara saw Sam was leaning against the kitchen counter in the next room, mug of coffee in one hand and phone in the other. She was wearing a sweater despite the fact that their apartment was a balmy twenty-seven degrees. Sam really hated the cold. She was giggling incessantly to herself.
Lara couldn't help but smile, just slightly. Sam had downloaded a game onto her phone that was just a ripoff of the Sims franchise. She'd made digital homunculi of the two of them, and had been putting their virtual relationship through its paces. Last time she'd checked, Lara had declared her character must have been suffering from a condition similar to stockholm syndrome. Sam's elegant reply had been to stick her tongue out at her girlfriend. Lara caught a glimpse of the screen as she stepped lightly around Sam to reach the cupboards behind the giggling woman. She and Sam were currently throwing every item in reach of their apartment at each other with cartoon-like zeal and effect.
Lara felt a swelling of affection for the woman beside her, one that disappeared as soon as she opened the cupboard.
"Where are my Jaffa Cakes?"
Sam jumped; she hadn't heard nor seen Lara enter. She'd been too absorbed in her game. She'd really meant to. Ideally, she'd have been able to drag Lara off to the bedroom before this particular confrontation. She should've known better though. Lara went straight for her comfort food after a run.
'Mental note:' Sam thought, 'install some sort of system to alert me when she gets home.'
"Er…" Sam began cautiously, "what Jaffa Cakes?"
Lara rounded on her, a dangerous fire burning in the archaeologist's eyes.
"I just bought a box yesterday, Sam." Lara rumbled, "What. Happened. To. My. Jaffa Cakes?"
A bead of sweat rolled down Sam's temple.
"Are...are you sure you put them in there?" Sam stuttered.
Lara's look was not impressed at her lame attempt to stall, but she began rummaging through the adjoining cupboards regardless, possessed of a determination bordering on the obsessive. Sam was routinely able to find every single piece of chocolate Lara hid in the entire house. Her mars bars? Gone during Sam's famously histrionic premenstrual stages. That was fine. Lara could tolerate that. Jaffa Cakes were entirely off limits. Sam had her disgusting ho-hos, Lara had her beloved and ambrosiac Jaffa Cakes, and never the twain shall meet. That was supposed to be how things worked. It was how things had worked ever since boarding school.
"Damn it! Lara fumed internally. "I put a ring on her finger not two weeks ago! Had I known...had I only known what awaited me down this road."
"Sam," Lara turned exasperatedly to her lover, "you don't even like Jaffa Cakes."
Sam looked back ashamedly, her face a curious mix of guilty pleasure and pleading for mercy. Then she did the sign. It was the universal catch-all. Her personal get-out-of-jail-free card. And with Lara, if unfailingly worked. The previously furious woman melted. Her expression turning to one of bemused exasperation and exhaustion.
"I'm going to get another pack," Lara began, straining to keep her voice even, "and a lockbox to put them in, and then were going to talk, alright?"
Sam nodded. Before she could try and say anything else, Lara had her satchel slung over her shoulder, and was already closing the apartment door. She'd left the car keys on the table.
"Oh God," Sam realized. "She's going to run it." It was another two kilometers to the nearest store that sold Lara's particular brand of spongy, chocolatey, snack.
With a sigh, Sam spun and turned off the camera she'd hidden in the kitchen windowsill, behind the curtains. She'd been filming their domestic life for quite some time. Usually she told herself it was just for stock footage; Lara had let Sam do quite a few documentaries on her exploits in the past few months. Secretly, she was planning on editing together the most awesome home-movie movie ever, and totally embarrassing Lara with it.
"And you too, little guy." Sam smiled, once again performing the sign by patting her ever-so-slightly bulging belly. "Don't worry; mama just ran out to get you some more Jaffa Cakes."
A/N: Don't mess with the Jaffa Cakes.
Oh God, I just couldn't get this out of my head once I'd started. I read a bunch of SniperCT and Asynca's wonderful series of one-shots, and this just stuck in my head.