Quick little note that you should all probably consider reading before diving into the story: this was not really written by me. My friend, a bit too shy to get an account asked me to publish this here for her. Since it was an absolutely adorable little drabble, I couldn't help but comply. She had gotten the request on Tumblr and made the original post there, which I would love putting the link to but the format of this site doesn't allow links inside stories. I might send it via PM if you are that interested, though.
"So, you say that all the éclairs just vanished on their own?"
The boy with the blue cap looked at her with wide eyes, knowing better than to lie yet unwilling to give himself in. What a shame that he didn't have the time to wipe that tell-tale smudge of chocolate from his face. Still, it would have been hard to not suspect on the one child in the house that had a healthy appetite anyway.
"I might have taken one…" Luke tentatively said, leaving his sentence unfinished on purpose.
Brenda wouldn't have been surprised if her son finished with 'maybe two or more' muttered underneath his breath. He didn't. Or at least, he didn't seem to have done so.
"Really? But there was more than one éclair when I bought them from the bakery. About…fourteen more. Do you know where all the other pastries ended up?"
Luke began to sweat. Brenda could tell it: but it would be best to try to get him to act correctly without knowing that she knew. He seemed ready to give in when…
"Now Brenda, you know how those mice Luke befriends always come in bunches and with empty stomachs."
She turned her head towards the father of the "defendant". Like always, he was wearing that impossibly stiff and formal outfit that she had seen him in ever since he became the mayor of Misthallery.
"If Luke's "friends" have been in the kitchen-"
"I assure you, those mice are a clean variety of rodents that are native to the area. They are about as clean as cats."
"Fine: I'll go back to the bakery and buy some more éclairs tomorrow. This time, I hope that they last a bit longer than two days."
Luke, completely unburdened, waltzed out of the kitchen. Though he stopped on the doorway and turned towards his parents.
"Toppy never eats without my permission. Please don't punish him for something that he didn't do! It might have been his cousins, but I'll tell them to not do that…"
On that note he walked outside the kitchen, up the stairs and into his room. Funny. If Luke didn't eat more than "one"; the mice were polite enough to not eat the food and she had only indulged in eating a single éclair after dinner… who ate the rest?
A mystery.
Who could it be, indeed?
It had to be someone that loved the fluffy pastries with as much passion as the boy or herself. It had to be someone that had access to the kitchen. It had to be someone that knew that the best time to sneak in a pastry (or ten) would be sometime before or after the generous dinner, when everyone was either busy on their own matters or lulled to sleep respectively.
"…Clark?"
Her husband froze on the doorway. He seemed to be headed towards his study again.
"It was you, wasn't it?"
His awkward giggle made it all the more clear that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
