In a Jam

~a random bit of fluff by cat, totally unassisted for once so ha~

a/n: Reread Trickster's Choice the other day. I want MORE of it, darnit! Please, please tell me it's going to be a series. . . *sob* Meh, well, enough of my off-topic-ness. Gonna get on with it now.

disclaimer: I am Tamora Pierce and I own EVERYTHING. Worship me, mortals... whoops, no, just an identity crisis. I don't own jack diddly. . . *sigh*

~

"Just at least try it."

"But why?"

"If you're going to stay a human, you're going to have to eat human food eventually."

"I like bugs."

"You are so obstinate!" Nawat tilted his head and glanced at Aly blankly. She sighed. "Never mind." Aly popped the morsel of toasted bread into her own mouth and crunched on it thoughtfully. Nawat observed her for a few moments, then reached up to run his fingers through her hair. She turned and leaned against the table, feigning offense.

"You are only pretending to be angry," Nawat said after a short pause.

Aly turned back to him, grinning. "You're getting better at emotions," she remarked.

Nawat matched her grin. "Yes, I think I am." This time Aly let his hand reach her hair. It was growing again- parts of it had almost reached her shoulders. He leaned in to kiss her, but at the last minute she held up another bit of bread between their lips. Nawat hit the bread and snapped his head back, blinking. He licked a few crumbs from his lips experimentally.

"It's dry," he commented. "It has no taste."

"Well, you're supposed to put something on it," Aly explained. She hunted around and came up with a jar of fruit preserves. "This'll do." She fished a spreading knife out of a drawer and started to spread preserves on the toast. In the process she got it on her fingers as well. She blinked and went to lick it off. Nawat got there first, taking hold of her wrist and carefully removing the jam with his lips.

Aly stared at him in shock. "What happened to your aversion to human food?" she managed finally.

"I like this way of eating," he replied, with that odd look beginning to show in his eyes.

Aly didn't know what to think. She leaned on the counter again, looking away.

"I don't know this one," Nawat said. There was a long pause. ". . . Aly?" he ventured at last.

She turned her head slightly. Nawat caught and held her eyes, his face completely serious. Then, suddenly, he darted his hand up and lobbed a bit of toast at Aly. It bounced off her nose. She bit back a squeak of surprise. Without taking her eyes from his, she collected a small dab of preserves on the spreader, pulled back the tip and released, flicking jam squarely onto the middle of his forehead.

With that, the war was on. Laughing, Aly seized the jam jar and retreated to the other side of the table as Nawat pelted her with pieces of bread. She retaliated with more flicks of preserves, until both were spattered with jam and the kitchen was strewn with toast. Aly fumbled and dropped a sizeable blob of jam on the front of her tunic. When she hesitated in order to wipe it off, Nawat seized the opportunity to vault over the table, snatch the jar, and duck back around to his side. Realizing that he was absconding with her ammunition, Aly gave chase. Nawat held her off with one hand as he deftly placed the jar on a high shelf. He then caught Aly's waist and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply.

Aly didn't have time to protest. Rather than struggle, she simply wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Several minutes passed before they heard a cough from the doorway. They sprang apart immediately, and Aly whirled to see Chenaol standing just inside the doorway with a smirk on her face.

"Don't let me interrupt anything," the cook said wryly.

"Ah, we were- that is, I was- toast- and, um..." Aly faltered, blushing madly.

Chenaol held up a hand. "Tell you what, get this mess cleaned up before dinner and no one needs to find out about it."

"Sounds good," Aly agreed. The older woman winked and left the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Aly rounded on Nawat. "I'll deal with you later," she said with mock sternness, a mischievous glint in her eye matching the one in his. "First, though, let's find a broom. . ."

~fin~