#*fish guy voice* HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT THESE NOODLES WITHOUT MY CHEESE

[a-sweet-pea]

Soup or Stew

A lil borrower one-shot starring Elle and James. Been meaning to dust this off for a while but I never wrote the intro. She’s borrowing for snacks in the cupboard when the bean shows up unexpectedly (don’t they always?). Hope this can tide folk over until I get some fresh stuff going!

- x -

“A wee mouse, is it?” The giant took the bag of sugar off the shelf below her, and leaned forward to peer into the dark back corners of the cabinet. She took advantage of the fact that his attention was elsewhere to tiptoe from behind the honey jar to the tall rectangular package of biscuits. I wanted one of those, she thought sadly. Oh well, another day. Though he was out of sight, Elle could tell by the sound of it that the giant was taking jars and packets of things off the bottom shelf; at this rate, she would be through the hole and back down the ladder before he even started on top one. “Wee sleekit cowrin, timrous beastie, whit a panic’s in thy breastie.” His voice vibrated the wood shelf beneath her; it sounded even deeper and larger echoing off the walls of the cabinet. “Thou need nae start awa sae hasty, wi’ bickering brattle! Ah would be loathe tae run an chase ye, wi’ murd’ring prattle.”

Her heart was racing in her chest. Good, then don’t. Keep on reciting poetry and stop rummaging around. She slowly edged around the back of the biscuits, past an unopened jar of peanut butter, toward the hole in the back of the cabinet. Freedom. She went the last stretch of it crouching low to the ground. So low that her knapsack tipped, and two thumbtacks fell out with a clatter that could probably be heard three rooms over. Dammit. She turned her head, just in time to see the giant’s face eclipse the light in the cabinet opening.

“Whit the…” His eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened. She watched another silhouette come across the light; a hand open and reaching. No, no, no, she thought, racing to the shadows at the back of the cabinet. You idiot, how could you be so loud, you are the worst at sneaking. The hand thudded down onto the shelf and swept back and forth on the spot where she had just been. Which meant that it was between her and the hole, she couldn’t even make a run for it. But, maybe I can sneak past it. Slowly, the hand moved across the shelf away from her, the fingertips brushing against the peanut butter jar and a few loose grains of rice. Good, she thought, taking silent trembling steps toward the hole. You just stay over there for a bit. It did not. Something large and soft and warm prodded her leg, almost knocking her over.

“Ah, there you are.” 

Her stomach dropped; she hardly had time to turn around before she felt massive fingers curl around the back of her and lift her up and out into the light of the kitchen. 

I’m dead.

-

James couldn’t believe it.

But he had to, because there it was, tumbling off of his palm into a little trembling heap on the counter. Not a mouse at all. A tiny human figure, no more than five inches tall.

“How are ye so small?” She stood up and fixed him with a deer-in-the-headlights type stare. “And whit were ye daein’ in ma cupboard?” She straightened the hem of clumsily-sewn purple dress and opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. After a silent moment, she crouched down, tucking her head down against her knees and covering her head. 

“No questions.” A muffled high-pitched voice came from the shaking ball. “Just get on with it.”

“Get on wi what?” He leaned down a little further, taking in the small details of her appearance. She had mouse brown hair tied in a low ponytail with a scrap of red cloth. There was a patchwork bag at her side, in which James could just barely make out a few recognizable shapes; a few thumbtacks, a paper clip, a torn off bit of a yellow post-it note.

“Squishing. Poison. Eating me. Whatever you’re going to do.” 

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” 

The little voice was stronger, almost pouty. “I’m not afraid!” James chuckled, and the little ball shuddered.

“Naw, of course you’re no afraid. Ye’ve got nu’hin tae be afraid of.”

“Is that so.” The ball didn’t move. She was such a tense wee marble; he just wanted to scoop her up and give her a cuddle, but he resisted the urge.

“Naw, of course no. There’s nothing scary about me.”

“So, you’re not going to boil me into a soup.”

“Ah dinnae like soup.”

“A stew then.”

“Soup and stew are the same ‘hing.”

Her head popped up, and there was something of an edge to her tone when she spoke. “They are not!”

“Aye, they are.” James tried not to let the excitement show in his voice. Her eyes were bright and her expression delightfully contrarian. “Soup is meat and vegetables in water. Stew is meat and vegetables in water.”

“That doesn’t make them the same thing!” She uncurled and sat upright, cross-legged. “You might as well say sandwiches and pizza are the same thing, just cause they both have meat and cheese on bread.”

“I would agree with that.”

“No, you’re not supposed to agree with that.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to say, ‘That’s ridiculous, no one would say that.’ Because it is, and no one would.” 

James laughed. “Well, ah said it, and I’m no hearing a counterargument.”

“That’s because I’m thinking of one.” She stood up and paced back and forth, scratching the back of her head thoughtfully. Outwardly, James remained passive. Inside, his mind was racing, trying to catch up with the events unfolding on the counter. Such a tiny thing. Why was she in the cabinet? Does she live here? Was that why his guitar picks had been disappearing; had she been squirreling them away in her tiny bag to use as plates or shingle a miniature house? He’d been a bit peeved at the time, but he supposed if they were being put to use, that wasn’t as bad as them sliding between a crack in floor boards, never to be of use to anyone ever again.

“Ahm waiting.”

“Well, you can keep waiting!” She drew her mouth into a thin line, and James laughed.

“Aye, I can. I’ve got nu’hin’ better to do this evening.” He sat back and watched her pace back and forth across about 8 inches of counter space like she was the Great Mouse Detective, until suddenly she stopped and turned to face him with a triumphant expression.. 

“There’s two pieces!”

“Two pieces of what?”

“Bread! A sandwich has two pieces of bread with stuff in the middle. And it’s just for one person. A pizza is a big round bread with stuff on top of it. Also, it’s for multiple people to eat.”

“Speak for yoursel, wee yin. Ah can eat a whole pizza, easy.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

“Besides,” James crossed his arms and leaned over, resting them on the counter in front of her. He was close enough to see freckles on her face now, like grains of sand. “I thought the argument was about soup and stew.”

“It’s about establishing..a…precedent…” The girl froze statue still. Her gaze travelled up along his arm to his face. Her’s was a bit pale.

“Hey, dinnae go shy on me now.” He spoke as softly as he could, and watched as his breath blow a strand of hair away from her face. “I just wanted tae get a better look at ye.”

“W-why?” She clutched at the strap of her bag where it reached across her shoulder, like it was a safety harness.

“Have you ever seen oanybody my size before?”

“Yes, all the time. You guys are all over the place.” She gestured widely with her hands, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, I’ve never seen oanybody like you.”

“That’s because we’re very good at hiding.”

“No that good.” James said it with a smile, but immediately regretted it. 

“I guess not.” The girl shook her head and looked away from him; raising a miniscule hand to wipe her eye. 

“Hey, dinnae dae that!” Without thinking, reached out and curled his fingers gently around her. She gasped and her eyes were like saucers as he lifted her into the palm of his other hand. “It was a joke, that’s aw; ah didnae mean it. I’m sure you’re great at hidin’.” Her eyes were wet, and pink around the edges, but she wasn’t crying anymore. She appeared to have short circuited.

“You…you p-picked me up. I’m…in your hand.” Her little hands prodded his palm. 

“Oh, aye. Sorry. I jist, I wanted tae gie you a cuddle, you know?” James was nearly as sorry as he probably should have been, if he was being perfectly honest with himself. He’d wanted to pick her up again since he put him down. She was such a fascinating little creature. Holding her felt not unlike holding somebodies pet rat; if pet rats could talk and nick office supplies.

“You…you weren’t just lulling me into a false sense of security so you could scoop me up and Science me?”

“Science you?”

“Y-you know,” she stammered. She hadn’t stopped rubbing his palm. “P-put me in a jar and poke me with a thermometer or something like that.”

“No. I am not going to science you. Or eat you. Or squash you. Or oany of that.”

“Promise?”

“Aye. Promise.” 

“Not…not even if I say something that makes you mad?”

“Wee yin,” he spoke as soft and gentle as he could. “There’s nu’hin ye could say to me that would make me want tae hurt ye.”

“Soup is a thin watery broth o-or a cream base with chopped meat of vegetables or noodles or fish or whatever suspended in it, and the proportions are lots of liquid to a little bit of solid stuff. Stew is always beef, and it’s cooked for a long time with vegetables, but never noodles or fish, and the liquid is more meat sauce than anything else, and it pretty much only barely covers the solid bits. So while I concede that they are in the same category of foods, they are absolutely different.”

James tilted his head and fixed her with a stony glare. “I am going to boil you in a soup.”

“Really?” The high, anxious tone of her voice took all the fun out of the joke.

“No, no of course not! Whit kind ae monster do ye take me for?” Her shoulders relaxed immediately. “Ah am hungry tho. If I made a pot ae mac ‘n cheese, wid ye have some?”

Her eyes just about rolled back into her head. “I love mac and cheese. But by the time I get to it, the scraps are stone cold, and cold mac and cheese is basically worse than no mac and cheese at all.”

“And its no soup, right?”

“No.” Her laugh was like a little bell ringing with a tiny goose honk in the middle. “It’s not soup.”

#g/t fluff #giant/tiny #g/t fiction #g/t writing #asweetpeawriting #asweetpea #g/t