Work Text:
Phil stares at the apple. Then, he glances at the knife.
Then, he goes back to staring at the apple.
It’s a really nice apple, actually. Good round shape, pretty deep red with a soft freckling of yellow and orange.
And it was a gift from Techno.
Okay. Well. Gift isn’t the right word. She’d poked her head into the cabin, seen Phil sitting by the fire reading, and thrown an apple at him without another word. Fucked off right back into the woods. Leaving Phil to decide what to do with the apple.
The obvious answer to him was of course to cut it and eat it with peanut butter, but Techno had gotten crunchy peanut butter this month and, well, you can't right eat an otherwise perfect apple with crunchy peanut butter. That would be… bla… blaz…blasé? No. blasffffffff…… it starts with that noise.
Whatever.
Phil’s eyes flick back towards the knife. What else can you dip apples in? They had preserves… but that’s just dipping fruit in more fruit. Which would be weird.
Phil leans back against the armchair behind him, his wings splaying out.
Maybe he’ll just wait for Techno to get back, and she can tell him the proper way to eat the apple.
But. Well, Phil can imagine what Techno would say. “ You just eat it? ” And then he imagines Techno taking the apple and tossing it in her mouth and eating it core and all.
He could eat it like a normal apple. But it was a gift from Techno! And he couldn’t just eat this perfect apple that was a gift from Techno like he’d eat any other apple! Now that, that! That would be blasé. This apple is very special, so it has to get special treatment.
Philza pulls the crunchy peanut butter from the cabinets, spoons out a scoop, and then very carefully begins to remove every crunchy bit with his fingers.
Techno wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting when he walked back inside the cabin. Like… okay. Maybe, and just maybe, she hadn’t been clear with what she wanted from the basket of apples she’d left on the kitchen table, and the one apple she’d thrown at Phil.
But, in her defense. Phil really, really, really, loved baking apple pies. And she wouldn’t be mad if Phil didn’t bake one! There was always later, and the apples were good on their own.
And, --again, in her defense-- walking into your own home to find your partner with peanut butter smudged on his face and clothes, and two bowls of peanut butter, one of which is just crunchy bits… well, no one could expect that!
“Why?” Techno asks, staring at Phil who is now happily eating apple slices dipped in un-crunchied-crunchy peanut butter.
“It was the perfect apple! I had to eat it with peanut butter,” He says, like the peanut butter sorting makes any more sense.
Techno stares at him from across the table.
“Why did you remove the crunchy bits then?”
“You can't eat peanut butter and apples with crunchy peanut butter.”
Techno just does not know what to say. He grabs the knife, and reaches for the basket of apples at the other end of the table to begin peeling one. It’s apparently Phil’s turn to stare.
“What?” Techno asks, looking over her glasses. Phil swallows their apple slice.
“When did those get there?” They ask.
“I put them there when I gave you that apple. I thought you’d want to make apple pie.”
Phil slides his bowl of peanut butter and apple slices down the table a little, and presses his face onto the cool wooden surface.
“What wood is this? It’s nice.” He says sadly, with his cheek mushed against the table.
“It’s spruce, dear. Like all the rest of our furniture.” Techno pauses, “We live in a spruce forest.”