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“I want to try this one!" Phoebe points to the strawberry ice cream tub, her breath fogging the glass. "Looks so yummy!"
Jamie's eyes dance around the colourful tubs of ice cream. “All of them. I want one scoop of–” Jamie starts, his greasy fingers dragging along the glass and licking his lips.
“Absolutely not,” Roy growls, but the smile on his face tells people he's in high spirits. “One scoop for now. Will ruin your appetite for dinner.” Roy only agreed when the day was hot and they needed to cool down from their walk; he also couldn't say no to their puppy eyes that begged him, tugging at his heartstrings.
Jamie pouts, eyes looking over the rows of delicious, sugary, icy goodness. There were too many options for the man who took hours to pick his pizza toppings. How could Jamie even start when there were blue raspberry with chocolate chunks, vanilla with caramel swirls, and chocolate with even more chocolate—he wanted it all!
“I want strawberry!” Phoebe already knows what she wants, her finger tapping on the glass. “I want two scoops!”
“One scoop,” Roy reminds her, and pats his niece on the shoulder. While he would allow Phoebe to get two scoops, Jamie would get a little jealous. They were on a strict diet until the season was over, and Roy had to keep an extra eye on his husband's sweet tooth.
“If you ace your test, then it's three. If your uncle follows my play, he'll get three as well.”
“Three?” Jamie could never imagine how tall that would look on a cone. Three beautifully scooped round balls of any flavour stacked on one another was a dream he could achieve if he worked hard.
“Babes, what's stoppin’ meh from gettin’ three with meh own card?”
“Because you respect my diet plan." Roy gives him that sly look, and Jamie puckers his lips. “Don't look so upset. Make sure they'll give you a big scoop of whatever you want.”
Jamie looks back at the rows and shakes his head.
“Dunno what to pick. When I was young, I picked chocolate, but now I like vanilla. But I like eatin’ things blue." Jamie was making this more difficult than it already was. Roy hums, looking at the rows of colourful ice cream flavours they have. Roy personally liked vanilla, plain and sweet, and it smelled like his husband. “I'm biased. Vanilla. Could make any topping taste good.”
“No, strawberry is the best, Uncle Jay!" Phoebe pipes up. “That's the best flavour for everything. Candy, milk, fruit, everything!”
“I don’ really like strawberry unless it's cheesecake,” Jamie admits, and Phoebe gives a dramatic gasp at Jamie, who chuckles. It was Jamie's fault for always being over the top with his expressions, and now Phoebe had copied him to be cheeky.
“Jamie, just ask to sample the ones you really want." Roy gives a suggestion, and Jamie jumps at the idea.
“That's all of them!”
“Then sample all of them.”
“Really? All of them?” Jamie asks to be sure, and when Roy nods, Jamie's eyes grow big and sparkle and dazzle like a child getting the gifts they wanted. But the shyness comes after, and those sparkling eyes drop down to avoid a gaze that looks back lovingly. Jamie's easy to overwhelm, and at this moment, he was that.
Pick a single flavour, pick a flavour to sample first, kiss Roy, tell Phoebe she needs to tie her shoe, call mum, hmmmmm. Jamie's mind is telling him to do too many things at once, and it's making it hard for him to concentrate. He takes a moment to compose his thoughts in order.
“Phoebe, yer shoes untied,” Jamie points out, and Phoebe kneels to tie them, and a checkmark goes off in Jamie's head. "Oi, Roy. Remind meh to call mums. She's taking Phoebe for the weekend."
"Hm, noted," Roy says, smiling, and another checkmark goes off in Jamie's head. Now, the next step was figuring out which flavour to try first. Jamie narrows his eyes, reading each placement card carefully and letting the words sink in.
“Come now, love. Going to hold up the workers now." Roy points to the first tub of ice cream that was chocolate mint. “Sample, please.”
The worker grabs a small spoon and scoops a bit of the green ice cream with a small chunk of chocolate. They give it to Roy, and Roy holds it up for Jamie.
“Go from the first tub to the last. Don’t think too hard about it, love.” Roy brings the spoon towards Jamie's mouth, and Jamie takes the treat, making a face when he sucks on it a bit.
“It tastes like toothpaste. No thanks yeh to that one,” Jamie says, with his tongue smacking on the roof of his mouth. “Can I sample the next one?” The next flavour was orange popsicle. “Please?” Jamie adds when Roy nudges him with a stern look to be polite.
“Can I sample that too, please?” Phoebe wants to join the little sample party. Maybe she would like something other than strawberry for once. “Orange popsicle looks tasty.”
“Of course,” the worker smiled, scooping the tiny spoon of the brightly orange ice cream and giving it to the two eager hands.
”I like this one.” Jamie sucks the wooden spoon till he tastes the wood. Phoebe tilts her head back and forth with her thumbs sideways. She wasn’t feeling it.
“S’good... but strawberry is better,” Phoebe says it as a fact rather than an opinion.
Jamie scoffs; he knows what’s good and bad, and strawberry ice cream was at the bottom.
”Nuh uh! This is better than strawberries. If yeh were right about strawberries, why don’ I like it?”
Phoebe giggles. “Because you have terrible taste.”
Jamie crushes the wooden spoon with a tight grip, and it snaps. He slowly turns to Roy with a wobble of his lips and brows coming down ever so slightly, with a twitch at the right corner. His eyes pool quickly with his tears, and before Roy can respond to the diva, arms are wrapping around him in a tight hold.
”Phoebe, apologize to your uncle. Now, please.” Roy sighs, patting his husband's back as he hiccups dramatically onto his chest. If one were to poke fun of Jamie Tartt’s taste in anything, they would be met with tears or claw marks... or both.
“Jamie, calm yourself. You have impeccable taste, love.”
“She’s grounded till she's 70, Roy!” Jamie points at the little gremlin who’s giggling mad. “Laughing at yer uncle? Laugh at this! No more Neapolitan ice creams. We are strictly whatever Jamie wants for ice cream at Tesco, household, missy!” Jamie hmph’s, parting away from Roy.
Phoebe gasps at the threat. “Uncle Roy, he can’t do that!”
“That he can, Phoebe.” Roy chuckles, watching Phoebe and Jamie stick their tongues at one another. “Enough, you two. There are a dozen flavours to taste. Hurry on.”
“I want to try this one!” Phoebe points to one that is green with nuts.
“Ooo, I want to try blue raspberry next!” Jamie points to the blue tub of ice cream. The lady hands him a tiny spoonful, and when he tastes it, it’s too sweet and artificial for his refined taste buds, thanks to Roy’s strict diet plan. Sticking his tongue out to Roy, he asks, “Ish meh tongues blues?”
“Very. Let me have a taste,” Roy agrees, leaning over, and the two share a small French kiss, and a checkmark goes off in Jamie's head. “It tastes a bit too sweet, like you." Jamie blushes, and they go for another kiss. Phoebe makes a silly face at them, as any child would when they watch their parental figures be all kissy-kissy.
“Ewww,” Phoebe teases her two uncles, licking her sample to cringe at the taste. “Ew! This one tastes like medicine.”
“And tastes like poison.” Jamie hated pistachio ice cream for the weird almondy aftertaste. “Don’ even need a sample to know I still hate it.”
“I don’t mind it if it’s a good brand.” Roy looks over the tubs and points to the cookie and cream tub. “I would like to try that one, please.”
Jamie puts up a finger, wanting one as well. “Roy, yer having something that isn’t vanilla?” Jamie whistles, impressed. “Who are yeh and what have yeh done with meh husband?”
“Feeling adventurous today.” All the talk about ice cream made Roy want to try something different. Cookies and cream was mainly vanilla with the cookie mixed in, and that itself sounded like the best combination, though Roy preferred plain vanilla and mixing his own biscuits in.
The two take it, and Phoebe pipes up that she wants one as well. They wait for her to get her sample, and all three try it at the same time.
Jamie hums. “Wow, I think this is meh favourite!”
Phoebe shakes her head. “Strawberry is better."
“Shut up, Phoebe,” both the uncles say, and the three burst into laughter and continue their little ice cream samples.
One by one, they tried various flavours; pralines and cream, chocolate fudge, cookie dough, salted caramel, cherry (Jamie hated it, spitting it out and getting a scolding from Roy), banana, mango, peanut butter chocolate (Jamie loved it, Phoebe hated it, Roy was indifferent; it's no vanilla), and finally, matcha.
“Wow, this one's… Not sure how to feel.” Jamie smacks his lips. It was good, the balance of sweet and bitterness the perfect balance. “Hm, I can't pick between cookies and cream or…” Jamie's eyes squint, reading the labels carefully. “Or peanut butter chocolates!”
Phoebe points to what she has wanted since the beginning of time.
“Strawberry. Nothing beats it.”
“I'll stick with vanilla.” Roy's taste buds were throwing a party, and his stomach was doing flips from the amount of sugar he consumed. “You, love?”
Jamie pouts, unable to pick.
“I don' know, Roy!” Jamie looks between the two flavours. He was close to ordering two scoops and suffering the wrath of Roy, but what example would he be for their little girl?
Roy sees his dilemma and has an idea that would fix this. “I'll get cookies and cream, and you get peanut butter chocolate. You can pick at mine.”
Jamie's eyes go wide, shining bright.
“Do that for meh?”
Roy nods. “Better than getting two scoops.”
“Hey, I want some!” Phoebe pipes up, tugging at their trousers. “They should make strawberry cookies and cream.”
Jamie scoffs at the idea. “Only if they want to fail in life.”
“I'll grow up and start a strawberry everything business and won't invite you to my big boat mansion,” Phoebe says with a flick of her hair. “Invite everyone but your stinky arse.”
“She said a bad word, Roy!”
“Snitch! Now you're double uninvited!”
“Don' wanna be on yer stupid big mansion boat, anyway! I have motion sickness, ha!”
"Good, or else I shove you over the railings,” Phoebe giggles, and Jamie's mouth hangs open, turning to Roy, who's ordering their ice cream, ignoring their little spat.
“Roy! She jus' admitted to wanting to murder meh! She's a mini yeh!”
“Good lass." Roy nods at Phoebe, and she nods back, scowling like her uncle. Jamie is trapped between two plotting murder machines, and escape isn’t an option; their wedding bands are the cuffs.
“Going to start sleeping in meh own office with the door locked,” Jamie mumbles.
“Lighten up. Now we have extra security at home,” Roy chuckles, and all three huddle over the glass when the lady starts scooping their order. The lady starts with Roy's cookies and cream, scooping a nice, large ball and plopping it in a cup. Next is Phoebe's, her scoop smaller and on a cone. Lastly, Jamie waits for his order, hoping for a bigger scoop than Roy’s. The lady rinses the spoon in the water and dips it into the peanut butter chocolate tub.
To Jamie's joy, the lady rolled it three times, and like building a snowman, the ball of peanut butter chocolate grew. When it was the size of his palm, the lady plopped it on a cone, its stiff sides spilling out with the frosted ice glimmering; it was the perfect scoop Jamie’s ever seen in his life. They take their ice creams and thank the workers, and leave. Jamie and Phoebe have a skip in their step, licking their ice creams aggressively, and Roy lags, eating his slowly with a spoon.
“You two are making a mess,” Roy sighed loudly, and the two looked over at him, their mouths sticky from their icy delights.
“Ice cream in a bowl is criminally wrong, Roy,” Jamie states as a fact, stopping to let Roy catch up. He opens his mouth with a loud AAAHHH when Roy’s beside him, and his eyes dart at the cup. Roy spoon-feeds him, making sure each scoop has a sizeable chunk to please the royal pain in his arse.
"Hmmm, the cup makes it taste different..." Jamie says after the third spoon. “Cones better!”
Phoebe comes up beside them, her mouth open as well. "Aaaaaaa!" Phoebe bounces in her spot as Roy brings down the spoon with a small chunk. She hums happily, but had to agree with her Uncle Jamie. "Tasty! But I agree with Uncle Jay. Cones make ice cream taste much better.”
“Mhm, yeh can say that again, Pebbles." Jamie holds his cone out to cheers, and Phoebe goes in, smacking hers into his. The force pushes Jamie’s ice cream off the cone, and it falls off, plopping on the floor. The three stared at the big scoop of peanut butter chocolate ice cream melting on the path, spreading quickly from the scorching sun. Its once voluminous body was now a puddle of goo for a dog to lick and throw up.
Jamie hiccups, his eyes watering in heavy pools, and he can’t feel his legs gravitating towards the ground, his hand gripping his chest. He felt lightheaded and faint, and Roy had to hold him up.
“Opps, innit…” Phoebe peeps. She didn't mean to do that!
“Meh peanut butter chocolate scooooooop!” Jamie cries out in anguish, his trembling hand pointing at Phoebe. “Yeh killer!”
“I'm sorry, Uncle Jay!” Phoebe apologized, holding up her ice cream to Jamie. “You can have a single lick of mine!” She offers. Jamie narrows his eyes at her, mouth going tight at the thought of tasting an overly sweet strawberry dessert.
Jamie leans down and, to both Phoebe's and Roy’s surprise, takes a single lick—then to their shock, Jamie's jaw widens, and he bites down on the soft ice cream, shivering violently at the cold biting his teeth. He swallows without letting the disgusting thing sit in his mouth for too long and mingle with his taste buds.
“My ice cream!” Phoebe gasps, her small scoop devoured in one swoop. “Uncle Roy!”
Roy chuckles, his hand warming the cup and making it an ice cream soup. He stirs at it, watching the two bicker about it—like chihuahuas barking with teeth snarled—and would intervene, but they were too entertaining.
“Yer lucky yer uncles here or else!”
“Else what? You'll cry like a baby?”
Jamie makes a choked noise. “Yer the baby, baby!”
Phoebe shakes her head slowly. “Prove it, Uncle Baby Jay.”
“Oi! I'll—jus’ you wait—yer lucky yer a child or else I'd destroy yer self-esteem with what I know!”
“At least I have self-esteem.” Phoebe gives him a playful look, and Jamie gasps with laughter.
“Christ, Phoebe. Didn't need to fucking murder meh like that." Jamie pats her head. “Yer seriously becoming yer uncle Royo. Where's me under all that?!”
Phoebe thinks for a few seconds about it and smiles up at Jamie. "My impeccable taste.”
“Hm, I must admit that yeh do have impeccable taste,” Jamie agrees, pinching Phoebe's cheek lightly, and both share a small hug. “But meh tastes are much better…” Jamie whispers, and Phoebe looks at Roy, who shakes his head as if to warn her; let him fucking have it, or else it's another tantrum.
Phoebe pouts and forces herself to hold back her quips.
“Glad you two shut up." Roy slurps his soupy ice cream loudly. “I'll be nice, and we can go get another scoop—”
Jamie and Phoebe don't let him finish and scurry towards the ice cream parlour, racing one another. Jamie's one of the fastest people Roy knows, and he’s watching Jamie purposefully lose to their niece, who's a turtle on land compared to the football player.
“Yay! I won!” Phoebe jumps up and down when she reaches the front door of the parlour first, and Jamie pretends he's devastated to be beaten by their little girl. Roy chuckles, following from behind—the slowest of the two—and all three go inside, bickering about which flavour is the best.
"And there goes my peace of mind," Roy mumbles, and the lady at the counter greets him again.
"Strawberry is better!" Phoebe says, running to the tub of her favourite ice cream.
"No! Peanut butter chocolate, cookies and cream, and—" Jamie points to each tub he knows is better than strawberry. "I can still taste it in meh mouth. Nasty!"
"Zip it, you two!" Roy claps his hands. "All ice cream is good ice cream. Especially with the people you share it with," Roy says, and the two gremlins look at one another.
"He's right." Jamie can’t disagree with that logic. “Yer strawberry did taste a little better on yer cone.”
"Uncle Roy, you're so wise. Like a mean hairy Yoda," Phoebe says, and Roy scowls at her. Just like Jamie, Roy was trapped with the two sassiest fucking people to walk this planet.
“Enough of the talking! Pick your ice cream again and get going. Have to start dinner." Roy gently shoves them towards the glass. Jamie knows what he wants with no need to overthink it, and Phoebe was quite obvious, already pointing to the strawberry tub. Roy’s all ice creamed out, but would pick at theirs.
The three huddle around the glass to watch their scoops be rolled into perfect, round balls. Their eyes follow the dip of the spoon and the roll of the lady's hand, and onto the cones they go. Roy prays for no mishaps, Jamie prays to finish his, and Phoebe prays she doesn’t accidentally kill Uncle Jay’s ice cream again. When they get their treat and pay, the three head out, no longer caring which one was better, as it tastes much sweeter now than it did before.