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jeewrites · 6 months ago

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Something Sweet 🍰

my silly little one shot with gratuitous haikus for @jolapeno's dearuary challenge

Rating: General, but my blog is 21+ MDNI Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Prompt: Character A keeps finding X and tracks them back to B, who might be leaving them intentionally — or not.

Word Count: 2.2k CW/Tags: Mostly Marcus POV, very silly haikus, reader's grandmother's name is Mrs. Lee, ugh Theresa, Marcus is heartbroken, descriptions of food

Summary: Marcus Pike moves into the apartment across from your grandmother.

Why did no one warn him about how freaking humid it was in D.C. in the summertime? If he took two seconds to think about it, of course it would be, considering how often his new home was referred to as a swamp.

But no, all he thought about was Theresa’s plane arriving without her, leaving him standing at baggage claim bereft with balloons, a bouquet, and a welcome sign. The pit of his stomach twisted as the last passengers from her flight walked past him standing there, alone. There would be no fresh start with Theresa, no slow mornings in a charming row home just a few metro stops from work. No, there was just an invisible hand squeezing his heart so hard he could hardly make it home — well, back to the empty row house. It was supposed to be their home, but he would never call it home. Somehow the flowers and welcome sign were still crushed in his hands as he walked up the front steps. Where the balloons went, he didn't even know.

Marcus didn’t even bother to unpack after Theresa notified him that she would be staying in Texas with Jane. He negotiated out of his lease for a generous fee in a numb haze and moved into a small apartment for one. At least this apartment was in a bustling neighborhood, surrounded by delectable eats and a coffee shop with the best-baked goods he’s had in recent memory. At least he had carbs.

He threw himself into his new role at the FBI, burying his heartbreak with work, work travel, and more work. The only neighbor he’d managed to meet was his sweet across-the-hall neighbor, Mrs. Lee, a spry septuagenarian with a sense of humor who reminded him fondly of his own grandmother.

“You’ve been working yourself too hard,” she’d tsk when he came home after pulling an all-nighter, just as she was going out for her morning walk. “Have you eaten yet?”

So it didn’t surprise him the first time a non-descript brown bag of baked goods appeared on his doorstep — a generous slice of pie, still warm from the oven. Stuck on top of the package was a colorful post-it note with loopy cursive:

Funny and a poet, he thought as he tossed his takeout on the kitchen counter and dug into the cobbler. Dessert before dinner, just because he could. His groan reverberated through his empty apartment at the first bite of pie, the buttery flakiness of the crust with the perfect chew unveiled the complementary summer sweet peach and slightly floral, tangy blueberries. Just like his grandmother used to make, he thought.

A few weeks passed before another brown bag appeared at his doorstep.

Followed by a batch of cinnamon rolls at the end of a particularly grueling week at the office. As much as Marcus was working, even this week had him considering that perhaps he was working a little bit too hard. At least the haiku in the bag made him guffaw.

Despite his attempts at burying his heartbreak in work, he was trying to settle into his new neighborhood and find some semblance of routine, even if it reminded him of how alone he was at every turn. A particularly tasty Thai restaurant down the street earned his business at least once, okay, twice a week, usually as take-out when he wanted to get extra steps in that day. He’d only eaten at the restaurant once, but was reminded too much of Theresa with all the couples on dates surrounding him at every table.

And he had found what he considered his coffee shop, just around the corner from his apartment. They brewed coffee properly and had an outstanding selection of breakfast sandwiches and bakery items. They never charged him extra no matter how many pumps of hazelnut syrup he asked for. It helped that the employees there were warm and friendly, like folks back home, compared to how… brisk people could be in the nation’s capital. In DC it seemed like everyone just wanted to know what he did for work and measured his worth by his GS level and security clearance. Plus, the barista knew his coffee order by heart now and would start making it as soon as he walked in the door. Yeah, the coffee shop definitely turned into a daily habit.

If he was honest with himself, it didn’t hurt that the barista was super cute, with a smile that lit up the whole shop when she chose to bequeath it to a lucky customer. The first time she handed him his coffee and smiled that beaming smile of hers, he felt something in his battered heart, a flicker of warmth in his chest that spread to the tips of his fingers and toes. He thought he managed to smile back and mumble a thank you as heat crept up his collar. He still didn’t know her name, and couldn’t summon the courage to ask. He knew if he asked, he’d fall, and he only ever knew how to fall hard. His heart couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t risk it right now. Or maybe ever. He knew he was being dramatic, but it’d been months and he was just starting to feel like his heart had stopped bleeding enough to possibly heal.

Of course, he threw out his back the next day chasing a suspect on a stakeout gone wrong.

After four days lying on his couch staring at the empty walls, Marcus seriously considered finally hanging some photos or art or maybe the flat screen TV still in its box. A shuffling noise outside his front door had him groaning to stand as he hobbled over to see what the commotion was about, only to find a brown bag hung on his front door handle. Not a soul in sight as his eyes swept the hallway in both directions. As he gingerly made his way to the kitchen counter, his mouth watered at the smell of browned butter wafting up from the bag.

Laughing made his back twinge, but he had to give it to Mrs. Lee, her sense of humor was spot on. When his back recovered enough for him to go into the office, Marcus nearly missed a bag of cookies hung on the handle as he rushed out.

Sure enough, the assortment of cookies in the bag featured both decadently chewy chocolate chip cookies, as well as, shatteringly crisp cookies he found delectable paired with his coffee. He immediately regretted bringing the cookies to the office as his co-workers descended on them like scavengers, leaving nary a crumb behind. Still, the thought occurred to him as he trudged home to his apartment that evening, it was probably for the best that he didn’t eat a dozen cookies all by himself.

Marcus was so deep in thought over the merits of chewy versus crispy cookies, that he didn’t realize Mrs. Lee was standing at her door waving at him.

“Long day, hon?”

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, wondering how to bring up the sweet treats without seeming ungrateful. “Yes ma’am, it’s been a day.”

“Well, I hope you get yourself something tasty to eat for dinner young man.”

“Thank you Mrs. Lee, I will. Uh — I really appreciate all the baked goods by the way, but you don’t have to keep doing that.” Lies, he’d take any sweets that crossed his path.

She tilted her head to the side, “Oh sweetheart, I’m not the one leaving treats at your door.”

“Wait, what?” He mirrored her head movement in confusion.

“Honey, I can’t bake boxed brownies to save my life.”

“But do you know who is?” he felt the furrow in his brow deepen as his mind whirred. Who could possibly be the culprit? His enormous assumption that Mrs. Lee was the bearer of baked goods meant he’d been eating food left by god knows who for all these months.

Mrs. Lee just gave him a smile and shrug before throwing a little wink over her shoulders as she went into her unit, leaving Marcus standing outside his door in stunned surprise. After a moment standing in the hallway alone, Marcus turned to enter his unit in confusion, running through all the possibilities of who could be the culprit. After all, he was still relatively new in town. Who would do such a kind thing?

However, weeks passed and since his conversation with Mrs. Lee, the treats stopped appearing at his door, making him wonder if he spooked her into stopping. Or did she tip off who was leaving the treats?

Another grueling week under his belt was made more difficult by having to collaborate with the New York office. He almost had to make the trip up to the Big Apple, but mercifully the agents up there managed the case without him. For once he was relieved at getting to stay in town, a proper weekend to perhaps unpack a few more boxes at his place.

And he had managed a short conversation with the barista that morning, basking in the sunshine of her smile. To his surprise, a familiar brown bag sat at his doorway when he got off the elevator.

Perhaps he hadn’t scared off Mrs. Lee after all, he thought as he dug into the fluffiest cheesecake he’d ever had in his life.

It’d been a day. He couldn’t keep pulling these 14-hour days. It’s unsustainable, he thought as the elevator dinged on his floor. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he trudged out of the elevator. At least he had dinner on the way from his favorite Thai spot a few blocks down. It’s only then he spotted the back of a figure at his doorstep with a brown bag in hand — the same brown bag all those sweet treats arrived in — stealing his treats.

Before he knew it, all of his FBI training on approaching a suspect flew out the window as he stormed toward them shouting, “HEY! YOU THERE!” Never get between a Pike and their dessert.

The loud voice of an angry man caught you off guard as you spun around, clutching the bag of muffins in your hand. Marcus.

He paused in immediate recognition and stopped a few steps away from you. In a softer voice, he asked, “It’s… you?”

You dropped your gaze and bit your lower lip nervously, clutching the bag to your chest as your heart pounding from being shouted at. You managed to whisper, “You caught me,” before raising your eyes to meet his warm, brown ones.

The same brown eyes that drew you in the first time you ever laid eyes on him months ago. You had just left your grandmother’s apartment, noticing the unit across the hall from her had a new tenant moving in. A handsome man with the most expressive brown eyes was hefting a moving box in his arms towards the propped-open door. You knew grief when you saw it. His shoulders slumped with his eyes cast down, not even open to a friendly hello in the hallway. Your heart went out to this grieving man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. So you decided then and there to leave him some of your coveted treats the next time you baked for your grandmother. It was convenient enough since you worked at the coffee shop just down the street.

“How do you know where I live?” he asked, bringing your attention back to the present.

“I saw you move in,” you mumbled eyes darting away from his intense stare. “When I was leaving my grandmother’s. She’s — she’s your neighbor.” You gestured towards her door.

“...but why?”

“You looked like you needed something sweet,” you explain. “A pick me up.”

“When I moved in…" He huffed at that and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I really needed a pick me up then.”

Somehow you’ve moved closer together during the brief exchange. You’re getting the full effect of those expressive eyes that drew you in in the first place, now without the barrier of an espresso machine and counter.

Before he could elaborate, a food delivery driver walked up and interrupted your conversation with a grunt, “Uh, I have a delivery for, uh, Marcus Pike? You Marcus Pike?”

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” he asked after taking the bag from the driver with a sheepish expression. “I always order too much food.”

“Depends,” you smirked as the smell of curry wafted from the bag. “If that’s from the Thai spot down the street.”

“It is,” he confirmed, returning your smirk with a dimpled grin.

“Then, yes. And I brought dessert.”

#jolapenosdearuary #dearuary #fic challenge #marcus pike x reader #haiku #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction

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