#nbd the girl totally hasn't been clinging to their tradition for years alone or anything 😂😌😔😭

[gloynporslen]

Day Twenty-Two: Chocolate

Pairing: 🤷‍♀️ technically past!R&R I guess?

Note: This is entirely Ariana and Rebecca, Rebecca-centric maybe I think?? It focuses on their relationship, not on a UB romance.

I think this is okay? Sort of? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this primarily because I've never written Rebecca before and I'm sure I've gone and mischaracterised her massively but hey, at least I tried 😌

Tagging: all these wonderful darlings (please feel free to change your minds about being tagged at any time 💕) @lilyoffandoms @smalltowndetective @sosolenoo @pearlsandsteel

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“And the final touch?” Rebecca prompts, placing the cap back on the whipped cream.

“The choclate sprinkles,” the young child beside her answered confidently, nodding wisely at her own declaration.

“Ni- Ariana, they’re not sprinkles.” Rebecca corrects. The happy sparkle at using her new name is missing for once as the four-year-old rolls her eyes at her mother, much to Rebecca’s amusement.

“No, I know, mum. It’s just choclate powder.” She drawled dramatically, picking up the small brown pot. “But you sprinkle it, so that means they’re sprinkles of choclate.”

A smug smile took its place on her little face, very proud of her own logic, as she gently dusted the top of her whipped-cream laden mug with the powdered chocolate.

“Choclate sprinkles,” she reasserted with certainty. Rebecca watched as she examined her mug carefully from all angles, making sure the ‘sprinkles’ were to her utmost satisfaction. Rebecca had to admit, she indeed makes a remarkably compelling argument.

“Well, now how can I argue with that logic? You’re right, the final touch is the sprinkles of chocolate.”

Rebecca smiled softly at the proud grin that brightened her child’s face with her acknowledgement. The deep brown eyes Ariana possesses are so much like her own, yet in that moment, with that cheerful sparkle, all she can see is-

“Becca.”

No. She refused to follow that train of thought, refused to allow any grief to settle in. The ache in her chest that has only grown since… That ebbing and flowing ache, demanding to be noticed, is something she refuses to allow to take over. Not now. Not when her child, their daughter, is looking up at her, smiling with such pure affection, as she offers her the small pot to add her own dusting of chocolate powder atop her own drink. This is theirs. She won’t allow herself to ruin their special hot chocolate tradition. Any heartbreak will have to wait for tomorrow, because she’s not going to let anything take this away from them.

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26 years later and Rebecca’s sat, cooly reading a report, at the Warehouse’s kitchen table. Her attention fully captured by the words until the sound of something being placed in front of her breaks her concentration. She looks up with thinly-veiled confusion but Aria refuses to meet her eyes, a mug matching the one she’d just put down held within her own hands.

“It’s our- your special recipe.” She offers with a shrug, quite obviously trying to play off her actions as unimportant, insignificant even, though her awkward fidgeting gives away otherwise. “It took a while for me to get it just right on my own, what with… you know… us not really doing Christmas together for the past few years but uh…” Aria finally meets her eyes, the hesitant but unguarded hope in the deep brown causes Rebecca’s throat to tighten. “Things are different now, right?”

Rebecca swallows down the lump in her throat, both of them patently ignoring the glossiness both their eyes now possess. She nod with a watery smile, closing and putting down the file as Aria fumbles with her waistcoat.

“The cream’s already started to melt a little but… the final touch?” she offers, holding out the very same small, brown pot they used to use. Rebecca laughs softly at the sight, carefully taking the pot as she does.

“The chocolate sprinkles,” she warmly announces, lightly dusting the top of the cream with a thin layer of powder.

Aria groans as she takes a seat, hiding her head and smile in her hand.

“Oh god, because the powder is just sprinkles of chocolate.” They both laugh at her childhood logic. “You know, I can’t believe you let me get away with that.”

“Well, you technically weren’t wrong.” Rebecca watches with a small chuckle, the nostalgia warming her rather than hurting her as Aria mirrors her dusting before examining her mug carefully from all angles, ensuring the ‘sprinkles’ are to her utmost satisfaction. “It is a sprinkling of chocolate.”

Aria teasingly scoffs and rolls her eyes, bringing them both another moment of laughter as they smile and toast their hot chocolates.

“Feliz natal, mamãe.”

“Feliz natal, minha filha.”

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Yes, Aria kept a tiny pot of chocolate powder in her waistcoat pocket the entire day. No, she will not take criticism at this time. Nor will she reveal where she made the hot chocolate if Rebecca was in the kitchen the whole time. It was her warehouse room, she has moved both a mini fridge and a portable hot plate into there.

Thank you very much if you've made it this far! I hope it wasn't too much of a chore! Thank you, truly, for your time 💕

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