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Wednesdays near closing is one of Amy’s favorite days at the brew pub for two reasons. One, it’s not very busy after the dinner rush so she’s able to get some work done on her thesis and two, Eliot, when he’s in town, works on the menu. Eliot working on the menu is usually no nonsense, complementary to the season’s available local vegetables, and reasonable unless Parker and Hardison get involved.
Which, Parker and Hardison love getting involved. Amy’s pretty sure they’re trolling Eliot most of the time, actually, and Eliot, for all his grumbling, doesn’t seem to mind. The man likes a challenge and hesitates to tell his partners no.
Case in point, apples from one of the farms Eliot locally sources from, was delivered this morning. Three types to be exact, which, apparently, completely derailed all actual work being done to the menu if the the discussion the three of them are having is any indication.
“But why are you roasting apples with kale and sweet potatoes when you could be making us pie, man,” Hardison complains. “Seriously, it’s fall. I know you don’t hate joy. Right, babe?” Alec bumped Parker with his shoulder who nodded as she snagged another slice of apple from Eliot’s pile. “He loves joy.”
“Damnit Hardison, I’m not going to make a pie just because you want a pie,” Eliot grumbles seasoning what Amy is pretty sure is a pork tenderloin. He’s probably trying a new rub. She smells cinnamon and sage. Looks like it’s going to be tasty.
“Too bad, because I texted Kara and said you’d be making apple pie,” Parker says, hopping up onto the counter, after stealing another apple slice. “You’d hate to disappoint her wouldn’t you?”
“Damnit Parker,” Eliot sighs, shaking his head. “When’s she gonna be here.”
“Any minute probably,” Parker grins. “National City isn’t that far.”
Amy is pretty sure, like 99% certain that Kara is actually Supergirl, but she’s not positive. Like sure, the girl is blonde and seems to be sunshine incarnate and shows up slightly windswept. But usually, she shows up in office casual wear or on one memorable occasion pajamas and has yet to appear in costume. Besides, who’s gonna fly up to Portland for pie. Granted, it’s Eliot’s pie, but still. Amy’s pretty sure no one is going to get on a plane just to fly in for pie. Probably.
Besides, Bucky Barnes shows up and she knows that he’s actually a superhero, tragic past be damned.
As if summoned by the mere thought, Bucky strolls in, giving Amy a nod with Sam Wilson in tow. Sam gives her a smile and wave. She waves in reply and starts to get up.
“Hey Amy, don’t get up, I can get my own beer, thanks,” he says, rounding the counter and pulling down a glass. “You want something on tap Sam?”
“I’d recommend the stout,” Amy says. “His new Belgium is a little hoppy.”
“What Amy said,” Sam said, sliding onto a stool a few down from her.
“Thanks for the warning,” Bucky smiles and it’s a little devastating. Look, she’s happily got a girlfriend, but he’s just so pretty it almost hurts. Most of the time he smiles like he’s got no idea the effect he has on people. He tops off her water and heads back around the bar to take a seat between her and beside Sam. “So do I want to know what the argument is about?”
“I’m surprised Hardison didn’t send you a text,” Amy says, looking over at the trio to find Eliot elbows deep in what looks to be pie crust. “I think Eliot basically got tricked into making pie.”
“Apples are in season, I hear,” Bucky observes, glimmer of a smile on his face.
“Spoken like a man who texted a request to Parker,” Sam says, taking a sip of his own beer.
Bucky just gave a shit-eating grin. “You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”
They all watch as Eliot gives the dough a quick couple of kneads, plops it in a bowel, covers it with cling wrap, and pops it in a fridge.
“Amy, tell Hardison the best apple to make a pie with is a tart apple like this Wickson crabapple,” Eliot says glaring at Hardison.
“He’s so wrong, Amy. So, so wrong. The sweeter the apple, the better the pie,” Hardison says and Eliot rolls his eyes.
“Using an in between apple would be a good compromise,” Parker suggests smoothly.
“But it ain’t a tart apple,” Eliot insists.
“You are just too sour to appreciate a sweet apple,” Hardison decides and gives Eliot’s arm a consoling pat.
Eliot growls under his breath and starts to peel some apples, probably the tart ones by Amy’s guess.
The door chimes and before Amy even has a chance to turn, Kara slides up to the counter, tucking a few stray blonde hairs behind her ear and adjusting her glasses. “Hi guys!” She gives an adorable little wave. “Eliot, you’re making pies, right? Apples are in season and it’s my favorite.”
Eliot’s does a myriad of expressions, most of them fond with a touch of exasperation and says, “Yeah. I’m making three since we’ve got that many types of apples right now.”
Kara beams at him. “That sounds great!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot dismisses with a wave of his hand, but looking pleased and a little bashful.
With a surprising woosh, Barry Allen seemingly appear out of nowhere, which would have been worrying if he totally wasn’t the Flash. The bell sounds almost after the fact. “Have I missed pie?”
“Stealthy,” Kara sing-songs.
“For shit’s sake, kid,” Bucky grumbles, putting a knife away that he’s pulled from somewhere causing Sam to snort into his beer.
“Oh hi guys! Sorry,” Barry says, sheepishly.
“Okay, who activated the Special Phone Tree?” Hardison asks, looking a little put-out, like he’s afraid he’s going to have to share.
“Pie is important,” Kara says loftily.
“She’s my favorite,” Parker says, reaching out her fist for a fist bump that Kara met her halfway on.
Amy smiles fondly as she hops up to get everyone another round and Barry some water. Wednesdays are still totally her favorite.