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Eric learned to make icebox pies in Moomaw's kitchen back before he was ever trusted on the ice itself. They were easy things. So easy, in fact, that he had a bad tendency to forget all about them. That is, until Betsy died.
Betsy had been replaced, sure, but for that short period of time when he was without access to an oven? Icebox pies were cranked out left and right. He'd started easy with a chocolate one in a graham cracker crust, but it only took a little bit of time before he'd moved on to making rum coconut key lime icebox pie. Google let him know he could toast his coconut in the microwave. Shitty gave him the rum and told him the single tablespoon's worth called for in the recipe was useless. (It should be noted that he still ate three pieces.)
The revelation of it all, though, was Jack. He was happy enough with baked pies, sure, particularly the pear raspberry torte Eric had thrown together in a fit of finals stress, but when Eric got to watch him dig in to the icebox pies with their cold creamy fillings and crumb crusts, his expression would always soften. It was the same look he got after a game where they won without having to try too hard.
Being a Georgia boy, he'd grown up with peaches everywhere (well, and onions even though they weren't that close to Vidalia). Going to Samwell, they weren't nearly as plentiful, but there were other fresh fruits in easy enough supply that it became something else he almost forgot all about.
Then his mother sent him a care package. In addition to the fresh nutmeg she'd sourced at a gourmet store for him plus the Microplane grater he'd thought he could do without but obviously couldn't, there were fresh peaches galore. As tempting as it was to give them to the guys (and Lardo who still counted), he was missing Jack and ended up making a gingersnap crust before he could really think of it further. With that done, he moved on to the peaches, carefully peeling and slicing them before setting them to the side, wishing that Chowder was there to do it for him (he was pretty enthusiastic about, well, everything). From there, it was all condensed milk, softened cream cheese, freshly-grated nutmeg, and whatever else felt right (baking was a blur sometimes even if it didn't actually involve the process of baking).
With the pie ready to go in the freezer, Eric found himself snapping a picture of it with his phone and sending it off to Jack with the caption: Georgia peach icebox pie! It'll be ready in a few hours. Too bad you're not here to eat it.
The pie went in the freezer and Eric turned back to the dishes, cleaning what he'd dirtied and then some because it was generally considered to be more his kitchen than anyone else's. (It was another time he briefly missed Chowder who could easily be turned to chores with a smile and the promise of dessert.) As he set the last spoon on the dish drainer, his phone beeped with a message. Drying off his hands quickly on the hem of his shirt, Eric pulled out his phone to check it and found himself leaning against the counter with a grin.
That looks almost as good as you did the last time I saw you. I was planning a surprise visit tomorrow, but now I know I need to be there tonight before everyone else eats it. Can you save it until then?
It took a few moments to find the bags of frozen vegetables in the freezer and stack them in such a way to hide the pie, but it was worth it to know that he'd get to see his boyfriend that night and share that with him. With the pie hidden, Eric looked back at his phone and grinned again. It's hidden behind the broccoli. If you're good, I'll make some cookies that you can take back with you and share with your team.
Only a few seconds later, his phone showed that Jack was replying, though the three dots seemed to cycle forever before the response finally popped up. Good? I'll be good in bed at least.
It made Eric blush a little as they weren't terribly experienced in the bedroom department yet, but there was always time for that. Just in case, he'd implement the soundproofing procedures he'd had to learn after the last time Beyoncé dropped a single and almost everyone in the house complained. He grabbed one of the peaches he hadn't used in the pie and took it upstairs as a snack, realizing that the shape actually bore more than a bit of resemblance to Jack's butt, and felt the lingering blush on his face flare once more as he sank his teeth in and felt a trickle of the juice run down his chin.
Jack was visiting that night. They'd have to play it just the right way so that Jack could spend the night in his bed, but Eric was certain they'd manage. And if they did end up doing... things... well, Beyoncé did have a few songs with sounds that it would all fit right in with.