toulouse .
Toulouse wasn’t ashamed to say that he was a momma’s boy. What choice did he really have, when there wasn’t exactly a second parent in the household? Of course, they’d always had their grandmother, but she wasn’t exactly a perfect parent. He knew that she tried her best, and had only wanted the best for her family, but there were some things that they had never exactly agreed upon. His mother, however, had always defended him. Protected him, as well as his other siblings. It was a crucial reason that Toulouse was so protective over her. He wanted the best for her, as she had given the best for them.
Even though he was in college now, he still visited back home very frequently, especially on the weekends. Today, as he didn’t have any classes, he decided to go back home for the day. He still had a gift to give to her, of course, that he’d gotten during the festival. Since she had been gone, he hadn’t gotten a chance before now. When he walked inside, he noticed that his mother was in the kitchen, already cooking. “Have you come back with psychic powers?” he chuckled, sitting down at the table, trying to disguise the bag that he held in his hands. “I thought this time I was going to surprise you.” His mother was a good cook, he thought, but then again, he didn’t think it was fair to compare her cooking to Thomas’s. He was softening up to hearing about the man, these days, but it hadn’t always been that way, of course.
...
IT FELT LIKE OLD TIMES, WITH TOULOUSE IN THE KITCHEN. She could almost hear Marie and Berlioz on the stairs, laughing as they tumbled down, fighting to be the first in the kitchen. First in line for breakfast. This time of day had always been their favorite, it seemed, although any time that involved the kitchen was discriminated against in their household. Her love of food, mixed with her mother’s love of culture, somehow combined well here. Duchess ran a hand through her hair at the thought of her mother, though, trying to push down the emotions that came with it. Instead, she smiled at her son, and pointed the spatula at the chair. “Sit, and I won’t use my psychic powers on you,” she teased with a wink.
Quickly, she finished up the pancakes and slid some onto a plate, some for herself, but a stack a mile high for Louie. She slid his across to him, licking her fingers of the chocolate sauce that she’d poured on hers, and sat down in front of him. “I stopped in the city on the way home,” she said, smiling. “Got a few of your favorites from Magnolia.” The bakery was not the best in the world, per say, but it held a special place in her heart. She liked their icing, too, and they always smothered it on their cupcakes. It was then that she noticed his bag, peaking out from under his chair. Still, she didn’t say anything, and stuck a bite of pancake in her mouth. “You can take them with you, of course. Unless you want pancakes and cupcakes for breakfast.” She grinned. “Did you have a nice time at the festival?”
