Rowan was asleep in the other room, dead to the world. The cats were up and actually being kind of peaceful. Her 90’s era metallic blue CD player that she’d gotten for two whole dollars at a garage sale was plugged in on the kitchen counter with AC/DC’s Back in Black album already in it, ready to go. She was totally going to do this.
She was gonna make some damn pancakes.
Making pancakes to Hell’s Bells, she instantly decided, was the best idea she had ever come up with. Usually she didn’t rock out while Rowan was home. She’d barely done it at her old place, as cruddy as it was. Silme was just really self-conscious of her voice and what meager dancing skills she had. Rowan kept trying to convince her she wasn’t actually that bad, but she was pretty sure she was always the most awkward dancer in the whole building whenever she tried.
But this morning, she felt like dancing. With no one around to judge her but their pets, she hardly had anyone to impress. Calmness and caution thrown to the wind and eggs thrown in with the dry ingredients, Silme fired up the hand mixer and, by the end of Shoot to Thrill, it was ready to go. She pulled out the griddle she had – it was well used but it worked all the same. It wasn’t like she couldn’t replace it with the newest gadget on the market. They had the money. She just didn’t see the need for it when this one worked fine.
She started lip-syncing with a cat on the counter – the one she’d named Hendrix – and he just sort of stared at her in subtle annoyance, wondering when she’d crack open the wet cat food for him and the other eight cats that shared their apartment. They also had a fluffy mutt that turned up at about track four which was right on time for Silme to make the song title of “Givin’ the Dog a Bone” mean something a little less sexual.
About midway through track four, Silme still lip syncing and bobbing her head along, the griddle was ready to use for pancakes. She did the first one a little too large accidentally but shrugged. Rowan would eat it.
Bopping along and flipping pancakes, Silme hadn’t a care in the world. She was happy. The music was good, the meds were working, she was sleeping pretty well lately without waking up in a cold sweat because of a nightmare, and she had an amazing boyfriend who put up with her habit of collecting strays. She really loved him. She’d had an unbearable crush for a while and then it became unbearable awkwardness and now it was just… perfect.
As she was singing along to the end of Shake A Leg and flipping pancakes without a care in the world, two hands caught her around the middle and spun her, sending a mostly cooked pancake to the floor and making Silme shriek in surprise. Fenrir, the dog, went shooting after it like it was a Frisbee. Silme, thoroughly embarrassed and having been surprised, slumped in Rowan’s arms. She was vaguely aware of him laughing.
She came to a minute or two later, sometime during Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution and found herself on the sofa in the other room. Blinking hard, she sat up and craned her neck to see Rowan at the griddle. Shirtless with well used grey sweat pants hanging low on his hips. She lifted her eyebrows a fraction of an inch and stared. She had no idea how she’d wound up dating fucking Hercules but she was not about to question it. Not in a million years.
Finding her footing, she stood up and walked over to the counter again, swatting Rowan’s rear end in retaliation for surprising her.
Rowan grinned his stupid grin with his perfect teeth and looked down at her. “Look! I made us pancakes! Aren’t I thoughtful?” He tilted his head innocently.
Silme gave him a withering look, but there was no heat behind it. She was so in love with him. “Don’t get cheeky. I was being nice and making us breakfast and you spooked me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You were just too cute, singing and dancing all by yourself in the kitchen, not a care in the world.” Silme could feel her face burning. Rowan looked down at her, still grinning, but his eyes were softer. He leaned down and kissed her on the temple, Silme smiling a little and snorting at the sweet gesture. “Yeah, so actually, the dog ate that pancake you flung across the room.”
“Your fault and your dog.” Silme pointed out, fetching the cheap butter-flavored syrup from one of the cabinets. “If he gets sick, you’re taking him to the vet.” She sounded stern but if something did happen to the dog, she’d be going with him in a heartbeat. Silme turned the CD player off.
“Hey, no, wait, put it back on! I was enjoying that,” Rowan protested, looking back and pointing at the CD player. Silme switched it back on, slightly surprised.
“Uhhh, how about Shoot to Thrill? Is that on this album?” Silme nodded and moved it forward a track. Rowan started bobbing to the music and went back to the pancakes. Silme snorted and watched him, leaning forward on the counter and smiling happily. He was such an adorable idiot.
Rowan, unlike her, sang at the top of his lungs. He actually wasn’t a bad singer, really, when he tried. Which he was not currently doing. He was probably singing slightly off key just to mess with her. When the pancakes were all done and on a serving plate, Rowan whipped around and snagged her hands, dancing with her. She did her best not to laugh but that was absolutely impossible with his stupid face and his happy ridiculous dancing. She wound up knocked out again and, this time, she woke up with her head on his thigh, both of them in the pillow pit. There was a plate of pancakes balanced precariously in front of her. When she smiled, he looked down at her and grinned, his mouth full, and looked back to the TV. He’d started some movie but Silme hardly cared. She was too busy looking at her stupid boyfriend to care.
And the pancakes tasted delicious.
So did Rowan’s mouth after breakfast, when they decided they’d both had enough of the pancakes. Butter flavored really wasn’t so bad. They both laughed when Let Me Put My Love Into You came on behind them in the kitchen but neither of them bothered to get up to turn it off. They were a little preoccupied at that particular moment. Making out took precedence. And when the album wrapped, they were a lot more preoccupied with each other than that.
“You should make pancakes every morning,” Rowan declared afterward. Silme laughed, rolling her eyes and snuggled into him.
“You’re a moron,” she replied, laughter still in her tone.
"And you're a moron," Silme shot back immediately. Rowan pouted playfully and Silme laughed before kissing him again, catching the lower lip that was jutting out between her own softly. Rowan returned the kiss eagerly. "Yes, you're hot," SIlme eventually conceded.
Rowan just chuckled and started the movie over again. And this time they actually bothered to watch it.
