“HEYYYY MATHEWWWWW!” You screamed, running down the hall.
Your Canadian friend winced at the volume of your voice and turned to greet you just as you tried to tackle him with a hug. He stumbled backwards, but managed to stay on his feet. You released him grinned again.
“Hello, (name),” Mathew said quietly with a soft smile.
“Hey Mattie! Guess what I learned to do?” you asked enthusiastically.
“Speak at a normal level?” he jokingly guessed.
You lightly smacked his arm and poked your tongue out, childishly.
“No, silly, guess again,” you said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Tell me.”
“I learned how to make pancakes, I want you to eat some!” you smiled.
“Um, okay (name), I’ll try your pancakes,” Mathew said.
You shook your head. “No, I haven’t made them yet, that’s why you need to come over to my house tomorrow,” you explained.
Mathew gaped and turned a bright shade of pink.
“M-me?” Mathew stuttered. “Come to your house?”
“Uh-huh! My parents are out of town but they said I could have one or two friends over if I wanted.”
“Um, okay? I suppose I could come over…” he said hesitantly.
“Great! See you tomorrow Mathew!” you said, sprinting the opposite direction.
You hummed to yourself as you set up the pancake ingredients, eggs, flour, sugar, and the likes. You were happy that Mathew had accepted your invitation; you were doing this for him after all. You hated how everyone ignored him as if he was a ghost. Besides you, only his brother Alfred and a handful of others even knew his name. And those people often mistook him for his brother.
Pancakes were Mathew’s favorite. When you discovered this fact you had begged Francis to teach you how to make them perfectly. You wanted to make your Canadian friend feel special.
The doorbell rang. You ran to the door with a flash of (h/c) hair. You opened the door to reveal a slightly uncomfortable Mathew. He smiled when he saw you.
“Hi, (name),” he said softly.
“Hey! Come on in!” you said, pulling him through the door.
You had him remove his shoes and you pulled him through the house into your kitchen. You set him at the counter and gave a little bow.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” you said in a professional voice. “Prepare to be amazed by (name) (last/name)’s magnificent pancakes!”
Mathew smiled and lightly clapped as you bowed again. You then proceeded to set to work mixing the ingredients. Finally, you had a batch of perfect pancake mix.
“And now, I shall need a volunteer from the audience,” you said, pretending to scan the crowd.
Mathew smiled and raised his hand, playing along with your antics.
“Excellent sir! Step right up, don’t be shy,” you grinned.
“What would you have me do, oh (name) the Magnificent?” Mathew asked.
“You sir, get the extreme honor of…. Pouring the batter!” you said, humming out fanfare.
Mathew smiled and poured the batter onto the hot skillet in perfect circles. When they were ready, you flipped them and placed them on a plate. You worked together like that until there was no more batter to pour. When the last pancake was cooked, you divided them into two stacks and set them on the counter with silverware and two glasses of milk. Mathew offered you his arm.
“Would you join me for a meal, Milady?” Mathew said.
“Of course good sir,” you said linking arms with him.
He led you to your chair and pulled it out for you to sit down. He sat down as well and you reached for a bottle.
“What good would pancakes be without maple syrup?” you smiled.
Mathew grinned and proceeded to drown his pancakes in syrup. You did the same to a lesser degree. You watched carefully as Mathew cut a piece and raised it to his lips. He put it in his mouth and smiled contently.
“How is it?” you asked anxiously.
“Wonderful, (name),” he assured you.
You grinned and dug into your combined creation. The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you ate. When you finished you offered to clear the plates, but Mathew insisted he do it.
As he washed the dishes, you put away the supplies. You were about to shelve the flour when you slipped. Flour rained down on you and everything in the kitchen, leaving a light dusting of white.
You sat on your but dumbfounded and looked at Mathew. He had a shocked expression on his face that slowly spread into a smile. Before you knew it, he was laughing at you. Your cheeks grew warm.
“Oh, yeah?” you said, getting to your feet. “Let’s see how you like it.”
You grabbed a handful of flour off the counter and threw it in his face. Mathew stopped laughing and got a mischievous look on his face. Before you knew it, you and Mathew had engaged in a flour war. The both of you were throwing fistfuls of flour in hair, faces and clothing. Before long, you both lay on your kitchen floor, heads next to each other, panting and smiling.
You both turned your head to look at the other. Purple eyes met (e/c) ones. Before you knew what was happening, he was leaning towards you. Your lips met, and you mused to yourself that he tasted like maple syrup.
Oh, yeah. You were defiantly making pancakes again.