Pancakes (PruCan)

“Hey, slow down,” Matthew yelled after his boyfriend as he ran ahead of him, “the sidewalk’s been salted, Gil, it’s slippery!”

Winter was in full swing and the night before had seen the earth outside covered in a thick layer of fresh snow. Of course the footpaths and roads had been shoveled and salted, but it didn’t mean that caution still didn’t need to be exercised.

The man ahead of him just laughed and sped up, prompting Matthew to start jogging after him in a valiant effort to capture the albino man presently at high risk of slipping on the wet pavement. Their class had just let out and Gilbert, ever the eager one, had stood by Matthew as he’d shoved his books into his satchel and vocalised his extreme need to get home. Matthew, ever the realist, had reminded him that their apartment was a seven minute walk from campus and there was honestly no rush as they had the rest of the holiday season to spend slacking off and doing couple stuff together. By the end of the conversation Gilbert had been running.

“Gott im Himmel birdie, with that tone I could swear you were my mother!”

When Gilbert reached the corner of the street that turned onto theirs, he stopped and turned to face Mattie, who had slowed down to a hurried walk now that he had seen the other standing there waiting. When he’d caught up with him, he huffed, “Thank goodness, I thought I would have to be pulling your teeth out of the pavement when you slipped.”

“Oh please, I’m way too awesome to do something as stupid as losing my balance.”

“Gil, slipping on ice isn’t determined by your levels of awesome.”

The two of them smiled and laughed at each other before linking arms and calmly walking (much to Matthew’s relief) the last stretch to their apartment complex. Once inside the two of them pulled off their winter boots and unwrapped scarves with tingling fingers before collapsing together on the couch.

“Are there still pancakes left in the fridge?”

Matthew smiled and gave a small nod, “Yeah, half a stack I think.”

“Do you think they’d taste good heated up?”

“I dunno, you’d have to go microwave them and find out.”

Gilbert hmm’d and got up with a grunt and left for their little kitchen. After a little bit of clattering and talking Gilbert walked in and plopped back down on their sagging couch with the plate of pancakes in one hand and a bottle of maple syrup in the other. He grinned at Matthew and declared they were cold, claiming they would taste great anyway because Matthew had been the one to make them.

Matthew just smiled and left him to his pancakes.

Not long after and he was almost done with the plate. “I was right, these taste great.” He paused to soak up the dregs of maple syrup with his last bite of pancake. “They’re fluffy and sweet, just like mein little birdie.”

“Your little birdie that could totally whoop your ass in hockey.” Matthew teased and swept up some syrup on his finger.

“Beside the point. You know, I thought pancakes were just a thing parents and big sisters knew how to make.”

“Wait, what,” he laughed, “really? They’re so easy to make though.”

Gilbert elbowed him. “Just take the compliment, birdie. You’re an awesome cook.”

“Almost as awesome as you are?”

“Just as awesome as I am.”