a hole in your game
HSM, Troy/Gabriella, G.
Notes: A little snippet. It had plot it in. I swear.
Gabriella is half-consumed in her book when the smell hits her. The book is properly dog-eared and closed before she rushes over to the stove, heat stings at her cheeks.
She stares at the misshapen pancakes on the griddle with their flipped-too-early top, and just-about-to-be burnt bottoms, with a small sigh she lifted the pancakes up with her fingers burning the tips on the griddle. They fell heavy onto the plate.
Her foot catches on the spatula and she nearly swears.
Gabriella is nursing a burnt thumb and waiting for the bacon to finish in the microwave when she hears the door bell ring, and she knows it's Troy, but hopes it isn't.
"Morning," Troy says, his hair is shower-damp and he smells sharp and clean.
"Good morning, uh, breakfast is almost ready," She gives him a reassuring smile because she knows he's slightly skeptical. Not that he'd say it out loud.
Troy smiles, and his smile is somewhat of a comfort. Slow and bright. He nods and pats his belly twice before falling onto the couch and retrieving the remote.
The plate doesn't look as bad as she anticipated. The bacon came out nearly perfect, the pancakes were still awful, but two pats of butter and a thick layer of syrup fixed that. Store-bought fruit salad was spooned into bowls.
Troy walked in when she was pouring the orange juice, she pointed him to the right plate, the one with a mountain of everything. "Wow, this looks awesome."
She smiled and settled into their own seat. Troy didn't seem to be picky about where to start, he plowed through the pancakes and asked through a thick mouthful, "Are there any more of these?"
Silverware scraped against porcelain and Troy was leaning back in his chair. Looking satisfied with his meal.
He ran his thumb along the plate picking up syrup and bits of bacon.
"You're disgusting," Gabriella laughed.
He sucked his thumb clean. "Was it just me or were those pancakes burnt?"