John awoke to an awful smell wafting from the kitchen that he and his boyfriend, Karkat, shared. Stumbling out from under the bed covers, John inched almost fearfully down the hall. As he got closer to the kitchen, a various assortment of rather creative curses drifted out of the room. A frown touched his mouth. Karkat avoided the kitchen like the plague. John always did the cooking, while Karkat read him sappy romance novels from the dining room. His boyfriend hadn't stepped foot in their kitchen since the day they moved into the apartment six months ago!
The cursing got louder as John advanced. He got close enough to peek in, and gasped quietly at the sight he beheld: Karkat stood in the center of a veritable disaster zone! Egg innards lined the counter in a ring around an empty bowl. On the opposite counter, milk leaked out from under a hastily placed towel near a bowl full of cereal. Some unidentifiable substance sat, smoldering and forgotten on the stove.
The current disaster under way happened to be a piece of slightly charred toast being drowned in about half a stick of butter, a jar of jam standing by, waiting for its untimely demise.
John stepped into the room and put his arms over Karkat's shoulders. "Karkat," he giggled, his boyfriend jumping in surprise and turning to face John, "What are you doing?"
"I…" He blushed and cast an embarrassed glance around the kitchen, "I was trying to cook breakfast…"
John considered the spectacle around him with amusement. "Karkat, you never cook. You never even come into the kitchen. Not even to make a sandwich!"
"And now you can see why." Karkat grimaced.
John laughed again. "Yes I can!" He started picking up the mess his boyfriend had made. "Here, get out the griddle; I'll teach you how to make pancakes."
John tried to involve Karkat in the process as much as possibly could: Gathering supplies—and having to describe both whisks and spatulas in agonizing detail—Mixing the batter—about half of it ended up on the floor—And pouring the stuff onto the griddle—when on the griddle, they resembled mutilated giraffes more closely than circles.
Looking at the product with a wide grin plastered onto his features, John snickered. "Well, that went well!"
Karkat leaned in from behind John and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Happy Anniversary, John." He whispered.
John leaned his head back to rest on Karkat's shoulder.
"Happy Anniversary, Karkat."