A/N: All right! Here we have a return to the long ficcy-fics that I love to write so very much. This picks up after Seeing Double...if you couldn't figure that out…Psycho wants his arm back from a certain someone! Don't know what I'm talking bout? Too bad! Haha. Love ya, X!
Chapter 1
Jack put the phone back in its cradle, glanced at the clock on the microwave, and sighed. Why did his roommate have to sleep until 2 in the afternoon every single day? Bracing himself from the angry response he was about to get, he opened the door to Blaine's room.
"Time to get up!" he chirped, attempting to pull the blankets off his roommate's bed.
The mumbled response he got back was not very polite.
"Come on, I'm making pancakes!"
"I hate pancakes."
"It's two in the afternoon!"
As a response to this, a hand reached out from under the mound of blankets, grabbed a glass of water off the night stand and threw it at the intruder.
Jack stood there and considered the wet spot on his shirt. "Oh, very mature. Come on, you got a job offer."
"How much does it pay?"
"Starting price is three grand."
The no-longer sleeping form seemed to consider this for a moment, then groaned. "All right, fine, I'll be out in a minute."
Jack left the room happily, knowing that the more money Blaine brought in, the more cool stuff they'd get for the apartment. Whistling as he worked, the man started making the pancake batter.
Jack was just stacking the cakes on a plate when his roommate finally emerged from his room, wearing boxer shorts and a CIA t-shirt.
Jack looked up as Blaine entered the room. "I didn't know the CIA gave out t-shirts."
Blaine went to the cabinet and grabbed a box of frosted flakes. "They don't."
Jack waited for some explanation as to how Blaine had gotten the shirt, and rolled his eyes and went back to his pancakes when none came.
Jack began separating the stack of pancakes into two plates, and in the process of doing so, dropped one into the garbage can. Seeing that his roommate's back was still turned, Jack began to whistle again, removed the item from the garbage, and plopped it back onto Blaine's plate, brushing off an old piece of lettuce that had somehow gotten stuck to it.
Ready to enjoy watching his roommate eat the infected pancake, Jack sat quietly, and nonchalantly glanced at the man surveying the contents of the fridge.
"What are you looking for? I made pancakes!"
"I told you I don't like pancakes."
"Everybody likes pancakes! Here!" Jack picked one up and threw it at Blaine.
Blaine somehow managed to avoid being hit by the breakfast food without moving, but that could've just been because his roommate was a really lousy shot. Finally content with his findings, he picked up a bottle of Coke and the box of frosted flakes, got a bowl and spoon, and went down to sit down at the table with Jack.
Jack watched, an eyebrow raised as Blaine sat down at the table with the four items. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.
Blaine steadied the bowl with one hand and poured the frosted flakes in with the other. "No," he replied.
"What about milk? We have milk, you know."
"I don't like milk." He poured the Coke over the cereal, then picked up the spoon, and started eating.
Jack looked on in revulsion. "You can't eat that!"
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Don't tell an assassin what he can or can't eat for breakfast."
"I MADE PANCAKES!"
"Where's the job offer info you wrote down?"
"Here." Jack offered him a piece of floral stationary, which he took with his own look of revulsion. "Sounded legit to me, except for his name. Who's ever heard of a guy named Dread?"
