Disclaimer: I don't own "Heroes", or anything therein. All I own are my own imagination and West's thoughts.
Author's Note: Again, West is not in the dropdown list, so while he is the main character of this one-shot, Sandra and Claire are listed as the "official" main characters. Also, remember that this takes place just before Claire wakes up in "Out of Time" and may be AU as later episodes come down the pike. Please enjoy.
Wash your hands first, West, before you touch anything.
Turn the water on. Not too hot, but enough that you can feel your skin about ready to scream. Almost there. Get a dollop of dish soap. Swish.
Ow. Too hot.
Turn off the water. Dry your hands on a dish towel, not your jeans.
Aww, that's cute. Little Pomeranians all over them. Should've expected it.
Okay, ready to go. Look in the cabinets for the instant waffle batter. Best to use instant batter. Making it from scratch will take too long, and, besides, it will make a mess and that won't impress Mrs. Butler. Hope she's not too freaked that there's a guy in her kitchen making waffles.
Wonder if they have blueberries. Or strawberries. Or, ooh, chocolate chips! Chocolate chip waffles are sooo good.
Snap out of it, West! How much water does it say to add? Good. Now stir, stir, stir...
Arm's getting tired. Think the batter's fine now.
Turn the waffle iron on. Put in your butter. Roll it around a little. Is it sizzling? Up too high. There you go.
Think two'll fit on here if they're separated enough. Yep, they can.
Sweet.
La dee da, cook, cook, lift the edges up with a fork; no, not quite yet.
Little longer...
Aaaaand...flip!
Whoops. The second one got away a little. I'll have to wipe off the stove, now.
Hmm dee doo, cook, cook, cook...is it done yet? There you go. Time for the grand finale. Ouch, they're still hot. Here goes. Flick of the wrist...
"Who are you and why are you in my kitchen?"
Must be Claire's mother asking the question.
They don't really look all that alike.
Hmm.
She's brandishing a curling iron as if it were a light saber. Cute.
"Hi, Mrs. Butler!"
Oh, swizzle sticks, the waffles!
Plop! Splack!
Whew. Both on the plate. You are so good, West.
Oh, yeah, talking.
"My name's West. I'm Claire's boyfriend."
The curling iron lowers a little, but her eyes narrow still further.
Looks like one of those funny Japanese dolls.
"And you're in my kitchen because...?"
Oh. Forgot that part. Whoops.
"I'm making waffles. Would you like some? I, uh, thought I'd drop in and make my wake-up special for Claire. And her family."
Real smooth, West. Why don't you just grab the electric mixer over there, stick your tongue in it, and turn it on high.
"Oh. Um. Sure."
She sets the curling iron down on the counter and crosses to the coffeepot.
Hah. She never even had the curling iron plugged in.
"You made coffee?"
Coffee? Oh, yeah, that's right.
"Nothin's better with waffles. Here you go."
She stares at the plate, then smiles and accepts it, turning back to pour the coffee with one hand.
Right, so what's up now? Oh, yeah. Pour, pour, twiddle dee dum doo...
"So how do you like Costa Verde so far?"
Flip, cook, cook, la dee da...
"Hmm. Oh, it's lovely."
She sits on a stool and cuts into the waffle.
It's practically drenched in lush syrup and lathered in butter. Hello, cholesterol, this is Mrs. Butler calling!
Hmm dee doo, cook, cook, flick, flop, flop.
Better make the whole lot, West. Got enough here for maybe seven more. Leaves some for her brother---Lenny? Leo? Kyle?---and Mrs. Butler's running through hers like a tigress into her freshly killed antelope.
Hey, that was a kinda cool simile!
So much for that B in English.
"How are your classes?"
Flip. Cook, cook.
"Oh, they're not too bad. Claire's been helping me in biology class. She's really good at understanding how each little part of the body does its job."
Careful, West. That one's a bit too close; they'll merge.
There you go.
"Mmm. These really are wonderful..."
She's waiting for something.
Oh.
Duh.
"West."
"Yes, West, thank you. Just not functioning without two cups in me."
Heh, that's kinda cute. That's one thing they have in common.
Speaking of which, where IS Claire?
The last batch's almost done. I'll text her.
Oh, yeah, one-handed texting. You are the BOMB, West!
A noise.
Several noises.
Several thumps.
There she is, at the foot of the stairs, blonde hair beautifully disheveled, with one of those "It's too early for me to be figuring your weird self out, West" looks on her face. She takes some steps into the room, feet unsure of her path, legs still a little shaky, mouth open in confusion. All you've gotta do, West, is move in two steps and there's paradise in her mouth, fireworks on the fourth of July, the wish before blowing out the birthday candles, the sweet mix of syrup and butter and waffle all coming together as one, but there's Mrs. Butler and cute Mr. Muggles, and her dad and brother should be coming down the stairs soon too.
Flip.
Flop, splat.