I couldn't resist another pot with Peter and Elizabeth.
She reached out her hand and felt the emptiness beside her. Peter must of left early. Not unusual he had been working on 'The Caffrey Case' for two years now. She blinked open her blue eyes - it was her birthday. She held her breath - she could hear him downstairs. It had started when they were dating, he would make her breakfast - the man could make some of the best blueberry pancakes but… well, let's just say his ability to work in the kitchen did not come close to his abilities as an FBI agent.
She pushed the covers back and got out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself as she headed down the steps. She heard him grousing and then the shattering of something glass.
She rolled her eyes and quickened her pace. "Peter? Honey, you okay?" She asked as she pushed open the kitchen door.
"Uh, yeah El… everything's fine." He looked up as she stepped into the kitchen.
She let her gaze wander across her once clean kitchen and let them come to rest on her husband, standing there with his brown hair all akimbo, bare chest covered with flour, black socks, and the heart shaped silk boxers she had given him for Valentine's Day. Her mouth twitched into an involuntary smile.
"Pancakes are just about ready but…" he looked at the broken coffee cup that laid at his feet, the pot in his left hand "I… well, I hadn't started…" he shrugged his shoulders.
She remembered the thick black viscous liquid he tried to pass off as coffee that she had forced herself to drink for three years straight on her birthday before she started getting up with him so she could make it.
She took another look around the kitchen and when she looked back at him two pleading brown eyes looked back at her. The coffee pot quivered in his hand.
"Let me have it…"
