A/N: Jentacular (adj)–pertaining to breakfast

I actually just had homemade pancakes the other day, which (for me, since I can't cook) is an oddity… haha.

Jentacular

19— London

The early morning sun streamed through the open window and a light breeze ruffled the curtains. Bert stood at the pane, relaxed and refreshed, looking out at the exquisite spring day, a bright smile crossing his handsome face. Today was a rather special day for him and his wife: he had been planning this morning for days now and he was beyond excited to be spending time beside her, no matter how ordinary the task; he just couldn't get enough of his lovely Mary.

He turned to look down upon her somewhat disheveled sleeping form and his eyes softened; she was smiling contentedly in her sleep and she released a quiet sigh as she slightly adjusted her position, the covers sliding down a bit further from her shoulder. His hand tenderly brushed her cheek and he smiled warmly to himself; she was beautiful, and he felt extremely lucky to have her. Not wanting to wake Mary, he silently left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. A little preparation was necessary, and he wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

***

Mary awoke with a radiant smile, her eyes still closed, stretching with the satisfaction of a good night's rest and moving onto her side to face the middle of the comfortable bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Her smile dipped a little when she did not receive a response, and her eyes quickly opened to find her husband's side of the bed cold and empty. An eyebrow rose in alarm; he was not one to disappear from bed in the early hours of the weekend morning. Mary heard the faint sound of pots and pans clanging from the kitchen downstairs and she suddenly remembered what day it was, and she groaned uncharacteristically and sank back into the soft pillows, placing her hands against her forehead.

She had been somewhat dreading this morning for the past few days since Bert had made his plan. It was foolish of her to be nervous, she knew, but she couldn't help it; if there was one thing she was even remotely self-conscious about, it was this…

***

A few days ago she and Bert had been sitting together at the kitchen table before he went off to work for the day. He'd been reading the newspaper and she, having been in a rather mischievous mood that morning (though, he would joke, she always seemed to be in a mischievous mood as of late), had been making the words jump all over the page from the other side of the table, and innocently sipping her tea as she did so.

"I think something's wrong with the newspaper," Bert said, creasing the top down slightly so he could peer over it knowingly at Mary.

"Oh?" she asked nonchalantly, looking up at him from her tea. "That's odd. I wonder what it could be."

"Hmm… I wonder who it could be is more the question," he mumbled, folding the paper and setting it down beside his cup.

"Are you accusing me of bewitching your newspaper?" she asked, her eyes glowing playfully.

"No… I guess not. I suppose it could have been someone else. My perfect, lovely wife must have nothing to do with this," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

She sniffed and stood from her chair going to the counter and pouring herself another cup of tea.

"Would you like more tea, darling?" she asked sweetly, leaning down and giving him a light kiss on the cheek while carefully placing her own full cup on the table.

"Only if you promise not to enchant that, too."

Mary raised an eyebrow at him in a scandalised look and he laughed heartily as she gazed at him, her hands forming right angles on her hips.

"Well, if you don't want it…"

His laughter doubled and he handed her his cup, wiping an amused tear from his eye. She was so entirely predictable in her reactions, and he loved her for it; every chance he was given to toy with her, he used to its fullest potential. He was about to unfold his paper again when his stomach suddenly rumbled loudly and he looked down and patted it with a gentle hand.

"I'm hungry," he announced.

"Really, now?" Mary replied sarcastically, pouring his tea with a smile. "I never would have guessed."

"Hmm…" he began, his eyebrow creased in thought. "I have had the strangest craving for pancakes lately."

"Is that so?" she answered, setting his now full cup of tea down on the table in front of him. "Well, I can get those for you in a snap."

He rolled his eyes as she laughed merrily at her own terrible joke.

"You're hilarious. Honestly. My sides are splitting."

His deadpan expression only made her laugh more and he couldn't hold his smile in much longer; it spread across his face and he took Mary's hand and kissed it lightly. He released her hand and brought his cup of tea to his lips, taking a quick sip.

"And, as much as I appreciate your snaps," he chuckled, "I do believe I'm going to make them myself. There is nothing better than the smell of fresh pancakes wafting through the air as you heap 'em onto an enormous plate." His eyes sparkled and he took another drink of his tea. "Would you like to help?"

Her mind stopped briefly at his statement as he looked expectantly into her suddenly hesitant eyes. This was something she'd been foolishly self-conscious of for a long time, and she wasn't exactly sure that she wanted him to know of her inexperience with many simple, everyday things just yet.

Mary had discovered her rather unique talents at a very young age, and since then she'd been using her powers for just about everything. It had never been that she didn't want to know how to do things like everyone else; it was just that she didn't have to. Over the years she had grown so used to merely snapping her fingers that she had not taken the time to actually learn how to complete the task at hand without the aid of magic. In fact, it had not even occurred to her until she had fallen in love with Bert; despite him always saying that he loved her for who and what she was, somewhere in the back of her mind were minute—but ever-present—fears that he would want some semblance of normalcy in their life together, which she knew was not (and never would be) possible while she was around.

"Mary?" he said when she didn't answer, interrupting her thoughts.

She sighed imperceptibly, shaking herself from her reverie. Though she would much rather uphold her practically perfect image, even around him, it seemed that she had no choice in the matter; if he didn't find out now, he would later, and there was no sense in attempting to prolong the inevitable. She sighed again and her cheeks tinged a faint pink with slight embarrassment.

"I would like to help, Bert," she began tentatively, "but I… I don't know how."

She lowered her gaze from his when his jaw dropped open in shock and his brown eyes grew wide.

"You mean to say that you've never made pancakes before?"

She shook her head.

"Never?"

"Never," she repeated. "I've always just… snapped."

He looked at her in disbelief again and his eyes suddenly lit up and a brilliant smile stretched across his face.

"Well, then," he said excitedly, bringing his teacup to his lips once more, "I'll just have to teach you."

"What?"

"We'll make an entire morning out of it. How does this weekend sound? Are you busy?"

He flashed her a cheeky grin and she inwardly sighed, but gave him a bright smile instead.

"I'm never too busy for you, Bert."

He rose from his seat, giving her a luminous smile and a kiss on the cheek, and he grabbed an apple on the way out of the kitchen, tossing it up and down in his hand. He winked as he grabbed his brooms, and with a slight wave he opened the door and left for a long day of work.

***

Her mind wandered from her thoughts and she sat up in bed, dangling her legs over the edge before setting her feet on the cool wood floor. Why did I agree to go through with this? she asked herself. I am going to look like an enormous fool.

If there was anything Mary Poppins disliked, it was being made a fool of. It happened so rarely, if at all, that she didn't have to worry much, however she feared that in this particular situation, her ignorance was going to be blaringly, and embarrassingly, obvious. Normally she smoothly and subtly evaded any circumstance that would put her in such a position, but this time, which was why she was so frustrated, it was unavoidable. She sighed and slowly dressed, taking her time, despite the knowledge that by delaying she was not making anything better. She knew that she had nothing real to be anxious about; Bert was not so petty to think less of her because she didn't know how perform a few common tasks. She knew full well that he loved her unconditionally, inexperience with normal matters and all, but it was her pride that made her concerns manifest. She was an awfully proud person who thought very highly of herself and, despite being able to do anything with her magic, without it… though she would not admit it aloud, without her magic she felt rather powerless. She liked being in control, and it was when she was not that she became nervous.

She sighed again and finished getting dressed, making the bed with a snap and shutting out the lights as she closed the door behind her. Her thoughts began to roam once more as she made her way quietly down the stairs. What if I completely mess things up? she thought worriedly. What if I can't do it?

That thought frightened her most of all; Mary Poppins not being able to do something as simple as make a pancake breakfast with nothing but the help of a few spoons and a pan? The notion was laughable, but she had a sinking feeling that it was true. Though she knew it was ridiculous to think she actually could do everything, she still wanted to preserve that idea in Bert's (and her own) mind. Even practically perfect people have their faults, she thought with a deep breath. And one of mine is about to be thrust into the open…

She entered the kitchen to find Bert hurrying about, placing pans and bowls and spoons on the counter and searching through the pantry, mumbling to himself the words printed on the labels of boxes under his breath.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, holding a small box aloft in the air. "Baking powder!"

"Do we have everything we need?" she asked, slightly hoping that they did not so she would have an excuse to go out and escape this embarrassment for just a few moments more.

"Yes! We have…" he pointed at the ingredients that were set neatly on the counter, "flour, salt, milk, sugar, eggs, butter, and," he lifted up the box he was still clutching in his right hand, "baking powder! All the ingredients for a delectable pancake breakfast."

He was beaming and Mary was finding it difficult to be anxious and unhappy with the situation. His usual cheerfulness had been multiplied, and her worries were lifted off her shoulders somewhat as her smile grew, his enthusiasm rubbing off on her.

"That sounds delicious," she said with a wide grin. "So… where do we start?"

"Well…" he began, leading her over to the counter as she tied her crisp white apron neatly around her waist.

He began measuring out the ingredients, showing her the amount for each one, and she dumped them carefully into the large bowl as he handed them to her. She readily soaked up all the information he offered; never missing a beat as he spoke. He was a natural teacher, and his happiness was apparent in every word and movement.

"All we have to do now is mix it together…" he handed her a spoon with a sly smile, "and then the real fun begins."

"The real fun?" she asked tentatively.

"Well, yes, you have to cook it, Mary. Can't just eat it as is," he chuckled.

"Yes, I know, Bert," she replied. "I'm not entirely unskilled in the kitchen, thank you."

"Really? So you know how to stir, then?"

"Yes, I know how to stir," she said, annoyed. "How incompetent do you think I am?"

She was giving him a stern glare and her eyes were flashing, and Bert could not stop himself from erupting in hysterical laughter. She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her forehead.

"Right, how could I have forgotten?" she said under her breath. "I married a child."

"You fell in love with this child, Mary, so you should be used to him already. Now keep stirring."

She gave him another glare and he returned it with a large, luminous smile.

"Please."

She shifted her gaze from his and began stirring the batter again as he readied the pan, pouring the slightest bit of oil and setting it on the stove to let it get hot. Though she was giving him a hard time, she had to admit that she was rather enjoying bustling about the kitchen and doing things, well… with her own two hands. Bert leaned over to look at the mixture and nodded.

"I think it's about ready now," he said. "Bring it over here and pour a bit onto the pan." She slowly tipped the bowl and allowed some of the batter to slide on the pan and it immediately started sizzling. "Ok, that's good," he continued and she stopped pouring, placing the bowl beside her. "Now watch."

He took the spatula he'd been holding and spread the batter into a flat, even circle. He let the cake sit for a little while and after a minute or two he carefully looked at the underside of the pancake and he smiled when he saw it was a savoury golden-brown.

"Alright, Mary; this here is the hard part. You have to flip it."

"How do you do that?"

"Well, you take the handle of the pan like so," he took it securely in his hand, "and you have to shake it a little to get the cake unstuck, and then…" he moved his wrist smoothly and quickly and the pancake was thrown into the air where it flipped over, landing safely back in the pan on its other side, beginning to sizzle once more. He let it cook for a few minutes and then, satisfied that it was finished, he took the spatula and flipped the pancake onto a large plate.

"That's all there is to it," he said cheerfully. "Your turn!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You get to try now."

"Bert, I don't think—"

"No way are you getting out of this one, Mary. You are flipping a pancake whether you like it or not."

She sighed in defeat and switched spots with him.

"Alright, so what do I do?"

He repeated the steps from before, pouring the batter onto the pan and waiting for it to be perfect before motioning her over. He placed his hand over hers when she took the panhandle, and together they tossed the pancake and it came down undamaged and it soon joined the other on the plate. His eyes were bright and a small smile tugged at her lips and he released her hand with a grin.

"See? It's not that difficult."

"Not with you, perhaps," she said, eyes shining.

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and he smiled vibrantly.

"I will be right back," he said. "I need to search for the syrup. Try one on your own while I'm gone."

He left the room in a rush and Mary looked determinedly at the bowl of pancake batter. She took a deep breath and picked up the bowl, carefully pouring the correct amount into the pan and allowing it to sizzle for a while, keeping a watchful eye on it to make sure it didn't start playing games with her. It's a pancake, what could it possibly do? she thought. I'm being ridiculous. She continued staring at the pan till she deemed it ready to be flipped. She hesitated before grasping the handle, her hand hovering over it for a few moments considering how badly this could go. She laughed quietly to herself; everything is going to be fine. She took the handle and shook the pan, the stuck cake loosening from the bottom and sliding around the oily surface. Alright… here goes nothing…

She tried it once and absolutely nothing happened. The cake barely made it to the edge of the pan, let alone up in the air. She narrowed her eyes at the pan and tightened her grip on the handle. Maybe it needs a little more force, she thought. She braced herself and flicked her wrist again, this time with perhaps a little too much force, and the pancake went flying not up, but out, and it was soon plastered against one of the kitchen cupboards.

"Damn it!" she muttered quietly, her swiftly growing aggravation making her language slip as pancake dripped down the face of the cupboard door. "Of course this would happen…"

She quickly set down the pan and clenched her fists at her sides, heaving a great sigh before bringing her hands to her forehead in complete and utter frustration. She crossed her arms irately over her chest, watching as her failed attempt to flip a pancake slid down the cupboard. Mary suddenly remembered herself and looked furtively over her shoulder, checking to make sure Bert wasn't there. When she was absolutely certain he was nowhere to be seen, she smiled and loudly snapped her fingers, the pancake immediately coming unstuck from the door and cooking itself to perfection, landing atop the other two on the plate, steam rising from its crispy golden-brown surface. She smiled in triumph, her blue eyes lighting up mischievously; Bert will never kn—

"Cheater!" he shouted laughingly from the threshold, interrupting her thought.

Oh, bother.

"Oh, and Mary," he said playfully, approaching the counter, "the pancake's supposed to go in the pan, not on the cupboard."

She blushed and her eyes grew wide; he'd seen it all. He started laughing when she realised it and Mary, little by little, overcame her embarrassment and began giggling along with him, snuggling into his arms when he wrapped them around her, both still laughing into the other's shoulders.

"So what happened to wanting to try things the normal way?" he asked, kissing her forehead lightly.

She smiled and leaned back to look into his eyes.

"Normal doesn't suit me, I've found."

"Oh?" he grinned, and tucked a stray hair away from her eyes.

"No," she shook her head, laughing quietly. "Normal doesn't suit me at all."

"Good. I'm glad," he said, leading her back to the stove. "Now let me finish these and you can set the ta—"

She had already snapped her fingers, causing the table to set itself; everything in its place for a proper breakfast. She smiled smugly and winked at him before going to sit down in her chair, watching him the entire time as he flipped the pancakes, whistling to himself as he worked. She sighed happily to herself once he was done and he sat down across from her, setting down the plate of pancakes and pouring a glass of orange juice for her and himself. She took it gratefully when he handed it to her and she gazed at him over the rim, her smile widening and her blue eyes sparkling. His warm brown eyes met hers and his brilliant smile grew as the same thought crossed both their minds: life can't get much better than this…