Ted's POV

I awoke that morning and rolled over to find Blake's side of the bed empty. I checked the clock - ten after ten. I had overslept and even that was understatement. I put on some clothes as quickly as I could, eager to see what Blake and his sister might be up to.

I came into the kitchen and found a sight that managed to delight my sleep-filled eyes. Blake and Gracie were standing side by side, chattering away quietly with smiles on their faces. I took a moment to savour their happiness, and then cleared my throat to let them know I was finally awake.

"Hey!" Blake said turning toward me, his voice full of life. Gracie looked over and offered a shy smile, hidden from her brother's view.

"Sorry I slept in so late", I told them both.

"It's okay" Blake said, extending his usual two-word response, right on queue. "We are going to cook you up a storm", he nearly sang. "...and by 'storm', I mean breakfast."

I couldn't help but smirk at his exuberance. "Can I do anything to help?" I inquired, knowing he would probably tell me there was nothing I needed to do.

"No, no. Just have a seat" he told me, as I knew he would. "I put today's paper on the table. Do you want something to drink?"

My eyes widened. Not only was the paper there, the table was already set too. "I'm..." I almost used his famous F-word, but stopped myself before it left my mouth. "I'm good...I'm great", I told him.

"Okay, so we have two options" he told me, putting his hand lightly on his sister's shoulder as if to emphasize the 'we' in his statement. "Pancakes or eggs?" he asked me.

"Whatever Gracie wants" I said, smiling in the young girl's direction.

He gazed for a moment, looking slightly confused as his eyes darted between our mutual smiles. "What do ya say, kiddo?" he asked, looking down at her.

She seemed more than a little nervous at having to make the decision. "I don't know" she murmured bashfully, lifting her fingers to her mouth.

"Either one's fine with us" Blake assured her, glancing over at me to check whether or not he was correct. I smiled to let him know he was.

After a few more seconds of hesitation, Gracie revealed her choice, whispering it into her brother's ear.

"Pancakes it is!" he exclaimed.

I sat there at the kitchen table soaking in his vitality, and though I wondered just how long it would last, it didn't stop me from delighting in the sights and sounds of their togetherness. I kept my eyes mostly on the newspaper, but smiled to myself as they began to chatter away again, seemingly forgetting I was in the room. I was glad to be forgotten though. It gave me a window into their world that I had always hoped I would be given.

They were an incredible team. She fetched him everything he needed and seemed more than happy to do so, while he began measuring out ingredients. I imagined the two of them years ago, standing in their kitchen in much the same way, clamouring about, smiling, and enjoying their time together.

Twenty minutes passed and I realised I hadn't read a single news story. My eyes were on the paper, yes, but my mind was focused more on them than on the words in front of me. I did peek over once or twice, of course, returning my eyes quickly to the paper so neither one of them would catch me. On the third time though, I stared at little longer. My gaze caught on a red tea towel draped over Blake's left shoulder.

I smiled as a vision of him from years ago filled my mind. It was shortly after I had brought him home from the hospital to stay with me; I returned from work that evening to find him, not in bed as he should have been, but working away in the kitchen, a tea towel slung over his shoulder in that very same way. Even then he looked truly in his element, cooking away as if it was completely second nature. On that evening, his trusted sidekick was missing, and now, he was clearly delighted to have her by his side again.

Somehow, despite the welcome addition of Gracie and the cramped quarters of our kitchen, he managed to cook everything without ever making a mess. Even on that night I had arrived home from work all those years ago, the kitchen was utterly, almost eerily spotless, especially considering the number of dishes he had somehow managed to prepare. This morning was no exception.

It was glaringly and comically different to the way Emmett operated in the kitchen during the short time we lived together. If he was cooking, there was guaranteed to be more food on the floor, on the counter, and strewn across the cabinet doors than anywhere near a frying pan or a pot. I may have adored him, but I would be lying if I said the neat freak in me didn't weep each time he told me he would "whip up" a quick meal.

I must have laughed out loud as the image of that food-covered kitchen entered my mind because I suddenly heard Blake direct a one-word question toward me. "What?" he asked, looking over with a playful expression.

"Nothing" I told him, shaking my head and feeling slightly embarrassed.

Thankfully, it didn't take him long to return to the task at hand, and soon the smell and sizzle of pancakes began to fill the air.

"Smells amazing" I told them, lifting my nose in the air to take in the scrumptious scent.

He smiled at his sister and seized the opportunity to give her confidence a boost; the same opportunity he always took whenever my own confidence had dwindled, which happened more often than I cared to admit. "With Gracie in the kitchen, they're bound to taste amazing too", he exclaimed enthusiastically.

"I don't doubt it", I told them both. I was sure they would.

The young girl blushed and lowered her head instantly. "What else can I do?" she asked, quickly diverting the attention away herself in the same way I had many times.

"How about you take the syrup over to the table, okay?" he told her, fetching the bottle from the fridge.

She brought it over and gave me a shy smile as she set it down next to my plate. "Thanks you" I whispered, smiling back at her with equal shyness.

Then Blake began surveying the kitchen with a spatula dangling from his right hand. "Plates, plates, plates" he chanted, as if he hoped they would come when called.

Before he had a chance to find them, Gracie had them in her hands and was ready at his side. "Anything else?" she asked quietly, looking up at him.

"You can have a seat with Ted if you want" he told her, but she still seemed eager to help. He chuckled when, after a few seconds, he realized she hadn't yet left his side. "Or...if you really want to, you can start putting all the ingredients away", he told her.

She took on the task happily and began clearing the counters, putting the eggs, milk, and butter back into the refrigerator.

I returned my eyes to the newspaper until I heard something drop to the floor. When I looked over, I saw a bag of flour, tipped over, lying sideways on the tile. There was a white, powdery mess scattered across the kitchen floor.

I wasn't sure how the flour had wound up there, but then Gracie began to panic. Her face turned red instantly and she apologized again and again, repeating the word "sorry" until it seemed to lose all meaning. It was like she was sure someone was going to snap at her; like her panic came not from the mess she had accidentally created, but from the anticipation of what she was sure would follow it.

Blake was quick to reassure her though, as I knew he would be. "Hey, hey. It's okay" he told her, remaining light-hearted and calm as he leaned down and picked up the fallen bag. "It's only flour."

Despite his calm and collected approach, I could see her eyes begin to well up with tears. She was about to get down on her hands and knees to clean up the scattered white mess until he stopped her. "Gracie...look..." he said, taking gentle hold of her arm and directing her attention to the bag of flour in his left hand. Both she and I watched as he stuck his hand inside the bag and pulled out whatever bit of flour would fit in the pinch between his pointer finger and his thumb.

Then he raised an eyebrow, smiled just slightly, and let the flour fall from his fingers to the floor. "See?" he said. "It's only flour." While she gazed wide-eyed at the tile beneath her feet, he looked over at me and mouthed a "sorry" of his own, probably thinking that the neat freak in me would be cringing at the added mess. I wasn't cringing though, just watching in awe as he skilfully and lovingly defused the entire situation.

When Gracie looked back up him, clearly still distressed, he tilted the bag of flour toward her. "Go ahead", he insisted. She looked baffled, and rather than do as he suggested, she glanced over at me. Like her brother, she must have thought of this apartment as my place rather than his, and now she wanted my approval before doing as he asked. I nodded at her reassuringly, but she stood frozen in place, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears. So I let my instincts take over and I walked to Blake's side. Once there, I stuck my own hand in the bag of flour, and grabbed out an even bigger pinch than he had managed. I tossed it to the floor as nonchalantly as I could, momentarily shocking both her and her brother. They may not have known it, but I would have gladly silenced my inner neat freak a thousand times to preserve whatever happiness they had managed to grab hold of that morning.

I watched as the corners of Gracie's mouth turned upward into a hesitant smile. She reached into the bag slowly and grabbed her own bit of flour, finally letting her panic subside as she dropped it to the floor. When she looked back up at her brother and me, an even bigger smile was painted on her face.

"That's it!" Blake exclaimed, cheering her on and returning her grin. In the middle of his cheering though, he took a moment to glance over at me, this time mouthing a characteristically earnest "thank you."

I smiled and nodded just slightly, grateful as I always was for his unending thankfulness. Then, surprising both of them once more, I reached into the bag of flour, this time grabbing a whopping handful and throwing it into the air.

I watched, delighted as their eyes widened and they both burst into laughter. Before long we were all dunking our hands in the flour and tossing it upward, creating a cloud of white powder above our heads. It was bliss, for me and for them. I would have gladly made that moment last forever if could have. I longed for some magical power that would keep this joy alive and protect it from the waves I knew were rising underneath. For now though, we were floating above them - safe, happy, and carefree.