Part 37
I woke up the next morning to find that Brian had already woken up, and Quinn was snoring next to me. I heard a noise coming from the kitchen- someone was moving pots and pans around, but hearing Jeph and Brendon's loud snoring, I could tell it was Brian.
'Don't tell me Syn's making pancakes…I wonder what he wants to talk about.'
Synyster cooking anything was bad enough…let alone pancakes. I stepped out of the bedroom, trying not to wake up Quinn. Closing the door, I peeked around the corner just to see what exactly Brian was up too…but saw no one.
"GAH!" I squealed, as I felt hands pulling me backwards into a hug.
"Hey babe…" Brian whispered in my ear.
'Babe? What was he calling me babe for?'
"I made omelets." He said, pulling away, smiling.
"Babe? Omelets? Who are you, Mr. Hot-Shot Chef?"
"Let's eat!" he squealed.
God. The one thing I didn't want was Synyster's poor, disastrous, depressing cooking.
"Okay." I sighed.
I walked over to the kitchen, Jepha and Brendon snoring over on the couch, and a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter.
'Oh man. Syn's drunk? This early? After he got let out of the hospital? God he's stupid.'
I sat down at the table, two omelets lying there.
'Syn's cooking…drunk? His cooking is bad enough when he isn't drinking. For some reason this omelet looks so…perfect. I'll try it anyway.'
I sat down with Syn and took a bite of the omelet.
"Oh my god! This is…really…good! You should cook drunk more often!" I said with a mouthful of food.
"God Al! You're such a bad influence. You're telling him to drink more often, saying his good, and talking with your mouth full!" Quinn came out of the bedroom.
"But it is good! Try some!" I gave Quinn a small bite of my omelet.
"Holy…frickin…crap…" he said chewing.
"I second what she said…drink before you cook man!" he continued.
"Yours is over there." Syn said, pointing to the counter.
Quinn walked over to the counter to get his omelet.
"He can't be all that drunk. I mean, he didn't set the place on fire." Quinn said, sitting down.
"Yeah, but he was drunk enough to call me 'babe'."
"Ha…wait- he's not that drunk…and he called you 'babe'?"
"Yeah…"
"Maybe he's very drunk. Either that or…"
"God no!" I screamed.
"But there was that one time…" Brendon said, grabbing his shirt off of the back of the couch.
"Haha. Yeah, I remember that…"Brian took a bite of his omelet, and winked at me.
"What happened?" Quinn asked, raising his eyebrow.
"Nothing babe." I looked at him.
"Seriously what happened?"
"Well…" Brendon said, grabbing an omelet and joining us.
"…don't you dare." I whispered, kicking him under the table.
I could feel myself blushing.
'God this isn't good…' I thought.