I wanted to punch something when I woke up that next morning… but in a good way. Apparently, it's called cute aggression.
When I sat up and looked over at where Sam was sleeping, I saw that he was fully cuddling with Laslow, in that he had both his arms wrapped around the sleeping cat. They were both still fast asleep.
Damn, I wanted to be held like that. Heh, I supposed that's what the flowers growing by the window were for.
I wanted to sit there and watch them forever. But I was starving. Maybe they'd stay asleep while I made breakfast.
I quietly got out of bed and headed over to the kitchen, then reached into the cupboard and grabbed my pancake mix. I hoped these would be the best pancakes I'd made in my life to date.
When the pancakes were eventually cooking on the pan, I looked over at Sam and Laslow again. Laslow had shifted, but they were both still asleep. Their breaths looked deep and relaxing. I hoped they were having good dreams.
Maybe fifteen or so minutes later, I had two plates of pancakes buttered and syruped, three pancakes on each plate. As they sat on the counter, I silently judged them, hoping I'd done well making breakfast for the guy I loved. I also tried to figure out which plate looked better, so Sam could have it.
A very insistent meow snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked over, and as was going to happen eventually, Laslow was pacing around his food bowl and screaming at me to give him breakfast, too. I supposed that if I was in his shoes, or… paws, I guess, and forced to smell delicious pancakes that were out of my reach, I'd be doing the exact same thing.
With a bit of a giggle, I asked "You hungry, buddy?"
He gave me the loudest meow yet, surely cussing me out for being Captain Obvious.
I then opened a cabinet and grabbed his bag of food. By the time I was starting to haul it toward his bowl, he was pacing around my feet, so I had to step carefully. I'd figured out long ago that he did this routinely because "proper proportions" could fuck off; he wanted the entire bag in my hands, and he knew he'd only get it if it hit the floor just right. Smart little dude.
As I poured Laslow's food into his bowl, I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I then heard some muted cracking noises that I could only interpret as the kind you'd get from a stretch.
I looked up to find that Sam had now woken up, and was doing just that: getting a morning stretch.
I honestly got taken aback at the memory that, oh yeah, Sam had slept over. A surge of anxiety barreled through my stomach as I hoped I hadn't woken him up with all the noise. Also, sheesh, was he always that hot when he stretched? He wasn't even shirtless or anything like that; he wore the same jacket and shirt he'd worn the previous night. He must have been that exhausted, and understandably so. His hair definitely was a little ruffled, too. Strands that would normally be standing straight up were hanging down, and one was even hanging down over his face. Hot damn, I could only imagine how he looked in whatever sleep shirt (or lack thereof, I didn't know) he normally slept in.
I then realized I'd nearly submerged Laslow's bowl in food, to the point that you could barely see it. Now thoroughly mortified, and my face now growing as red as a tomato, I rushed to scoop the excess back into the bag. Laslow stood there and ate. If he could, he surely would have laughed evilly at the extra portion he'd acquired.
As I put the food bag away and closed the cabinet door, Sam said "Good morning." But when I tell you I barely recognized it as his voice, I mean it. Well, okay, upon reflection, it still was definitely his voice, but at the time, the sleepiness in it, the way it was taken down by half an octave and was just a tad bit gravelly… I was not prepared.
I wasn't prepared for a lot of this, I realized. Didn't mean I was complaining, though. Nah, quite the opposite; I hoped all of it could be a memory I could replay to pick me up whenever I felt down.
"Good mornin'!" I replied with a smile. "I, uh… I made breakfast, if you'd like. If not, though, that's fine, too."
"Wait, you…" he said, getting up off the ground and taking a couple of steps toward the kitchen before his eyes met the table with the plates of pancakes.
"I hope I didn't wake you up with all the racket," I said.
"N-Nah," Sam replied, sitting down at the table. "It was Laslow frantically wriggling out of my arms that did that."
"Oh," I laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that. He's serious about his food."
Sam looked over at Laslow, who had not looked up from his breakfast ONCE since I'd given it to him, and said "I see that."
As I took the other seat by the other plate of pancakes, I noticed that he was frantically trying to tidy his hair up, tucking the stray strands of hair into reasonable places. I had the urge to tell him he didn't have to worry about being the most presentable for a pancake breakfast after a sleepover, but that felt too risky. What if it sounded strange?
"Oh, uh…" he then said. "Thanks for the pancakes!"
"Don't worry about it!" I smiled. "Nothing like pancakes to get you going in the morning!"
"Agreed," Sam nodded, picking up his silverware and pretty much digging right into his plate.
I did the same, thinking to myself that I'd definitely nailed the presentation at the least, if his reaction was that positive.
After taking the first bite, he said "Dang, these are amazing! You make a mean pancake!"
"Haha, thanks!" I said, blushing a bit. "…Though I hate to destroy your dreams, but it's just a pancake mix. Nothing made from scratch or anything."
"Well, then… you know your way around a box of pancake mix!" said Sam, his mouth already full of his next bite.
"Well, thank you," I laughed.
Even I had to admit, I'd made these pancakes pretty damn good this morning. I supposed I was trying just a tad harder considering I wanted to impress, but I'd actually pulled off an above-average result. Nice!
A few more bites later, he looked at the clock on my kitchen wall and, genuinely surprised, reacted "It's only 6:30?"
"Yeeeeah, I'm an early riser," I said. "Thus, so is Laslow."
"I'm usually never up before 9," Sam marveled. "And even that's a stretch."
"You still sleepy?" I asked without thinking.
"Pssh, naaah," he replied. "I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."
Somehow, I believed him.
We ate for a few more minutes, until both of us only had a couple of bites left.
"Did you sleep well?" I asked.
"I did," Sam said, his tone a little more heartfelt. "I… Actually, I slept better than usual last night."
"Oh?" I replied, not being able to hold back a smile. "I'm glad."
If nothing else, hearing him say that made my day. Even if I eventually confessed my feelings and learned they were unrequited, those words were going to be a core memory for the rest of my life.
"Yeah," he then said. "Seriously… thank you. For… all of this."
The look on his face… He was happy. He was smiling, and there was peace in his eyes. My heart got struck with a flaming arrow, or so it felt like.
"Of course," I replied. "I meant what I said. You just let me know if there's ever anything you need."
He didn't immediately reply. He looked down at his plate, his smile lowering to a contemplative smirk. He then took another bite.
I went to do the same. Just as I was about to put this bite, the second to last, in my mouth, he spoke.
"What can I do to thank you?"
Something about the sincerity in that question caught me completely off guard.
"W-What do you mean?" I asked.
"You let me sleep over, then made me breakfast," Sam explained, as if he was confused that I was confused. "That was super cool of you. So I wanna do something for you. And no, 'You don't have to do anything' isn't gonna cut it. Come on. Name your price."
In this moment… I can best describe it as my brain shutting off and my heart taking over.
"Y-You've already done more than enough," I said, setting my bite back down on my plate and speaking the words as they emerged from my heart. "Sam, when I first arrived here, you made absolute sure I felt welcome. You managed to do it in such a way that… it was more than just a courtesy thing. At least… it felt that way. You, Sebastian, Abigail… everyone else in this cozy little town… I feel legitimately welcome in a place, in people's lives, for the first time in my adult life. I'm the one that owes you all the thanks in the world, if I'm being honest."
A beat of silence. My brain regained control, and bombarded me with embarrassment for the landslide I'd just spoken.
"S-So, uh…" I said. "Just… If you need an answer, just… keep being you."
Well, that came out more fluffy than I'd anticipated. Though that didn't mean it wasn't 100% true.
While I sat and silently tried to calm my nerves down, he just stared at me with a dumbfounded expression. I sighed, realizing I totally should have expected that reaction.
"I-I'm sorry for… bombarding you with all that," I said in a desperate attempt to remedy the situation in my mind's eye.
"…No, it's okay," he replied, looking a little less shocked… but definitely blushing up a storm, I now noticed.
I was definitely doing so, too. I couldn't tell what this moment had become. Was it hella awkward, hella romantic, hella cringe, or what?
Maybe "hella sweet" was the best way to put it.
Because the next words out of his mouth, more heartfelt than any before, were "I'm glad I could do that for you. You're awesome, and, uh… I'm happy you moved here."
Author's note: Hello again after two months. And possible see you again in another two months? Or another two days? Basically, what I'm saying is I have no schedule for this. I'm just knocking this out… whenever. But don't you worry, I'll definitely knock it out!