Title .  Pancakes
Genre . Romance
Rating . PG – there is slight cursing, but generally it's not too bad.  I wasn't entirely sure to make it G or PG, so I went on the safe side… and made it PG just in case.
Movies . Slight spoiler of the third movie, but it doesn't really focus on the first two.
Summary . Fluff, sap – John and Kate need it too, right?  Kate, unable to sleep and feeling sad for John, makes him pancakes.  Unfortunately things go terribly awry…
Disclaimer . I do not own John Connor or Kate Brewster, mostly because they do not really exist, and even if they did, I still couldn't own them.  They are creations of… someone else.  I loved them so much in Terminator 3 that I had to write some more about them.  I'm not making any money off this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note . This is my first Terminator fanfic.  If they are out of character… I'm sorry.  I wrote this about a week ago (probably a little bit more), before I had seen the first two movies.  So I had to edit some stuff slightly later.  I decided to type it up tonight, because I was bored, I was tired of seeing no new Terminator fanfics, and because I just had to post something new.  I hope you enjoy it. 

John woke up at six again.  Groggy, he looked around the room.  Kate wasn't in her bed.  Unreasonable panic took over.  They'd been waiting too long, and his nightmares were becoming waking worries.

But why did he worry so much over Kate?  She was self reliant and strong willed.  She could fend for herself if something happened – although, down here, in the shelter, they were safe.

He rubbed his face and ran his hand through his hair.  Sometimes he wondered if the watchful waiting was worse than actual combat.  He realized at this point he couldn't judge: they only 'combat' had really been one-on-one – with the robots, anyway.  In fact, all he'd ever really done was run.  Run to survive.  To live.

For what?  He'd been down her for just weeks, and he was already sick of the shelter.  Moments around Kate were just awkward.  Sometimes they'd be open, relaxed – they'd share stories about their pasts.  They'd comfort each other.  But the only physical contact had been holding hands.

But then, other times tension would separate them. Kate was so hard to talk to when she – well, when the shock of it all hit her.  She'd spend days sitting, staring at nothing.  John had no idea how to handle that type of situation.  Fighting he could handle.  That was easier.  Living alone – that was even easier.

He wanted to help, but he had not lost what she had.  Every time she lapsed away – that was when he worried the most.  He could not save her then.

The clang of pots and pans soothed his unfounded worry.  His body relaxed in relief.  If she was making breakfast… she wasn't lost in the past.

But why was she up so early?

The kitchen was a mess.  Ingredients were haphazardly strewn about the table; bowls and mixing utensils scattered among them.  Kate's back was to the door, and she was stirring something.  She was also, John noted with some amusement, humming to herself.

John watched silently at the door.  She didn't notice him until she had finished mixing the ingredients.  The stove was to her left, and she'd have to turn to use it.  When she did, she jumped and stared.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked after a moment's pause.

"Dreams again."  She looked like she had been caught with her hand in the cooki jar.  Her discomfort was plainly evident on her face.  Something about that look was endearing.  John smiled suspiciously.  "What are you doing up so early?"

She blinked and turned back to the stove.  "Cooking."

There was a black pan already on the stove; she poured some of the batter onto the pan and watched it sizzle.

"Why?"

His question seemed to remind her of her reason, and all shock shoved aside, she ushered him out of the kitchen.  "No, no, no, you're not supposed to be awake yet.  You need your sleep.  Go back to bed."

He stopped and caught her in front of him.  His hands were on her arms, and she was looking up at him.  Suddenly the hallway was warm and John couldn't remember what he had been about to say.

"I… uh… we should… um…"

Now Kate was amused, but the only sign was a small smile dancing daintily at the corner of her mouth.

Suddenly John felt like a confused teenage boy, and he remembered –

The other couple were already liplocked, but he and Kate just sat on a couch staring awkwardly at each other.

And then he saw the HK's coming after her.  He could hear her screaming.

"No."  He shook his head and backed away.  "No."

Disappointment.  Her eyes glimmered with disappointment and confusion.

"We can't do this."

There was hurt in her voice, though she tried to sound neutral.  "Do what?"

He nodded to her.  "This.  Us."

She was quiet, and he turned to leave.

"Why not?"

For some reason, he remembered the look she had given him when the Terminator had told her she was his future spouse.  "You're a mess!"

"What do you care?" he asked.  "I'm a mess."  His voice was full of sarcastic irony.  She hated him like this, and he knew it.

"Fine, then!" she yelled after him. She paused.  "Don't ever let anything happen, then.  Don't pretend you care."

"I do care!" He whirled around to face her.  His voice cracked a little.  "I do care.  About saving the human race.  I can't – get distracted.  We can't be like this.  It could… it could jeopardize everything."

"You're not the only one who worries, John."

He stared.  Her face was pink and her eyes were fierce.  "What?"

"I worry about you, too," she said.  She relaxed a little; her arms dropped to her sides.  "I dream, too.  And I – I wake up in the middle of the night – " her speech broke a little; she was sobbing.  "I see you laying there… shaking.  And you're… untouchable.  I don't… I can't wake you up.  I can't save you from your nightmares.  You won't even let me in when you're awake." She made a step towards him.  "I can't – I can't sleep with you like that."

"Kate, you don't have to – "

"But I do, John!" she yelled.  "I do!"  She covered her eyes with her hand; she wiped her tears away, but they still fell silently down her cheek.  "God, John.  You're so much to worry about.  You're so hard to read.  One minute you're – you're the cocky, sarcastic school boy.  And the next you're a – you're the 'Leader of the World Wide Resistance'.  A closed book.  You're untouchable, and I can't…"

"I have to be!" he interrupted.  "There won't be time for me to goof around.  I have a lot to deal with and it's – "

"Tough shit, John!" she spat, her eyes again ablaze.  She took a deep breath and crossed her arms.  "You don't have to be strong for me.  I already believe in you."

"Well I don't.  I – " He stopped and sniffed the air.  "Is something burning?"

Kate's eyes widened, and she ran back into the kitchen shouting, "The pancake!"

He followed her back into the kitchen and entered just as she put the fire out.  A crisp black pancake smoked on the pan.  The stove was off now, and Kate had slumped into a chair.  Her face was buried in her arms, and her back was shaking.  Intuition told John to sit down next to her.  "Kate?" he asked tentatively.  "Kate?"

Wiping her eyes again, she looked up wearily.  "What?"

His eyes darted around nervously.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"  She rested her head against her palm.  His eyes searched hers.  "It's just… I… I made you breakfast.  At least I meant to.  But now it's ruined, and – the pancake was burned – and you – you won't – "

For some reason, this touched him in a way he could not explain.  No one had ever made him breakfast before – well, nothing this nice.  His foster parents didn't count.  But that was silly, being happy over breakfast.  Still, he couldn't help but smile.

"You made breakfast?  For me?"

She sighed.  "I meant to.  But it came out all wrong.  You – I was going to surprise you, but – you woke up and then we were arguing, and now it's burnt…" She continued ranting, but John didn't really hear what she was saying.

"Why?"

She stared at him like he was crazy for asking.

"I wanted to do something nice.  You deserve it."

"No I – "

"You do."

They sat there for a moment and just stared.  Then John's hand was on her cheek, wiping away her tears, and Kate was holding his other hand.  And then she was leaning in, and her lips brushed his.  There was a spark there; a tease of passion, and suddenly he was in Kripke's basement again, only this time it was something more powerful, more binding.

When they parted, Kate was staring at him again.

"I'm here for you, John.  I'm here."

He smiled and she squeezed his hand.  "I know."  His eyes closed and they leaned against each other.  Then John's stomach growled.

"Hey… about that breakfast…"