Author's Note: Wow guys, sorry about the wait. The cold that I thought I'd beaten back came back with a fury and knocked me flat the last day or so. All I've been able to do really is sleep and be miserable. Feeling a little better, though, so I'll try to make it up to you.
OOOOOOOO
For someone who was as smart as Janet Fraiser knew he was, Ian was about as worthless in the kitchen as anyone she'd ever met – and she'd seen a lot in her time. Part of it was probably the fact that his hand was killing him, she knew, but all she'd been able to allow him to do was make coffee without feeling the need to supervise him step by step. Andrew at least had been able to help her mix up the pancakes (she'd found mix in the cupboard, and had briefly wondered why the guys hadn't made themselves pancakes the night before – until she watched as Andrew sliced his hand trying to cut through a block of frozen bacon they'd found in the deep freezer.
"If you thaw it, it's easier to cut," she'd told him, cleaning the wound on his hand and deciding it didn't need stitches.
"If I thaw it, it's slimy," Andrew said. "I thought I'd probably cut myself."
"And this is better how?"
He'd taken the sarcasm a lot better than Ian would have – being a far better natured person than the cadet was – and had willingly switched over to mixing the pancakes and leaving slicing the bacon to her, while Ian promptly dropped the coffee that he was trying to open, spilling grounds all over the hardwood floor.
"Mother fuc-"
He bit back the curse at the last possible second, but couldn't control his temper quick enough as he lashed out with his foot, kicking the offending can against the bottom of the stove with a loud clang.
Janet tossed him a look, and he scowled, but mumbled an apology, and reached down with his unbandaged hand and picked up the coffee can – which had enough grounds left in it to make a couple pots, although the floor itself had far, far more than that.
Pancake batter joined it a moment later when Andrew, distracted by Ian, lost his grip on the bowl and the stirring of the spoon caused the centrifugal force to spin the glass bowl right off the counter, crashing to the floor and breaking, half-mixed batter and glass going everywhere.
"That's it."
Both young men looked at Janet with varying degrees of guiltiness, and she brandished the knife she was holding.
"Get out of the kitchen. Both of you. I'll call you when breakfast is ready.
"I can help-" Ian started to say, but Janet shook her head.
"You're more hindrance than help right now, Ian. Go and watch TV or something. Anything."
Ian scowled, but Janet ignored the look and shooed Andrew away as well, the teenager trying to start cleaning up the pancake mess he'd made.
"Andrew, get away from that before you cut yourself again. I-"
"I made the mess, Doctor Fraiser," he protested. "I should clean –"
"I'll take care of it. Go."
Shaking her head, she watched as both of them left the kitchen, and then turned back to the mess. She didn't know if Andrew was a genius or not, but she knew he was bright, and Ian, of course, was off the chart when it came to intelligence. How could they be so worthless in the kitchen?
OOOOOOOO
It was less than half an hour later when the smell of frying bacon started permeating the air, causing Ian and Andrew to both gravitate back towards the kitchen. Despite having been exiled from that room, they were both hungry enough to risk peeking their heads in the door to see how much longer it would be, and both were promptly told not to set foot into the room.
Before Ian could say anything – probably argue, Andrew decided – the phone rang, drawing their attention off food for a moment. Andrew answered it.
"Hello?"
"Andrew?"
"Yeah?"
"This is Cassie Fraiser. Is my mom there?"
"Yeah, hold on."
Still holding the phone, he walked to the kitchen door.
"Doctor Fraiser? It's Cassie…"
Janet was in the middle of flipping pancakes, and turned towards the door, although she didn't leave the griddle.
"Ask her if she's all right…"
"I could flip those for you if you want to talk-" he was cut off with a glare that had frozen far braver men than himself, and he raised the phone to his ear. "She wants to know if you're all right…"
"Tell her I'm fine, I was just wondering when she was going to be home."
"She just wants to know when you're going to be home," he passed on. He answered it himself, though. "We're not sure when they'll have the road cleared, but it shouldn't take all that long if they've started. A few hours – maybe more."
There was a pause.
"Can I talk to Ian?"
Andrew rolled his eyes, but handed the phone over to Ian, who had been hovering close by once he'd heard who was on the phone.
"She wants to talk to you."
Ian took the phone from him and promptly disappeared into the living room, while Andrew watched Janet through the doorway of the kitchen.
"You're sure there's nothing I can do to help?"
Janet hesitated. There was canned orange juice that could be opened, but without the can opener that meant using a knife, and Andrew had already proven himself inept with sharp objects. She didn't need to test fate any further by giving him a job that required him to use another one.
"Why don't you set the table?"
"Okay."
That was something he could do – and when Ian finished talking to Cass, he could help, if there was anything left to do by then.
