“Happy Pancake Daaay!”
Villanelle’s singsong voice rouses Eve from the light sleep that she has been drifting in and out of since Villanelle stirred and got out of bed earlier. Villanelle is the early riser in their relationship and exactly what she does when she gets up first - working out, online shopping, who knows? - Eve decides not to question because she is absolutely not a morning person and she treasures every second of sleep that she can get without Villanelle wriggling in the bed next to her.
As Eve rolls onto her back and rubs her sleepy eyes, the mattress dips beside her as Villanelle sits down on the bed, bearing a tray of breakfast food.
“Wait, you made pancakes?” Eve asks, in her half-asleep state only just registering what Villanelle proclaimed when she entered the bedroom.
Eve plumps up the pillows behind her head and manoeuvres into a seated position to inspect the contents of the tray. Alongside the plate of pancakes, Villanelle seems to have brought half the kitchen in with her - a bowl of berries and sliced fruit, a squeeze-bottle of syrup, a can of whipped cream, and even some lemon wedges.
“Duh,” replies Villanelle, shuffling backwards and setting the tray down in the space between them on the bed. “Because it’s Pancake Day.”
Eve eyes the tray cautiously. The pancakes look surprisingly good - surprising, because Eve will be haunted for the rest of her life by Villanelle’s last attempt at baking, in which a simple tray of cupcakes almost required the attention of the local fire brigade.
“I didn’t know you were religious.”
“What do you mean?” Villanelle asks, with a frown.
“I thought the pancakes were supposed to represent the body of Christ, or something? Isn’t that what Pancake Day means?”
“You’re making that up. Pancake Day isn’t a religious holiday, unless you’re celebrating the God of Breakfast Food. And do you know what the best part of the day is?”
“That you’re allowed to eat pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
Eve doesn’t think that sounds particularly nutritious, but she decides not to mention that because she can see how excited Villanelle is about today. She hesitates, her eyes flitting down to the plate of pancakes, then back up to Villanelle’s optimistic smile.
“Let’s just see what these taste like first.”
Villanelle picks a knife and fork up off the tray, previously hidden beneath the rim of the plate, and passes them across to Eve, as she says, “Please do.”
Eve accepts the cutlery and carefully cuts a sliver off the edge of one of the pancakes, before she lifts it to her mouth.
Well, it might just be the worst pancake Eve has ever eaten.
She can’t let Villanelle know that though. With Villanelle’s eager eyes watching Eve as she chews into the rubbery texture of what probably only constitutes a pancake in looks alone, Eve tries her best not to grimace and instead lets out a forced hum of delight.
“Mmm, delicious,” she says, hoping that Villanelle can’t see through her lies. Eve swallows her mouthful, grateful that she doesn’t gag, and shoots Villanelle a small smile. “Thank you, baby.”
Villanelle beams at this.
“Try it with the fruit,” she says, spooning out a few berries from the bowl onto the top of the pancakes. She puts the spoon down and reaches for the cream, giving the can a quick shake before squirting a generous amount onto the plate. “Go on.”
Eve doesn’t have the heart to turn Villanelle down, nor can she think of a way to avoid having to eat the rest of the food without hurting Villanelle’s feelings after she has gone to so much effort.
The second mouthful is perhaps worse than the first because she knows to expect how awful it will be. Though the fruit and cream is definitely welcome, not even that can mask the texture, which Eve thinks is probably only comparable to actual rubber.
Eve swallows and then nods.
“Let me try,” Villanelle says, snatching the fork out of Eve’s hand before she can even protest, and using it to scoop up an enormous forkful of pancake and cream-covered fruit.
The food barely enters Villanelle’s mouth before she spits it out again, making an overdramatic retching noise as she does.
“You actually like these?”
Eve doesn’t know what to say.
“Well, um … not really.”
“You lied to me?”
“You wanted to spare my feelings?” Villanelle says, her frown softening. She leans over the tray between them and presses a kiss to Eve’s lips. “Baby, that’s so sweet.”
Villanelle moves the tray of pancakes out of the way and then shuffles into the newly vacated space, reaching out to cup Eve’s cheek.
“You don’t have to eat those,” Villanelle murmurs, her fingertips dancing across the sensitive skin just below Eve’s ear. “There are other ways we can celebrate the best holiday of the year.”
Eve perks up at this and asks, “Oh yeah?”
“Uh huh,” Villanelle hums. She peels back the covers and nestles between Eve’s legs, slowly inching Eve’s t-shirt up as she starts to press kisses along Eve’s jaw. “I hear that Pancake Day sex is supposed to be pretty good. I mean, there’s got to be some way that we can use the whipped cream, right?”
Eve lets her head fall back against the pillow as Villanelle’s lips trail lower.
“Okay, I’m interested…”
Villanelle’s hand slides up beneath Eve’s t-shirt and cups her breast, thumb brushing over Eve’s nipple, and the pancakes are far from the front of Eve’s mind now.
“Besides,” Villanelle murmurs into the skin of Eve’s neck, as her other hand dips down and pushes Eve’s thighs further apart. “It’s still only morning. We’ve got plenty of time to make another batch of pancakes later.”
Eve opens her eyes and looks down at Villanelle.
“Wait, I don’t think I agreed to…”
But then Villanelle’s hand dips into Eve’s underwear, and Eve will happily eat a million of Villanelle’s rubbery pancakes if this is the outcome.