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Fires? Lit.
Pan? Oiled.
Ingredients? Fresh as hell, baby.
He was in the zone.
“Taako.”
He’d start simple. An egg flew through the air, tossed from one slender hand to the other with practiced ease - another swift movement saw it cracked against the marble countertop. A perfect center split. Then, with a final sweep of the hand, the yolk and whites cascaded in one fluid motion into the sizzling pan below to form a flawless circle. Not even a minute later, two others were frying alongside it, the scent of breakfast filling the air.
Some would call it perfectionism. Most would call it overdramatic. Taako? Taako called it art.
“Taaaaako.”
A flick of the wrist, and yet another pan came to rest above a now-lit fire. Should he make pancakes? Was the time right for pancakes? A stupid question to ask. It was always time for pancakes. More ingredients flew from the shelves around him, and a plastic jug came to rest in his hands. Milk, flour, eggs, sugar, and syrup for taste.
“I can hear you ignoring me!”
Mixing was slightly more difficult with hands that wouldn’t stop trembling, but he was a professional, and soon enough there was batter lining the frying pan floating beside him. Another heavenly smell drifted upwards, and he took a long breath in, both to appreciate the moon air and to attempt to steady his hammering heartbeat.
No luck. It still felt like a bird was trying to escape his chest. But at least he’d created a bomb-ass sensual experience.
“Taako!”
Now began the micro-management. Sure, he could feel his brain slowly scrambling alongside the eggs and batter, but that had never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn’t now. Not when it mattered. He shuffled a pan once, twice, watching the forming delicacy fly through the air in a perfect flip. In the front of his mind, he heard crowds cheering. In the back, he heard the silence of forty dead souls. He shook his head and chased away the thoughts - there were things to do. For example, the eggs were done.
“Fine. At least I’m being an adult about this! But I meant it. What I said. Just, think about that? Please?”
He twisted his hand, sliding two of the three eggs onto one plate and the spare onto another. Then, a click of his fingers sent it across the room into the sink. He’d deal with that later. Probably. Maybe. If he could find the strength to. Which he wouldn’t. So that settled that, then?
“Because- Because I do, Taako. It’s scary and it’s weird and- I feel like I’ve been here before. And it feels right.”
A pancake joined the eggs. Silence filled his chamber, with only the low roar of the conjured flames and the crackling of heated oil brave enough to break the hush that had descended. Time ticked on, and a few more pancakes appeared on the plates, until the batter was spent and the remaining dishes sent away. Finally, he allowed himself a moment of rest, letting his hands splay on the cool marble. His legs nearly gave way, but he held himself steady. This was no time for doubts, or second-guessing himself like he'd done so many times in the past. Now was the time for action.
“...Taako?”
He turned, grabbing a plate in each hand, to finally face Magnus.
Magnus, with tousled hair and tear-stained cheeks, stared back.
Here, he almost looked small, sat on the breakfast bar of Taako’s kitchen in only an undershirt and pants, wiping tears away from his scarred face. Tears he’d caused. Another long few seconds passed, until his eyes flicked from the floor, to the pancakes, and then to Taako himself. And he -
smiled. Softly, and with all the warmth of the sun breaking a storm, Magnus Burnsides smiled at him like he hadn’t just spent the past twenty minutes ignoring him to make breakfast.
Something inside of Taako threatened to break.
He took another shaky breath in, held it, breathed out again, praying to Gods he didn’t believe in to give him courage. Meeting Magnus’ even stare was, perhaps, the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and he felt his heart skip at least three beats. Then, an odd sense of calm washed over him. In his chest, the rhythm slowed. In his head, the fires died down. Both were still louder than he would’ve liked, but stood holding two plates of breakfast and looking into Magnus’ eyes, he felt a sensation of clarity stronger than any drug or spell he’d tried before. He opened his mouth to speak, but no noise came out, and he took a moment to swallow hard before he tried again.
“C’mon, big guy. Eat first, talk later.”
Sliding both plates onto the table was easy. Hopping onto the stool beside Magnus was, too. Eating was a chore, but it always was, and Magnus seemed more than content with his offerings - he’d take breaks from eating just to compliment the food, which was kind-of ridiculous, because it was quite literally just fried eggs and pancakes. Really, Magnus was ridiculous. Everything about this situation was ridiculous.
“Seriously, Taako, I’ve had breakfast from just about every inn in Faerun, and no one’s ever been able to match your pancakes! And eggs! It’s like you know exactly how I have them!”
I do, is what he meant to say. I don't know how, but I do.
“I think I -- love you too.” is what came out instead.
He froze, fork suspended halfway to his mouth. The trembling washed over him again, but he forced himself to be still, lowering his hand back to the table and dropping the fork onto the plate. Silence. No response. Fists clenched tight against his thighs beneath the table, he turned to look at Magnus, who was…
Eating, still. But smiling, too, in a way Taako had seen almost hundreds of times before. It was familiar, and that made his heart ache, because it was the smile he wore alongside bruises and bloodstains. It was the smile of a man who had just won a long, hard battle.
Which, in a way, Taako supposed he had.
Then, besides him, Magnus was laughing, a deep and joyful sound that compelled him to join him. There they sat, dissolving into giggles every now and then, until their plates were empty. It was then, as Taako turned to send them to the sink, that Magnus caught his wrist in his own hand. It was warm.
“You know, you didn’t have to make me breakfast just to say that, Taako.”
He didn’t have a response for that. What was there to say? He knew that, fundamentally, it was not a requirement to make someone breakfast before you told them you loved them. Magnus hadn’t made him jack shit. Not that he minded - Magnus also couldn’t really cook to save his life, though he was getting better with Taako’s lessons and his brain had gotten off track and Magnus must have seen it happen, because he didn’t have to think of a response anymore, because there was now a mouth on his own.
And Gods, did kissing Magnus feel like coming home, pancake-breath and all.