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On her twenty-sixth birthday, Nomi jerks awake to the shrill sound of the smoke alarm and to Amanita’s panicked cursing as her girlfriend tries to fan the smoke away with a towel.
She grins into her pillow for a moment, before the smell hits her and she almost gags.
Groaning, she sits up. “Amanita? What are you doing?” she calls out, wrinkling her nose at the smell. “I thought we’d agreed on no more cooking,” she adds with a whine.
She hears Amanita curse again before her head pops into their bedroom with a sheepish smile.
She’s carrying a breakfast tray and Nomi’s heart instantly melts in her chest.
“Surprise?” Amanita calls out sheepishly. “Sorry about the —” she gestures toward the kitchen with a wince “— everything, you weren’t meant to wake up.”
Nomi’s heart swells. “It’s fine,” she says, shaking her head fondly. “God knows I’ve set it off often enough.”
“That’s true,” Amanita replies. Her initial snort of amusement turns into an actual burst of laughter when Nomi shoots her a betrayed look, and Nomi laughs back.
“Anyway,” Amanita continues, setting the tray on the edge of the bed and carefully crawling around it until she’s reached Nomi, “I’ve made you breakfast. Happy birthday, love,” she says, leaning in to press a kiss to Nomi’s smiling lips.
Nomi hums happily as she pulls back. “Thank you. I love you too.”
She leers a little — because she can and because it makes Amanita laugh — as Amanita bends over to drag the tray closer, but she grins as they settle against the headboard.
“I made pancakes,” Amanita says proudly as she hands Nomi a plate and nods to the gently fuming pile of pancakes. This close, they smell amazing, and Nomi’s eyes widen in delighted surprise.
“Wow,” she says.
Amanita laughs. “Don’t be too impressed, I still burned the toast.”
And indeed, the handful of pieces of toast on the tray are very, very dark, and Nomi can tell just where the burnt bits were scraped off.
They look awful, and Nomi’s sure they’ll taste barely better, but she can’t help but grin back helplessly. Her eyes sting.
Immediately, Amanita’s face softens and she pulls her into a hug. “Oh no, love, what is it? Are you okay?”
Nomi laughs tearfully. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just… This is so nice of you.”
She feels Amanita press a kiss on her forehead, and her throat tightens.
“You deserve all of the nice things, Nomi.” She holds on for a little while longer before leaning away, her face still impossibly soft and loving. “We should eat though, or the food’ll get cold.”
With a sigh that’s only half-feigned, Nomi follows her and holds out her plate. She can never really refuse Amanita anything — not even, as it turns out, slightly undercooked pancakes and lightly burnt toast.
Amanita made them for her — for that reason alone, they’re the best thing she’s ever eaten.
Besides, she reflects as she drinks the perfectly pressed orange juice, covered in enough chocolate or jam, how cooked they are barely matters.