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Armand was determined to make Daniel breakfast. He’d overheard a woman chatting to a friend about how her husband had woken her up with breakfast in bed for their anniversary; they seemed to deem it a very romantic gesture, so Armand decided to try it. Plus Daniel had mentioned how he’d been craving a stuffed omelette—the perfect sign to do it.
That’s how Armand ended up standing in Daniel’s kitchen with a bag of ingredients from the supermarket in one hand and a cookbook he’d acquired in the other. It began so well, simply chopping up onions, peppers and mushrooms. Then he started cooking the little diced pieces of bacon in a pan, setting the heat as high as it could go, so that he would finish before Daniel woke up. Sure the book said medium heat, but Armand wanted it done in a hurry. After a couple of minutes, he added the ingredients he’d cut up. While that cooked, he moved onto the omelette, which is where the issues began. The first time he tried to crack the egg was too hard, splattering all over the bowl. Then the second time was still too hard, crumbling apart in his hands. His fourth time was both too soft and then too hard. His fifth time he dropped an egg from how slimy his hands had become. He was getting more and more frustrated. With only three eggs left, he cautiously tapped them, finally managing to not completely destroy them, though some shards of egg shell did fall into the mixture.
Proud to have finished that task, he turned and noticed smoke. He’d been so distracted by the eggs that he’d forgotten the other ingredients cooking, which were now all charred and burnt. Quickly, he grabbed the pan and moved it off the hot stove, but as he did a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP came out of nowhere.
Daniel woke up to the smell of burning. Confused, disorientated and half-asleep he sat up, then BEEP BEEP BEEP —his fire alarm started blaring painfully loud. Groaning, he shuffled out of his bedroom to investigate exactly what the hell was going on. What he found was Armand standing at the stove, scraping a pan with a spatula. All that was in the pan was a charred, indistinguishable mess.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse and groggy from sleep.
Armand whipped around and attempted to hide the burning meal behind him, “Just making you some breakfast, my love.” He smiled sweetly, “Go back to bed, it’ll be ready in a moment.”
“Smells more like you’re burning down my kitchen…”
Dismissively, Armand replied, “I made a slight miscalculation. No need to worry.”
“Uh-huh,” Daniel said, unimpressed, “What are you even making?”
“You mentioned craving a stuffed omelette the other day, so I wanted to surprise you with one.” That was when Daniel noticed the bowl of eggs on his kitchen counter as well as the oozing dripping eggs that had not gotten into the bowl.
He responded, facepalming, “Well I appreciate the thought, babe, but I really like this apartment. Maybe just order one next time.”
“Ordering one defeats the purpose,” Armand argued, “I’d heard it is an act of love to cook for your companion.”
“Yeah,” Daniel noticed Armand’s hands dripping with egg and grabbed a dishtowel, “If you know how to cook.”
Armand watched Daniel quietly, as he wiped Armand’s hands for him. His face looked so sad and defeated, Daniel couldn’t stand it. “You haven’t fucked up the omelette yet so why don’t I help you make it.”
The vampire’s face brightened, “Yes, be my teacher.”
Daniel grabbed another, slightly smaller pan from out of his cupboard, rather than trying to clean and salvage the old one. Then he instructed Armand on what to do, though he was mostly just relaying what the cookbook said. In the end it turned out well, especially with Armand watching him eat it with a gleaming smile on his face.
And that was how the vampire Armand learned how to make an omelette.