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He woke up before you on your birthday. But then again, that wasn’t an unusual occurrence – you often stayed up late anyway, not coming to bed until late in the night. And each time he would wake up just barely, feeling your arms slip about him in a comforting hold that he loved to feel. With a lazy kiss, he murmured a good night in response and fell back asleep.
But that was last night, and this was the morning of your birthday. Conveniently on a Friday, he didn’t feel that bad about taking the morning off – but he was sure Jaehee would be calling him later to brief him on the meetings as he went to work to check in. The dinner date, then, would prevent him from staying too late at work in favor of spending it with you.
Jumin slid out of your light grasp as delicately as he was able, letting your arm fall against the soft sheets. At the sound of a hum, he thought you were waking up, instantly tensing in case you caught him in the act of sneaking out. However, you simply just turned over slightly, nuzzling deeper into the covers. With a sigh of relief, he moved to the dresser, quiet as a mouse while he pulled the drawers out and took out a casual dress shirt and pants, slipping into them as he cast glances back at you, hoping that you wouldn’t awaken. His plan banked on you not coming into the kitchen until later. His silent movements took him out of the bedroom, not even daring to let the door click shut, lest that noise wake you up as well. He swore you shifted on whether you were a heavy sleeper or a light sleeper, simply depending on how your body felt that day.
With a laugh at that thought, he strode into the kitchen, his steps getting louder as he got further form the room and into the main area of the penthouse, looking out his windows as the sky turned from a cool purple to blue. With a deep breath, he moved into the kitchen, quietly preparing himself for the task at hand.
All week, he had been asking the chef to help him learn this finer art of cooking. It was a difficult time in the making, but he had the hang of it by Thursday, as all good things came with practice. And practice he had – not wanting to think about the vast number of burned and failed attempts that currently sat in the trash compactor.
First, he turned on the coffee machine. You needed that every morning like clockwork, and he knew the process well-enough since you asked him to make it if you were too lazy to get out of bed right away. His motions were automatic, pouring in the proper amount and letting it begin to drip before moving on to the second – and far harder – part.
Jumin quietly cursed himself about the fact he had to use the pre-combined mix, thinking it less authentic. The garish yellow of the box with a mocking brand name was almost offensive, but he shoved the feeling as he collected it along with the sugar, vanilla, and strawberries. Placing everything on the counter, he poked the core of the strawberries out with a straw.
Who even thought of this trick? he mused, instantly having his answer. Chefs or housewives with too much time on their hands. But that didn’t mean it was any less efficient as he sliced the fruits in half, putting them into a bowl and mixing a quarter cup of sugar in with them.
Setting that aside, Jumin moved onto the next part of the recipe. He was happy that you hadn’t questioned the griddle staying out last night, in favor of making his job a little easier this morning. He lightly coated it with cooking spray before turning on the heat, letting it get to temperature as he found a glass mixing bowl and got the milk and eggs out of the fridge.
“Three cups of this… then two tablespoons of sugar…” Cautiously measuring the right amounts, he recited the recipe to himself as he worked methodically, not wanting to mess a single part of it up. You would know if such a basic recipe had been ruined; it wasn’t that hard to tell. With an easy hand, he cracked the eggs and then poured the milk in, stirring to combine it all together before giving the entire mixture just a tiny touch of vanilla for the flavor and scent.
So far, so good. Looking next to the griddle, he took a shaky breath for his hardest part. Pouring the batter on and not letting it splatter everywhere. Lifting the quarter measuring cup into his hand again, he scooped out a cupful of it and tilted his hand at a gentle incline, letting it slide out onto the surface with a sizzle. Relieved that it worked, he moved on to do three more, eyes flicking to the clock over the stove to make sure that he did it for the precise amount of time. The chef’s words rang in his ears as well – Cook until the edges are dry! Flip, then they will soon be golden. He had no idea exactly what there was to look for, only assuming that clearly, chefs and bakers had better eyes for these sorts of things than he did. Waiting patiently, he flipped them after a couple minutes, releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw they were done cooking. Another few minutes later and a quick flip to check both sides… they were done.
Jumin carefully slid each pancake onto the plate, stacking them haphazardly. Shutting off the griddle again, he moved to the fridge to get the whipped cream out, giving it a shake as he moved back. With a fond smile, he thought of how you often covered your waffles or pancakes with whipped cream, heavily coating it to the point he swore there was more of the stuff than the pancakes.
One of the many things about you I love, he thought with an affectionate sigh, closing the can and getting a few strawberries to adorn the stack and give it the finishes touches. With a step back, he decided he was, at least, satisfied with his work, finding a tray to place it on before putting silverware next to it and getting a cup to pour the coffee into. With a deep breath, he eased the tray into the air, holding it tightly with both hands as he crossed the apartment again to your bedroom.
“Darling…” He eased the door open with an elbow and glanced inside, sliding through the opening as he saw you moan at the idea of waking up. He gave a sigh and balanced the tray on his forearm as he moved to open the curtain, swinging it aside with a flourish. You recoiled at the light, curling up underneath your blankets and shoving your face into the pillow. Jumin gave a slight laugh at the sight, moving to the edge of the bed and settling down, sliding the tray a little ways forward on the bed. It grazed your toes and you pulled away from the sensation.
“You should be waking up soon,” he said plainly, his voice soft. “I’ve made you something. I’ll make you more too, if you want.”
With another sigh, you sat up on your elbows, glancing over your shoulder at him. His smile grew at seeing your face, still half-asleep as you met his gaze.
“Good morning.” He pushed the tray again, letting go of it to focus solely on you.
“Morning,” you replied, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What’s up?”
“I made you strawberry pancakes. You had said you wanted them for your birthday.”
“I did?” Jumin couldn’t help but grin ever further as he watched the gears in your head begin to wind after sleeping in.
“You did, come on, wake up…” Jumin reached a hand out and began to run his fingers across your exposed feet, but you only gave him a stare, not reacting. In response, he crawled further on the bed, careful of the tray, and his hands aimed for your sides.
“No no no!” Your screaming reaction as you scooted away from him caused him to laugh, stopping short and placing his hands on either side of your hips, inclining his head as his chuckles faded to silence.
“You awake now?”
“Yes, absolutely.” You gave a pout as he returned your look with his own gentle gaze, leaning further forward to kiss you tenderly, smiling into it.
“Happy birthday, dear.”