Don't Make Me Reply In All Caps (Boyxboy)

Deep-Pan Pancakes

Joe's POV

I turned over in bed, tugging the covers over my head. Ugh, mornings.

A sweet smell filled my nose and I fully awakened, sitting up.

What is that? Coffee? And what else...

Pancakes?

I started imagining pancakes and coffee at the table, when I felt like a ton of bricks were dropped on me.

Wait, who's cooking?

Oh god, I jumped out of bed and ran out the door, down the stairs and coming to a screeching halt at the kitchen.

"Caspar!"

Caspar turned around, chef hat and apron, spatula in hand.

He smirked, "Yeah?"

I stood there dumbfounded before taking quick strides over to the stove.

"What're you doing?"

"Making pancakes," He said blankly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh,"

I looked at the stove, there they were, bubbling and bouncing in all it's glory.

"How?"

"I know how to cook Joe."

"Are you sure? Are these deep pan pancakes or something? A reincarnation of your deep pan pizza?"

"Hahaha, very funny Joe," He said sarcastically.

"Why'd you make this?"

"Is it illegal to make breakfast for yourself and your roommate?"

"If it's poisoned, then yes."

"It's not poisoned! Get out me kitchen!"

He shooed me away, and when I didn't move he just started pushing me out of the kitchen.

"This is my kitchen!"

"Our kitchen Joe."

"Bu-"

"Your not using it, so boohoo on you."

He poked me with his spatula, and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Well, can I at least help?"

"Sure, you can be my little bitch."

"There's a fine line between being polite and being someone's bitch."

He pinched my cheeks, "Whatever you say, compadré."

Since when does he know Spanish?

I followed him into the kitchen before nearly being stabbed by Caspar's spatula.

"Tut tut tut, this simply won't do," He said dramatically.

"What do you mean?"

"You need an apron and a chef hat, but since I'm the chef you won't need one."

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"They're your pajamas silly goose! I'm at least in my normal attire for this wonderful breakfast!" He squealed in a high pitched voice.

I looked down, I'm in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants too! What the hell?

"But you're wearing pajamas too," I say indignantly.

"They're not pajamas because I didn't sleep in them, now quit your whining and get into gear! We ride at dawn!"

I wish I could ride-