Mistake

Always

{A/N

Sooooooo... Hello again? It's been WAY too long, and this is much over due. I know, I know. Throw all the tomatoes at me. I'm sorry!

But now we're back! And hopefully back in action. Hope this chappy makes up for my ten year break lmao}

Something disturbed Mitch's sleep.

The heavy certain of slumber was drawn back, leaving him open and vulnerable to consciousness, dreams fading into reality. He blinked- once, twice, three times- to clear away the filmy haze of sleep from his dark, auburn eyes. It took seconds for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, he noticed it was still night.

It was dark in the room, and he peeked through the drapes to find that not even the promise of a sunrise any time soon was evident. He languidly rolled his head to focus his still-sleepy eyes on the electronic clock on his bedside table, eyebrows furrowing as he saw that it had just breached half-past four in the morning.

He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, wondering what had woken him this time. He was such a light sleeper that the slight rustle of his blinds caused by his cat could startle him awake, but he wasn't at his home. He was at Scott's home, and there was no cat, was no blinds.

He listened, and just when he thought it was absolutely nothing, he heard it.

The small, short clank of what sounded to be pots and pans, metal maybe. His heart rate sped up fast, thinking someone had broken in, and he was about to freak out before he smelled it.

The light, buttery smell of Scott's pancakes. It was such a distinct smell, he could recognize it from a mile away. He didn't know anyone that made pancakes as good as him, that smelled as good as they did. He knew instantly that it was no burglar, just crazy Scott.

God, who was he? Even Mitch, an early riser, was not about to be awake and cooking before five. Scott must be mental. It was a Saturday and he was up before the whole neighborhood, Mitch assumed. Who else would possibly be awake?

But before he could get annoyed, he felt his stomach rumble, deep and letting him know now was not the time to he angry, it was time to go down and feast on the delicious breakfast Scott was cooking.

Mitch slowly let his limbs reconnect with his brain, stretching delightfully and letting himself regain feeling again. Once he was awake, kind of, he draped his heavy legs over the side of the bed, the bare soles of his feet soaking up the cold from the floor and causing him to jump up and wince. He slowly got used to it and tiptoed to the door, the smell becoming stronger and his hunger becoming more apparent, egging him on even further.

As he slipped the door open, and carefully shut it behind him, he was all but tired. It smelled good. He slowly made his way down the steps, carefully as possible in attempt to let everyone one else in the house catch up on sleep.

He tentatively peeked his head around the corner of the doorway, eyes lurking around until he spotted Scott. The tall man was hard at work over the stove, ingredients of all shapes and sizes haphazardly strewn across the kitchen as the wonderful smell wafted through the room. Scott's back was to Mitch, too engrossed with his cooking to even realized anyone else but himself was awake. But that was okay. It was amusing to Mitch. Usually Scott was so aware of his surroundings, so focused and intent on seemingly everything, but now he was so focused on one thing that he didn't even notice Mitch walking in and peeking over his shoulder.