saturday mornings are for pancakes // a dream x reader fanfiction

CHAPTER 61: SANTA PANCAKES

DECEMBER 24

"I think my whip cream is melting," I say, swiping my finger along the edge of the pancake to collect said whip cream.

"I told you to wait till it cooled," Nick says, "My Santa pancake is literally better than both of yours."

"That looks absolutely disgusting," George comments from his spot on the bar stool. He wrapped himself in a blanket when we started to make breakfast, and so far he hasn't moved from that position.

We decided to make our Saturday Morning breakfast more festive by turning our pancakes into mini Santas. It seemed like a really good idea at first, but now it's more of a mess.

I grab some chocolate chips for the eyes, placing two right about the strawberry nose. George laughs and the others follow.

I glance up to look at the three of them and my brows furrow. "What?"

Nick's keeling with laughter, and George disappeared into the blanket. I turn to Clay, asking once again what happened.

"Your Santa looks possessed," he explains before letting out a loud laughter.

"It's got like..." Nick takes a breath, "these beady black eyes."

I rub my hands down my face, unsure how to fix it. "It's not that bad."

"It's staring into my soul, y/n," Nick says.

I shake my head and search for my whip cream spoon. They're right, my pancake does look like something you would show kids to ensure they cleaned their rooms before Christmas.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," I lie, "Are you guys done with yours yet?"

Nick and Clay both nod. George holds out his hands, and Clay gets him regular pancakes. Nick rolls his eyes, commenting, "You baby him too much."

"Shut up," Clay mumbles.

We each get a fork and dig into our pancakes. Nick nods in approval while Clay and I pause for a moment.

"Let me try," George says.

"I thought you didn't want any," Nick mocks the way George had originally turned down the Santa Pancake idea.

I slide my plate over for George to take a bite. He chews slowly before his face scrunches. "That's too sweet."

I nod. "I actually agree with George."

Clay shrugs and takes another bite. As he chews, he moves his head from side to side, debating. "I can't tell if I like it or not."

We eat our pancakes in a quiet peace, and I try not to remember that we've spent the past three Saturdays apart for breakfast. I had the microwave pancakes each of those weekends too. I keep forgetting to go to the store back in New York.

When I finish my plate, I lean against the counter. Nick looks up at me, and I laugh.

"You have a bit of whip cream right here." I motion to his entire face with my hand.

Nick wipes his face with his sleeve. "So do you."

"What?" I rub my hand on my face and instinctively turn to Clay. "Is it still there?"

He smiles and taps his own chin. "Right here still."

I wipe it and look for his approval. He shakes his head, then reaches his hand out before stopping himself. "Can I?" he asks.

I stop myself for a second. For a moment, it felt like we were in the past when things between Clay and I were perfect. Now I stare at his hand only inches away from my face and remember I don't want to be like this.