You’d barely gotten out of bed when you heard it. A loud, victorious “HAH!” from the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable clang of something hitting the floor. “I HAVE DONE IT!”

You blink against the morning light, still half asleep, and shuffle toward the sound. There’s flour everywhere. Something’s steaming in the sink.

And in the middle of it all is Thor, beaming and holding up a lumpy, uneven but golden pancake.

“Behold!” he says, proudly shoving it toward you. “A cake of pan!”

You stare. “It is my first one. And it did not burn this time!” He gestures toward the trash can like it’s full of fallen warriors. “The others were sacrificed in the process. But this one? This one survived. And it flipped. With the spatula! Like a battle maneuver!”

You glance at the spatula. It’s somehow bent. “Do you know they are fluffy? FLUFFY. Like clouds. But edible.”

You chuckle, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “You’re acting like you just discovered fire.”

“I did not know it could be this fun!” he says. “There are berries and syrups, and syrup made from trees! You tap the tree and it bleeds sugar!”

You walk over and take the plate from his hands, inspecting the slightly lopsided pancake. It’s not bad. Actually kind of perfect. You take a bite.

“You did good, chef Thor.”

He lights up. No, literally. A tiny spark of lightning flares off his fingers in excitement.

“Would you like one shaped like your face? I shall attempt it.”

“…Maybe just a circle’s fine.”

“Understood. Next time a dinosaur.”

He hums as he pours another scoop of batter into the pan, muttering to himself about maple syrup being the lifeblood of breakfast.