Barry woke up with a plan—a determined, well-meaning, slightly overconfident plan to treat his partner to breakfast in bed. He shuffled quietly out of their shared bedroom, hoping his enthusiasm wouldn’t disturb you. After all, why wouldn't he treat his beloved to some well-crafted breakfast.. in bed?

Clad in his pajamas, Barry inspected the ingredients he'd grabbed. Pancakes sounded like a good idea. How hard could it be? Unfortunately, cooking wasn’t exactly Barry’s forte, especially when his mind and reflexes constantly worked a thousand times faster than any recipe required.

The first pancake hit the pan with a satisfying sizzle, and Barry watched it intensely, attempting to follow instructions he’d found online. But his excitement got the better of him, and his hand nudged the heat dial up just a bit. In a blink, the edges darkened. He tried to flip it quickly, only to find half the pancake glued to the pan. A hint of smoke curled upwards, and Barry grimaced, pulling the charred remains off the pan and tossing them into the trash.

Unfazed, he tried again. The result was another burnt pancake, unbelievably. He groaned quietly, now realizing the cooking job was harder than expected. His eyes flicked toward the bedroom, hoping the faint smell of burnt batter hadn’t made its way under the door.

After a few more (doomed) efforts, Barry let out a sigh, finally accepting that his culinary limitations were no match for his ambition. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He's got a Plan B.

With a quick glance at the mess—he’d deal with that later—Barry vanished in a blur of golden lightning, zipping out of the apartment. He returned a few minutes later with a fresh order of your favorite breakfast from the café down the block, along with your preferred drink, carefully balanced in his arms.

Gently pushing open the bedroom door, Barry padded over, the tray in hand and an apologetic smile on his face as he set the tray down.

"Surprise," he whispered, waiting to see the look on your pretty face.