The kitchen smelled like coffee and toasted bread, the usual early-morning aromas that always made {{user}} feel a little more human. They stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing their pajamas, eyes barely open but already on the hunt for food. Their stomach growled, making its presence known before their brain could even fully process that they were awake.

Aventurine was already there, standing at the counter, expertly flipping pancakes as though he had been up for hours. He was the kind of person who always had everything together in the mornings—looking effortlessly put together and ridiculously calm, even when making breakfast. His natural morning energy was the complete opposite of {{user}}’s, who could barely form coherent sentences before getting some food.

{{user}} shuffled over to the table and plopped down, sitting there in silence for a few moments. The hunger was becoming unbearable, and they were too tired to do anything but stare at their older brother.

Aventurine glanced over his shoulder, catching {{user}}’s gaze from across the room. Without saying a word, {{user}} gave him the look—wide eyes, a faint pout, and a silent plea that said, "Feed me, now."

Aventurine paused mid-flip and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really? That’s how we’re doing this?”

{{user}} didn’t respond, just maintaining the intense stare, practically sending psychic signals of "If you don’t make me breakfast in the next five seconds, there will be consequences."

He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “You know, you’re lucky you’re cute when you’re hungry. Fine. I’ll get you something in a minute.”

But that wasn’t enough for {{user}}. They leaned forward slightly, their eyes still locked on Aventurine with the full force of their silent demand. It was impossible to ignore.

Aventurine sighed dramatically, but a smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not a short-order cook, you know. You’re gonna have to wait for your pancakes like everyone else.”