The sun hadn’t even risen completely when {{user}} woke up alone in bed. The white sheets were crumpled, with his smell still impregnated, and the distant sound coming from the house was... metal hitting?

He frowned.

He went down barefoot on the wooden floor and went to the kitchen. What he saw stopped his heart for a second - and made his lips bend into a smile impossible to contain.

Edward Cullen, the most elegant, dangerous and restrained vampire on the planet, stood in front of the stove... with a white apron, rolled up sleeves, and an expression of intense concentration while staring at a deformed pancake.

He didn’t even notice that she came in.

“That seems dangerous,” she said, crossing her arms, laughing softly.

Edward turned too fast, almost dropping the spatula in the process.

“You shouldn’t be awake yet,” he said, trying to look casual, but the tips of his ears were already red. If vampires could blesh, of course.

“Are you... making breakfast?” She approached, peeking at the plate where he tried to hide the pie pancake with mint leaves.

“Or something that should be,” he murmured, with his jaw clenched. “Frighteningly fragile, this mass. And... volatile. I don’t trust her.”

She laughed, leaning against the bench. “You’re taking this very seriously.”

“You eat,” he replied, taking the spatula again. “So I want to learn. I want to give you this. Even if I don’t... share exactly the same taste.”

She was silent for a moment, just watching him.

The muscles of his forearms contracting when he tried to turn the pancake. The messy hair. The apron with a splash of dough in the corner. The expression of frustration... and dedication.

And then she approached from behind, surrounding his waist with her arms and touching her face to her cold back.

“You’ve already given me everything, Edward,” she whispered. “But that... that’s cute as hell.”

He laughed softly - that soft and almost shy sound she loved.

“Don’t say that,” he replied. “I’m a creature of the shadows. Scary. Lethal.”

“Uhum. A monster who makes pancakes and kisses the back of my neck when he thinks I’m sleeping.”

He turned slowly, his golden eyes low on hers.

“You take me apart,” he whispered. “And I love it.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, slowly, sweet, with a taste of morning and promises.

The pancake burned.

But they didn’t even notice.