“Morning in La Push”

The sun was just beginning to filter through the curtains when Janeth woke up in the Black house. It wasn’t a silent dawn; the sound of the ocean drifted softly from the distance, and the scent of damp wood filled the room. The house had that humble warmth that only lived-in places possess.

Jacob was already awake, of course. He was not someone who slept much. He was in the kitchen, wearing a sleeveless shirt, his hair slightly messy and his brow furrowed as he tried—for the third time—to make pancakes.

The pan hissed suspiciously.

Jacob sighed.

“This should be easy,” he muttered, as if the batter were a worthy enemy.

Janeth appeared at the doorway, leaning against the frame as she watched him, trying not to laugh. It was early, but seeing him there, battling utensils like they were part of the pack, filled her with unexpected tenderness.

“Fighting for survival?” she teased.

Jacob turned, and the fake frustration disappeared when he saw her. That real smile—warm enough to rival his supernatural body heat—appeared effortlessly.

“I’m demonstrating adult skills,” he replied, lifting the spatula like a trophy. “I’m being responsible. Provider. Civilized.”

The pancake stuck to the pan disagreed.

Janeth walked over and gently took the spatula from his hand, wearing a patient smile.

“Come on, big bad wolf. I’ll take over.”

Jacob growled playfully, crossing his arms.

“I’m not that bad,” he said, though in his head he knew he was absolutely terrible at cooking. He could take down supernatural threats, but breakfast… that was a different battlefield.

She poured the batter into the pan with practiced ease.

Jacob watched her.

It was strange how simple things could hit him so hard. This wasn’t a fight, there was no danger, no adrenaline. It was just her… making breakfast in his kitchen. And to him, that meant more than any victory.

He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. His warmth enveloped her instantly.

“You know,” he said softly, “I could get used to this.”

Janeth smiled, keeping her eyes on the pan.

“Pancakes every day?”

“No,” he replied, giving her a short kiss on the cheek. “You. Here. With me.”