How To Make Pancakes - A Guide for Demons and Other Supernatural Beings

Quinn was not good at making pancakes.

This became painfully obvious the moment she decided that a ceramic plate would function perfectly well as a second frying pan to “increase efficiency.”

Jarel only noticed when the rapid clicking of the gas stove’s ignitor snapped his attention to the disaster forming beside him. He was in the middle of flipping a pancake in an actual pan when he saw her hand hovering near the controls.

It took him half a second to grab her wrist, twist the gas back down to zero, and pull the plate out of the danger zone.

She looked deeply offended.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

He grit his teeth.

“No, what are you doing? What made you think that was a good idea?”

“If we both cook at the same time it’ll be done quicker, and then you can be lazier!”

He stared at her for a full second.

Then he laughed.

He couldn’t help it.

She, on the other hand, did not look amused.

“Why are you laughing?”

He grinned.

“You. You’re just… so innocent.”

“I’ll send you to Hell.”

“I’m sure.”

He gestured toward the stove.

“Only items designed for that level of heat can go on there. That plate would’ve cracked. Or exploded.”

She looked sheepish.

“Oh.”

He softened.

“If you want to hold the pan, you can just ask.”

She shook her head immediately.

“No. I want you to stop being productive. I was trying to increase efficiency. If I can’t cook at the same time, then you should do it. You’re better at it, so you’re more efficient.”

He chuckled.

“Here. Take the pan.”

He didn’t give her time to argue. He released the handle, gently grabbed her wrist, and guided her hand onto it.

She spluttered.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

He stepped behind her, close enough to see over her shoulder.

“I’m teaching you to cook. Like you asked.”

“B-but this isn’t being lazy!”

“It’s a future investment. Like we agreed.”

She blinked.

“Future… oh. Because in the future you won’t have to help at all.”

He nodded.

“Exactly.”

She considered this carefully.

“So by being more active now, you’re guaranteeing laziness later.”

“Correct.”

She paused, then nodded solemnly.

“That’s acceptable.”

He could’ve sworn he’d explained that exact concept before, but this time it truly seemed to land.

And then he became acutely aware of their position.

He was standing directly behind her. Close enough to feel her warmth. Close enough that her silver ears brushed his chin when she tilted her head. His hand was still wrapped around hers, guiding the pan in slow, steady motions as the batter sizzled and took shape.

It was unbearably romantic.

And she had no idea.

He hated that.

He wanted her to notice. Wanted the thought to cross her mind. Even if it meant she shoved him away in flustered indignation. He wanted her to be emotionally aware - not just reactive, not just logical.

She had emotions. Strong ones.

But they weren’t calibrated for human living.

So what was he supposed to do?

He didn’t know.

Before he knew it, the final pancake was flipped neatly onto the stack. The stove clicked off. The overhead extractor wound down with a soft whirr as its power cut.

Quinn spun to face him, tail wagging so hard it nearly knocked a utensil off the counter.

“Did we do it? Did we make pancakes?”

He nodded, smiling.

She nearly squealed.

“Yippee!”

Her unfiltered joy over something as simple as pancakes - even with his heavy assistance - made his chest flutter. He couldn’t stop grinning.

“Good job. High five.”

He lifted his palm.

She stared at it.

“What’s that for?”

He chuckled.

“It’s a small human celebration. You’re supposed to hit it.”

She frowned thoughtfully.

“Like this?”

The crack that rang out could probably be heard from the hallway.

Jarel hissed as pain shot up his arm. His palm burned instantly.

Quinn froze.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Was that too hard?”

He nodded through clenched teeth.

“Yeah…”

He hadn’t expected that kind of strength. He hadn’t expected her delicate frame to carry that much force at all. But apparently, being a demon incarnate came with hidden stats.

She looked horrified.

“Is it bad? Please tell me you’re alright. You can’t relax if you’re in pain!”

He inspected his hand. Bright red. Fortunately, nothing seemed dislocated.

“I’ll live.”

She exhaled in visible relief - though it was slightly undercut by the fact that his face was still twisted in agony.

And then a familiar voice chimed in from behind her.

“You two are such lovebirds, flirting constantly!”

They both jumped.

Aunty Sayang stood in the entryway, chuckling.

“I let myself in a minute or two ago.”

That means she saw us cooking.
Which means she saw how I was holding her-

His heart began to rattle.

“A-Aunty Sayang… what are you doing here?”

She smiled sweetly.

“I smelt pancakes, so I thought I’d pop over.”

Of course.

“Would you like some?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, you’re such a sweetie. Yes please, dear.”

As Jarel turned to gather plates and utensils, Sayang shifted her full attention to Quinn.

“And how are you, dearie? Did you spend the night here?”

Quinn nodded stiffly. She still hadn’t decided how one was meant to converse with the guardian of the Sacred Cookie Recipe.

“Where did you sleep? There’s only one bed.”

Quinn’s voice wobbled, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.

“W-we slept on the couch together…”

Sayang’s eyes sparkled.

“Oh! How did you manage that?”

Jarel focused very intensely on arranging cutlery. His face felt like it was on fire.

Quinn, unfortunately, defaulted to honesty.

“I… I slept on top of him…”

Sayang’s smile turned dangerous.

“Oh, did you now? I think we’re going to need to have a little talk, dearie…”

Quinn stiffened.

In her mind, this was progress toward the cookie recipe.

“A talk?”

“Mhm. Just us two. Does that sound good?”

Quinn nodded immediately.

“Good. Now let’s eat these magnificent pancakes you made.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“Th-thank you…”

Jarel felt a flicker of irrational jealousy. Praise from Sayang made her flustered. Praise from him barely registered.

He pushed the thought aside and carried the pancakes and toppings to the table.

The scent of butter and syrup filled the room.

But stronger than that - stronger even than the pancakes - was the unmistakable scent of interrogation.

Sayang was preparing questions.

And he was absolutely terrified.

All he could do now was hope Quinn didn’t let too much slip.