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When Hunter wakes up, he’s alone.
He notices it instantly.
It’s unusually quiet. Unusually for this house at least, signifying, if nothing else, something's off.
Yet it doesn’t put him on edge.
An odd thing if he thought about it. Usually, it would. Yet it doesn’t, not right now.
And he doesn't linger on it. He just stretches, before throwing himself up. Flapjack whistling a morning tune as he flew to sit in his place on Hunter's shoulder.
Hunter yawns one last time before heading out of his room, careful to not slam the door in case everyone’s just sleeping in.
But he has a feeling they aren't. As he passes Eda's room he notices it's not open, usually, she’d always keep it open in case they had a nightmare. A figurative and literal open door for comfort.
But Titan knows the chaos he would unveil if he woke up Hooty.
And Hooty’s always around.
He toes down the stairs- before rushing down instead, in a rush of hubris that would end the world.
He barely manages to not fall as he trips on the last step.
He takes a big breath as he whips himself up, and Flapjack whistles in alarm.
Careful, careful.
Hunter strokes him on the head in a soothing motion as he mutters a quick apology.
He gives Flapjack a minute to get over his little heart attack. Just letting him calm down for a moment.
And Hunter takes a minute to let his own heart rate calm too.
And after that minute, he’s off to the kitchen again.
Completely discarding the warning as he pads his socked feet over the wooden flooring. sliding just a little, before stopping himself from going too fast.
Hunter wonders where everyone is.
Maybe they're sleeping in, that would be a reasonable assumption. They don’t tend to wake up that early.
In fact, when school starts is what they count as early.
And it’s a weekend. No school today. so they would often sleep in anyway.
But Hunter slept in, and they would still be sleeping.
Maybe Eda was taking Luz to the library? And they didn't want to wake him?
He pondered, brain still sleep-addled.
if they were gone. Or sleeping in. He should make breakfast, he decided.
Hunter rubbed his eyes as he stepped into the kitchen. His final planned destination. thinking about what to make and a hundred other completely unrelated things.
He spotted a note on the counter.
Hunter blinked, before quickly snatching it off.
‘Out getting groceries with Luz and King
Don’t burn down the house
Make good life choices
Hooty’s there incase of emergency
- Eda’
Oh.
And that question sure was solved.
Titan, he forgot how much he loathed to read Eda’s chicken scratch.
Like he swore, weren't adults supposed to have nice and pretty- or at least readable handwriting?
But Eda’s- it was awful. Frankly calling it chicken scratch was being nice. He could barely read it. The only way he could even somewhat translate it was because of pure familiarity.
He froze suddenly.
A realization slowly overtaking as the annoyance over handwriting faded.
“Flapjack. They’re out shopping,”
“Which means, we’re home alone. Alone-alone. I can make any breakfast I want”
Flapjack made a trill that wasn't words like usual, but Hunter could translate the feelings behind it roughly as
Oh no.
“Flapjack! It’ll be fine! Don’t have such little confidence in me”
Boy, love boy, stupid boy.
Hunter blinked slowly.
“Thanks for that,” he decided, rolling his eyes. He was the golden guard , he wouldn't start a fire .
“Love you too.”
And then, swiftly, he moved on.
Flapjack could go sit elsewhere with his ensured lack of confidence.
And he did, quickly vanishing onto the kitchen island instead. Watching it unfold.
Hunter spun on his heel and immediately began rummaging through the pantry for the ‘pancake mix’ Luz had brought from the human realm.
Apparently, they did have it in the boiling isles. But Luz had been adamant it wasn’t the same. Hunter greatly enjoyed pancakes, but he still figured going to a whole different realm for the mix was a little bit over the top.
Eventually, he found the large box and pulled it out with a flair, before setting it onto the counter with a huff.
Then, he knew he needed a pan- and he’d have to check the box for other needed ingredients.
He ducked down onto his knees and sorted through the pans. It took a minute with some loud clangs as they bumped each other, making him tense a bit before moving on. Eventually, he just settled on the flattest one he could find.
Hunter didn’t know if there was a specific pan, and if there was, he didn’t think it was in the kitchen.
It was probably one of those things he found in the linen closet late into the night when he just wanted an extra blanket.
Regardless of pan prospects, he continued on. Not with confidence, but with something akin to help with his desperate need for pancakes.
He took a deep breath, thinking about how he’d seen them made.
He probably should’ve asked to be taught, he’d never really made them before. Eda usually made them, not often, but sometimes for breakfast or dinner. She knew he liked them, so she made them.
Because she was nice like that.
And so he’d never had a reason to learn before that.
Once he had the pan out, he jumped up and grabbed a bowl.
he should probably actually check the ingredients and instructions before he grabbed something he didn’t need to, or worse, broke something.
Water, oil, and one egg.
What kind of oil?
Why didn’t it specify?
Hunter groaned.
But it was fine.
He was tired, and he would succeed in his mission for pancakes if it killed him.
He opened the fridge fervently, grabbing the water pitcher with confidence and the single egg with less confidence but still confidence as to not show it weakness.
Standard cooking procedure.
Never show weakness to the eggs, they’ll remember it.
He then was onto the mission of oil.
He climbed onto the counter. Trying to look at the several options they had in the upper cupboards.
He hovered over each one, questions about why there were so many different kinds running through his mind. Before quickly picking olive oil.
Dreadful stuff. Tasted horrible. Awful, awful drink.
So bad.
Truly not a surprise it originated in the boiling isles, despite how much it had surprised Luz.
Because it really was just.
Yuck.
As petulant as that made him sound.
But he did know he could use olive oil in pancakes.
And it never tainted them before!
He grabbed it and set it on the counter next to him before hopping off
He surveyed all of his prizes on the counter.
The mix. A pan. A bowl. Water. Oil. And a Griffin egg.
Perfect.
…It seemed like a setup for one of Luz’s jokes.
He measured out the mix into the bowl before going in and cracking the egg, successfully, getting no shell in it.
The water was an easy task as well.
The oil fought back desperately from going to the pancakes, leaving him with blood on his hands.
Olive blood.
But he won of course.
He was Hunter Clawthorne he would never bow down to a foe! He’d always remain triumphant!
Hm, he was noticing where Lilith got it.
He grabbed a spatula and began stirring. Doing his best to mix the ingredients together while not ‘over mixing’.
Hunter was completely baffled; he wanted lumps to be left?
but he did as instructed by the omnipotent box of pancake knowledge. Stirring until there were but a few lumps and everything else was mostly smooth.
Then he was instructed to let it stand for ‘one to two minutes’
Hunter now decidedly knows better. Now knowing that the batter will never grow legs and stand. As reasonable as that would be. And he now knows that it just needs to be left alone.
He hadn’t been in the kitchen after that though, as he and Luz had been shoed with the warning of ‘it needs its privacy!’
Hunter is now wondering if Eda just didn’t want them to eat the dough.
Interesting thoughts.
He paused before realizing other things could be done and he didn’t just have to stand next to the batter for two minutes.
So, Hunter grabbed the pan and put it on the stove, turning it on with the signifying clicks before the fire burst.
He poured a little oil on the pan, trying so desperately to be confident so the kitchen didn’t sense his insecurity.
The kitchen couldn’t claim more victims.
Hunter let it heat up, testing when the oil was ready with the spatula before pouring a small amount of the batter in.
And then he’s set to wait.
He turns his attention to Flapjack.
“Being a bird huh?”
He received an affirmative chirp.
“Good, good. Heard it's nice,”
Then, he figures it’s been enough time, surely.
He grabs the spatula and flips it.
Hunter clawthorne, is, not for the first time, wrong.
Everything is sticky and the pan is so very quickly a mess. And somehow the longer he takes trying to get it off the spatula the more burnt it gets. While still being a batter.
Everything is suddenly so very dark.
The universe has betrayed him.
Hunter can't help but remember the good ol' days. Burying himself alive. Not knowing what pancakes are. He misses it.
Being dramatic, Flapjack chirps.
Hunter huffs “no I’m not- you don’t know what I’m thinking!”
Being dramatic. Flapjack chirps again helpfully.
Hunter rolls his eyes fondly.
Then Hunter scrapes off the weird pancake… conglomeration into the trash. It has the consistency of abomination goo and for just a moment he pictures a mini abomination made out of the burnt liquid pancake.
It is a horrible thought, he shudders and makes a face.
He continues on with pancakes. This time pouring into the pan and waiting patiently.
Hunter’s used to waiting. He's good at being patient.
He waits. Occasionally talking to Flapjack for a moment, before he sees the sides of the pancake start to bubble.
He waits just a moment longer just in case, learning his lesson. And then he flips it.
It’s good.
It’s golden brown in some place, and the signature pancake color everywhere else.
He beams in pride, smiling so hard it hurts.
Good job! Good job! Did good! So good! Flapjack chirps enthusiastically, flying back to Hunter's shoulder now that the moving about isn’t a constant.
Hunter just grins more at the praise.
Because he’s so proud.
It’s so stupid, he knows he probably shouldn’t be this proud, if he accepted this as the bar before-
But he is.
Hunter’s proud.
Flapjack quickly yanks his forelock with a concerned Twitter of;
Don’t forget, still cooking! Still cooking!
Hunter blinks but nods making sure to return to watching the pan diligently.
It is so much harder seeing the signs for the last side. But he still hesitantly flips it again.
It’s cooked.
He cheered and Flapjack cheered with him.
Eventually they settled down, Hunter moving it onto a plate, and pouring more batter into the pan.
And then, carefully pulling the first one into bite sized chunks.
Hunter leaned on the counter casually next to Flapjack. Waiting for the pancakes to be good to flip.
“Say, Flapjack. Do you know what some humans call these?” Hunter asked.
He received not a chirp, just a waiting response.
Flapjack knew, Hunter was pretty sure.
Hunter was pretty sure he told Flapjack before.
Still, Flapjack waited.
“Well, some people call them, Flapjacks”
All was still.
The air was quiet.
Then, Flapjack shrieked in outrage as he picked up one of the other pieces from the plate.
And then proceeded to peck it into oblivion.
It was a gory crime.
Can only be one! One Flapjack!
Hunter laughed, a little in shock, with the outward finale exhale making a small whistle from the gap in his teeth
“Oh- yeah yeah- there's only one true Flapjack, only one. It's okay. Wanna help me eat the rest of the Flapjack imposters?”
Flapjack nodded his little bird head and chirped definitively.
Hunter huffed a laugh, scratching behind Flapjack's head before going back to his pancakes easily enough.
Once he got into the routine of it, it was actually pretty easy.
He got overwhelmed pretty quickly with three, the overwhelming worry of them burning or that somehow one wouldn't be cooked fully and it would make a mess of the others.
So he stuck with making pairs of two at a time. snacking on the previous ones as they cooked.
It was so very calm. And a little domestic. Just making pancakes, everything peaceful.
It was unfamiliar. Completely foreign before. But it was nice.
It was so, so strange.
But he didn’t even notice. Not as he flipped pancakes and snacked. And not as he just existed in the owl house.
It was just, peaceful, he just existed.
Hunter was just allowed to exist.
He didn't use to be.
He hummed to himself as he flipped another pancake. Just making idle noise.
Hunter was about to take the pancakes off the pan and put them onto the plate. When suddenly someone else was in the kitchen.
“Hunter- oh hey kid! What are you doing?”
Hunter jumped.
But it was just Eda.
He resumed his mission of making sure the pancakes didn't burn.
“Oh, hey miss Eda. sorry. Didn’t hear the front door open.”
Eda cackled “that’s because I’m so sneaky, also Hooty opened the door quietly for a change. But ehh I think it's me,”
Hunter smiled to himself as he heard the grocery’s signifying ‘thump’ as they were unloaded onto the counter.
“Also, kid. Will you ever drop the miss? It makes me feel old,”
“Alright, ma’am” he responded instantly, a shit-eating grin on his face. And he quickly turned his head to look at her. Just to show how very proud of himself he was.
“Agh- brat” she decided, coming over just to ruffle his already bed-headed hair.
He ducked, and yet still didn’t escape it.
The torture.
The agony.
Will it never cease?
“Oh whatcha makin’?”
“Pancakes,” he said instantly, casually. “wanted them, and I figured if I made enough you guys could have some after your shopping trip escapades”
Eda gave him an odd look for a moment. Before testingly patting him on the head again.
Adults were weird.
Hunter raised an eyebrow, but received no answer. Instead, she just grinned, her characteristic gold fang sticking out.
“Good idea kid!” She exclaimed “And Woah! they don’t even look burnt! Good job!”
Hunter beamed a little and Flapjack happily bumped into him from the counter.
It was good.
Eda went back to putting the things away, talking about the market exploits.
And Hunter poured more batter. And he didn’t think he needed anymore after these two, so he confidently put the largely empty bowl in the sink as he waited. Scrubbing it with a sponge and soap.
He just listened, them both occupying the kitchen.
He wasn’t afraid, and he wasn't nervous.
Even as he flipped the pancakes, Hunter wasn’t nervous.
Healing isn’t linear.
Healing can be painful, and difficult.
But sometimes, you can have a day, where everything, is okay.
Healing means aiming for that day.
That one good day.
Hunter spun around as he heard loud stomping down the stairs and pitter-patter until his siblings emerged around the corner, now properly home-ified.
“Has he been given it yet?” They shouted in unison.
Eda snorted, “not yet, you can give it to him yourselves if you two want”
King and Luz nodded immediately. Luz making a beeline for the counter island.
Hunter should be worried.
He takes the final pancakes off the pan and turns it off.
Alright, Now he has time to be worried.
He turns around again just to have something shoved in his face.
“Agh!” He shouted. Pushing it away from his face on instinct, barely repressing the urge to slap it away.
Then Hunter looked at it.
It was a warm breaded treat.
“Look! We found some of the things you’ve wanted to try! And we got you one! And only one! I didn’t eat the other one!” King explained cheerfully.
“Ah. Noted,” Hunter huffed a laugh. Still a little in shock; as what typically happens when someone shoves bread less than an inch of someone’s face out of nowhere.
“Come on dingus! Take a bite!” Luz grinned.
“Take a bite! Take a bite! Take a bite!” The two chanted.
Hunter laughed, and took it in his hands, and took a bite.
It was good.
It was really good.
And soon, after the chanting and cheering, they all settled down, and had pancakes.
And there was chatter, and it was fun.
Luz and King made dumb bread jokes, making both Eda and Hunter groan until Hunter had enough of their terrible jokes and decided he needed to show what proper humor was.
Eda was subjected to much.
It was a good day.
It was a really good day.