November 10th, 1977
Who: Caitlin Jugson and Ioan Llewellyn
What: Soda pancakes D:
Where: Their kitchen
It occured to Caitlin Jugson, as she stared at the back of her fiancée's head, that she didn't know how to make pancakes.
What kind of women didn't know how to make pancakes? What kind of fiancée didn't know how to make pancakes? Oh, oh God! What kind of wife didn't know how to make a bloody batch of pancakes! Was it even called a batch? Maybe a...a...oh, fuck. Was there another word for a lot of food? Did food have certain terms to certain things? Ohgoshthis.
Not good. Really, really not good.
She scrambled out of bed (attempting not to wake Ioan up, but she was feeling a bit scatterbrained so she probably did) and grabbed her sleeping robes. Flinging them on, Caitlin hurried out of their bedroom and down the hall and into the kitchen, immediately going for the cabinets. Did she have pancake stuff? What did---how did? Wait. Her mum always put in like, powder stuff. Powder stuff and...what. What the hell was in a pancake?
After a few more minutes of making a lot of noise and opening all the cabinets in her small kitchen, Caitlin hoped she had everything needed to make pancakes. Then, she thought of something.
"Oh my God," she muttered, looking at all her ingredients and the bowls and the spoons and the pans. "How the fuck do I make it round?"
"That's got something to do with the way you pour it into the pan, I think."
Smirking at his fiancée, Ioan Llewellyn stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe and looking infinitely casual in a pair of boxers and no shirt. He laughed quietly, observing Caitlin for a moment, then pushed himself away from the frame and padded over to her, slipping his arms easily around her waist. Ioan rested his chin in her neck and looked around at all the mess she had put out on the counter with mild amusement, his eyebrows raising at the complete lack of pancake material she had actually taken out.
"... cream cheese and milk? My, these are going to be some interesting pancakes." He kissed her cheek, grinning against it.
Caitlin let out a string of those very nervous 'oh please don't ask any more questions' giggles at his comment and flushed a deep, dark red. She knew she shouldn't have taken out the cream cheese, but it was---how did you make the batter all thick and stuff? She wasn't really going to put it in the batter well so.
Bloody freakin hell, she was a trained Healer, and she couldn't make pancakes. Someone should take her license away, honest.
"Ohhhhh, that's for the bagels for later," she responded, voice a bit high pitched as she lied through her teeth. Caitlin had the spoon in her hand and she waved it around a bit. "How--how does your mum make them, how do you like it?"
Maybe he'd give her some hints, because it was looking quite bad at the moment.
"You've got to be crazy to think anyone in my family has ever cooked a single meal for themselves," Ioan said with a chuckle, thinking of the one time his sister, Ophelia, had tried to make a cake for his birthday. Having only been eight or so at the time, she had ended up yelling and throwing a tantrum about how horrible it was to be getting icky and dirty and sticky; the house elves had taken over before she even had time to crack a single egg. "And quite honestly, I don't even like the way the house elves make them that much."
He frowned and let her go, placing his hands on the counter and biting the inside of his cheek in thought. Hmm... this really was all rather complicated-looking. He wasn't planning on getting into it.
"I'm sure that whatever way you decide to make it will be wonderful," he concluded, shooting her a charming smile.
Oh, perfect.
Caitlin spun quickly to watch his retreating back and basically glare because she was quite sure that he knew, ohhhhh he knew that she didn't know what on Earth she was doing. Whyyyy hadn't she just stayed in bed and then when he woke up they would cuddle again and then lead to other things and then they'd both have to run out and whoops, no breakfast. No breakfast, no cooking, it suited her fine.
Hmph.
"Fine, it shall be wonderful," she said mostly to herself. Remembering that Deidra had given her a cooking book (duh, how the hell hadn't she remembered?), Caitlin summoned it over and found a supposedly easy recipe for pancakes. Brilliant! She could follow instructions, she got an O on her Potions N.E.W.T. "Soda? Is that--that's fizzy...why on earth...ah, well."
Honestly, Ioan hadn't known that Caitlin even knew how to cook. He pondered over how he had missed this little trait of hers in all the time they had been dating as he traveled back up the stairs and into their bedroom. Ah well, he knew now... and he could always act like he knew, if it was a big deal for her.
See? He always had a plan of action when it came to her. He was going to be such an awesome husband.
Venturing into the bathroom, he decided that he probably had about enough time to get ready before the pancakes were done downstairs.
So apparently, her fiancée thought she could cook. Bother. When had she ever given him that impression? Weren't they always eating out? Had she even washed a dish since they'd moved into the house? Bother, bother, botherbother.
Well, at least the recipe was easy enough. Haha, how could she not have done this before? Caitlin began to hum a tune as she mixed all the specified ingredients (drinking from the fizzy drink in her free hand), amazingly proud of herself that she new where the measuring cups were (at least her mother had enough sense to provide her with such things). Now...making them...she bit her lip as she tentaively poured some batter on the skillet.
"Oh!" she squeaked happily, jumping up a little bit at the sight of the perfect circle the batter had miraculously created all on its own. "Ahahahahaha, yessss."
After a few minutes the entire batter was gone and a pile of perfect looking pancakes sat on a plate. Huh, nottttt, bad. How had she ever doubted herself? Well, by the looks of her counter, she still had a long way to go.
"Honeyyyy," Caitlin called up the stairwell, using a very silly house-wifey voice, "Breakfaaaassttt!
Perfect timing, Ioan thought, just straightening his tie in the mirror as he heard Caitlin's voice, and he grinned to himself. This was going to turn out to be a pretty good morning, he decided--his future wife knew how to cook and was making him breakfast, after all. What could go wrong with that?
She could cook. He shook his head and laughed at his reflection in the mirror. Wow, just when he thought his fiancée couldn't get any more perfect. "Coming, darling!" he called back, starting out of their room and down the stairs back into the kitchen.
It smelled very good, he thought, as the scent reached him. Looked great too, sitting there on the table all nice and golden and steaming with all the dressings around the large plate. "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?" he asked, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"Yes, but you're absolutely allowed to tell me again," Caitlin responded with a cheeky grin, feeling so amazingly good that he was so happy with it. And he hadn't even tried them! Hehe, aw, he was so good like that.
"Here here, go get started, I'm just going to put some stuff away." She pushed him toward chair and gave him a kiss on the shoulder, picking up a pancake for herself before turning back to the sink.
Man, did she make a mess. Caitlin stuck the pancake into her mouth as she tried to figure out where to begin and...ew. Oh, oh, ew. She stopped mid-chew and winced greatly. Not. Good. Ew. Ew. Ewewewewewewewew! Caitlin spun around to tell Ioan not to eat them, and groaned when she saw it was just a bit too late.
Too late was right. By the time Caitlin turned around to warn him about her mess-up on the pancakes, he already had a bite in his mouth, chewing and--oh...blech.
It took all of Ioan's self control to not cough and spit it out, and to keep the smile on his face. With much, much effort, he gulped it down and tried not to taste it too much.. oh, but oh, the taste was still in his mouth and--quick, orange juice, yes, there--He downed nearly half the glass very quickly, trying to look nonchalant and failing.
Okay, so maybe he hadn't been mistaken about his bride-to-be. He now realized that Caitlin, under no circumstances, could cook. At all. What--what had she even done to make them taste like that... He felt a horrible sinking feeling as he looked down at his full plate. How in the world was he going to down the rest of those? He would have to, because if he didn't then Caitlin might be pissed at him, but--oh, his stomach would hate him later..
She almost wanted to laugh at his expression (the poor dear, he was ready to get sick), but Caitlin was a bit too busy feeling like an idiot and ready to cry. Oh, how had she messed them up? It had been such an easy recipe, too, and they looked perfect and--
How were they going to survive if she couldn't cook?! Oh, oh God, their children would starve and then they'd hate her and she'd be the worst mother ever and how could she have been the Head Girl of her bloody year and not know how to cook?
Why wasn't there a 'how to live in the real world' class at Hogwarts?!
"Ohhhh, I'm sorry," she moaned, rushing over and taking his plate, eyes brimming with tears, "I don't know what I did, I followed the recipe but maybe I put too much of something in and--and maybe I'll try--no, no I'll just get cereal or something and---" Caitlin sniffled, pouting greatly. "They're so pretty."
Now that was something he hadn't been expecting at all. It seemed as if Caitlin had caught his momentary look of disgust he was certain had slipped out somewhere in the midst of trying not to look disgusted, but she wasn't angry or throwing things at him for being insensitive. She was apologizing. ... and crying? Oh no. She was really crying over it.
Standing up quickly in the hopes of putting a bit of chaos control into the situation, Ioan put his hand over hers to stop her taking the plate away. "Hey hey, calm down there, babe," he said, grabbing her by the shoulder gently with his other hand. "Don't cry over it, it's just a few stupid pancakes."
"But--but, how are we going to eat?" she cried out, a few tears escaping even though she really didn't want to cry. Caitlin just felt so horrible that she was completely inept at the duties of being a wife. Their sex-life was fantastic, of course, but the rest of the job was certainly not doing too hot.
She looked down at the plate, pouting greatly. Stupid pancakes, ruining everything. Siiiiiigh. At least she was smart and pretty, because she definitely wasn't going to win any prizes with her cooking skills.
"I just--I want to be able to cook for you, and stuff," she muttered, getting a bit embarrassed by admitting that.
Ioan tried not to laugh--really, because laughing at a time when his fiancée was so emotional was probably a bad thing that really would get things thrown at him--but he just couldn't help it! For what an intelligent woman she was, she really was being rather silly about this whole thing. Like they were going to starve just because she couldn't cook! Did she think all those affluent pureblooded women went around learning how to cook for their families? Of course not! His mother or any of her friends had never cooked a meal for their families in their lives... with the world he was coming from, Caitlin could hardly expect he expected her to cook for him, could she?
"Aw, Cate, it's not a big deal, really," he tried to reassure her. It was touching that she wanted to be able to cook for him, and that made him want to make her feel better even more. He was very lucky to have a woman that cared that much. "It's not like I expected you to ever have to bother cooking for me when I decided to marry you or anything. I was thinking we'd get a house elf or two, actually--you know, and if you really want to learn how to cook, you can learn and then we can get rid of them if you want when you can. Just don't cry over it, it's nothing to be crying over."
"Do they do laundry too?" Caitlin asked before she could stop herself.
Of course she'd always dreamed of owning a house-elf, because good Lord she hated doing chores and housework, but she'd never actually thought about it happening. Of course, she should have, knowing the family Ioan was coming from, but she'd just moved into her first house, and the only homelife she knew was her time with Bree and back with her parents. House-elves had never even been thought off (except when his father jokingly called them that, when the kids had to clean).
She smiled and sniffled once more, leaning forward to give him a kiss out of gratitude. Her fiancé was just the sweetest man ever, and she was so glad to have found him. "Thank you," Caitlin said with a grin.
Hah, crisis abated. Ioan gave himself a mental pat on the back and tried not to grin too widely. "Of course they do laundry. They'll do anything you want them to do, really. And you're welcome," he said, receiving the kiss happily. He put his hands on her shoulders and moved so he was standing in front of her, smiling down at her.
"Besides, something so beautiful shouldn't be doomed to doing housework for the rest of her life," he added in, figuring the compliment was just a nice touch and never hurt to add in there. "I'll put in an order for one today, and until then... well, we'll be eating out very well for a couple weeks. That won't bother you, will it?"
"Chaa, definitely not," Caitlin said with a happy smirk, eyes widening. She was not going to try to be creative in the kitchen again, as long as they could handle it. Which was like...forever, seeing as he was born rich and she was an animal Healer that made a pretty knut. Why had she even worried about eating? Did they even have food in the fridge?
And Ioan had definitely earned some points with his little 'beautiful' comment. Of course she knew she was pretty (Like, come on), but it was always refreshing to hear, especially when you'd just rolled out of bed and were still in your pyjamas.
"You," she said, taking his tie in her hands, wondering if he'd mind having to get dressed again, "are very, very good at this doting husband thing." Her eyebrows rose in a suggestive manner.
