"Yeah, we should! That would be really fun!" he said, setting a clean pan onto the stove and turning the heat on. "You should set the heat to about medium to medium high, and cook until both sides come out to the coveted "golden brown" that cooking blogs are always going on about. Oh, and press down on them with the spatula a bit, not too hard, just enough pressure to make sure the batter's all the way cooked. If you see some uncooked batter coming out at the edges, that's bad." Quincy rambled on about the intricacies of flipping your own flapjacks, and soon there was two steaming piles set on paper plates.
"I am feeling waaay too lazy to do the dishes this morning," he smiled, giggling a bit at what he decided counted as a joke, or at least a silly remark. "I think we still have some of that nice maple syrup somewhere…"
“In the cupboard to the left of the stove?” Leandro questioned, placing the plates on the table along with forks and butter. His mouth was practically watering at the sight of food, had not eaten anything until now. They looked fluffy and absolutely perfect, but he waited until Quincy came to the table to start eating. “I gotta be honest, these look wayyy better than mine, dude.”
"Aww! Thanks!" he said, settling down at the table and digging in. They were pretty good, if he said so himself, and it definitely looked like Leandro was enjoying them too.
Leandro groaned, leaning back and stretching over the chair in satisfaction. His stomach was full and he was in a good mood. “If I knew that you cooked this good I would’ve messed up ages ago.” he said, smiling softly.
He idly checked the time, and almost choked on his apple juice. Scrambling up, he could only sputter the words, “Late-, volleyball in 10.” before sprinting to his room. The resident gym was 15 minutes away and he was going to be lucky if he didn’t get pulled over.
"Alright, see you later I guess." he shrugged, clearing up the dishes as he watched Leandro dash out the door. Anyways, he had his own things to be going to; his sister needed help moving into her new apartment and he had choir later that day. He packed up his own things, and headed out the door.
Leandro threw a goodbye over his shoulder as he flew down the stairs, rushing towards his car. Maybe going 10 over the speed limit so he didn’t have to run extra laps at practice was a bad idea in hindsight, but he got there right on time, smiling sheepishly at his captain as he jogged into the locker room.
(By the way I am so sorry I haven't been online, we had to wait a bit to pay the wifi bill and we have the worst phone signal in my area. I am here now!!!!! I am, again, so! So! Sorry!)
Quincy drove out of the apartment's parking lot, wasting no time in getting to his sister's house.
"Qui-Qui! I'm so glad you're here!" she embraced him in a rib-crushing hug, leading him inside.
When he got home after a long day of lifting boxes into the house and then arranging them in aesthetically pleasing places before opening about four of them and setting up the bed, Quincy collapsed onto the couch. He could probably grab a quick nap, choir wasn't for another half hour and his church was hardly far from here.
After two hours of painstakingly preparing for next week's service and scheduling for the next two weeks, he finally, finally, could rest. But Leandro would be home soon and Quincy wanted to spend a bit of roommate bonding time together. And he still had an essay due. Oh well, he'd find time for it later. Maybe pull an all-nighter if required. But maybe he could take a nap…
He curled up on the couch with a quilt and instantly passed out.
hey you’re all good!!!! no worries !!!!
Leandro was beyond sore after his practice. They had a big game coming up against their colleges rivals and Coach had decided to push them beyond their limits. Not only that, but he had twisted his ankle when landing from a block and it stung everytime he took a step.
Trekking up the stairs to their apartment, he opened the door, quietly calling out a “I’m home,” All he wanted to do was sit on the couch, ice his ankle, and talk with Quincy for a bit.
Dropping his bag at the door, Leandro found his way to the fridge, digging out a bag of frozen peas to soothe his ankle. Maybe Quincy’s already asleep, he thought, brows furrowed at the lack of a response.
