Ballad of a Broken Boy

Singing along to Harry Styles

I woke up to the smell of bacon. For a minute, I didn't remember what had happened, and as I made my way downstairs, I expected to see my mom in the kitchen. I froze when I saw Ricky standing there, shirt off, sweatpants pulled low over his hips to show the top of his Calvin Klein boxers. I felt myself drooling, before I snapped out of it. A bunch of theories ran through my mind before I finally remembered everything that had happened. I sighed in relief, making Ricky jump and fling a pancake into the air. I laughed as he looked up and got hit in the face as it fell back down.

"Awe, dammit." He groaned, wiping sloppy pancake off his face. He turned around and I saw it was all down his torso.

"You look like someone threw up on you." I giggled. He smirked evilly.

"How about a hug, Neeners?" he said innocently, elongating my name, which I found strangely sexy. I stepped backwards.

"No, I think I'm okay..." I said, stepping back again as he came closer. He grinned.

"But I thought you loved me? Besides, that was a perfectly good pancake you wasted." He complained. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh my God, I am so ashamed. I deserve to be locked up. I cannot believe I murdered an innocent pancake. And in cold blood, too. So ashamed." I mocked him. He glared at me, and for a second I thought he was really angry. Then I saw that familiar twinkle in his eyes, and I knew he was suppressing a laugh.

"Don't take the piss out of pancakes. You can take the piss out of me all you like, but when it comes to pancakes I draw the line." He said seriously, continuing to walk towards me. I kept walking backwards, and then I stumbled. I tried to regain my balance, but to no avail. I felt myself fall to the floor, landing on my ass with an 'oof'.

Ricky collapsed with laughter, sinking to his knees and holding his stomach. I glared at him.

"That hurt." I snapped angrily. He looked up at me, wiping tears from his eyes.

"You hurt me. That pancake was hot." He pointed out. I sighed, rolling my eyes at him for a second time.

"Touché, Bowen. Now help me up." I sighed, holding out my hand. He laughed and pulled me up, getting to his own feet at the same time. When I was steadily back on my feet I tried to pull my hand back, but he smirked at me and pulled me to him for a hug. I felt wet pancake mix soak through my shirt, but I didn't really care. My other hand went to his chest and I started tracing the lines of his abs. He moaned and kissed me, and I kissed back without hesitating.

"Mmm, I think your pancakes are getting cold." I sighed, pulling away. His eyebrows rose.

"So?" He mumbled, pulling me back in. I laughed.

"As much as I enjoy kissing you, I'd really like to eat some breakfast." I chuckled.

Did you make any more pancakes?" I asked him, hopefully. He shook his head.

"No, I had to cook the bacon first, then the pancakes. I've never been good at multi-tasking, and I really didn't want to burn down your kitchen. That was the first one." He sighed. I smiled bravely, stepping closer to whisper in his ear.

"Then I guess I'll just have to make do with what I've got..." I breathed. He frowned, confused, until I trailed a finger down his chest and licked it. I smiled.

"Mmm..." I said, seductively. He groaned.

"Nini... why do you have to torture me?" he whispered huskily. I laughed.

"I'd hardly call this 'torture'." I said, repeating the gesture. He grabbed my hand when it was inches away from my mouth.

"Whenever you touch me, it's torture." He whispered. I giggled, suddenly moving my hand to wipe the pancake batter on his lips. He licked them, and I felt myself shiver.