Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed. (Dream x Reader)

Chapter 7 - That was coercion.

"Do you have eggs?" You asked, head cocked. You'd been trying to think of what you wanted for breakfast for quite a while, but Clay had virtually no food in his kitchen. You were perched on top of the counter, legs criss-crossed, staring at him standing in the center of the room. He looked very uncomfortable in this room of his house, obviously not usually entering it longer than it took to grab some snacks and head out.

"Yes. I do have eggs," He confirmed, nodding his head excitedly.

"Bread?"

He hesitated, looking at the ground. "I think so. I don't know where it is."

"You don't-Clay, what the fuck?"

He put his head down on the counter next to you. "I don't know! My mom just drops things off and puts them away. I don't always know what I have."

"It's your fucking kitchen," You reprimanded, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment.

He stuttered out a response, but dropped it. It was no use arguing with you. He didn't even know where the shit in his kitchen was. He brought his head back up and began to search. Not surprisingly, the bread was in a conveniently labeled box, called, "bread box." Who woulda thought?

"So, what are we doing with these?" He asked, taking the carton of eggs out of the fridge.

"I'm going to teach you how to fry an egg," You said, raising your eyebrows at him and doing jazz hands in his direction.

His face dropped.

"Don't tell me you've never fried an egg before, Clay." When he didn't respond, you groaned. "You are twenty-one years old. How have you never fried eggs? And do not say your mom always made you breakfast."

He opened his mouth, but closed it instantly.

"Are you serious? Clay..." You tried to think of what to say next, but your mind came up blank. How could he survive for this long purely on take-out and food from home?

"I'm...lucky, I guess. I've never had to learn."

"Well, you are learning today, love. Grab a frying pan."

When he hesitated again, you laughed out loud. This was going to be a long process.

~*~

An hour later, you were sitting back in the same position on the counter, head in your hands.

"How could you mess up...eggs...that badly?"

"I-I-I swear to God, I did everything exactly what you said."

You looked around at the smoke that was rising in the kitchen, away from the pan. The pan was smoking, the toaster was smoking, and you were disappointed. "You nearly burnt down the damn kitchen! Your first time using it!" You shook your head.

George stumbled into the kitchen as Clay began to pour the somehow overcooked and burnt, yet raw eggs into the trash.

George laughed nervously. "I was going to ask what was for breakfast, but I don't think that I want to know anymore."

"Y/N tried to teach me how to cook...it didn't go well."

"I can tell," The brunet said. He took one whiff of the room and began to cough. "What were you making?" He asked hesitantly, probably not wanting to know the answer.

"Eggs. Fried eggs." You said, and clarified.

Your brother raised an eyebrow. "And it didn't go well, obviously."

"Yeah, not exactly." Clay nodded.

"What are we ordering for breakfast, then?" George asked, pushing the nearly empty carton of eggs to the side and hopping onto the counter next to you.