Pancakes || Perciver

Oliver had woken up earlier than usual this morning. He had been in a very heavy discussion with his sister the previous day. She claimed that Oliver wasn’t capable of cooking and of course he had to convince her otherwise. So, they’d decided to have a pancake-diner together, just as they used to have when they were kids. Oliver had decided that some practise would be smart, since he’d never used the stove, and the pans standing in his cupboard in his entire life.
He grabbed all the stuff he (thought) he needed and placed it all on the counter. “Okay. How hard can it possibly be?” he said, meant to have an encouraging effect. It only made him question himself, though.
Oliver put the the ingredients together and stirred until they formed a smooth mixture. Okay, it was still going well. Now the baking.

He’d done everything the instructions said and it didn’t exactly work out as planned. He was now at pancake number ten. Everything had either came out too thick or so thin that it completely fell apart when he tried to turn the damn thing. In the mean time, dough had somehow managed to smear itself on his face and in his hair and he wondered if he was really this great of a moron. Oliver sighed and tried again. He let out a little sound of triumph when it didn’t immediately fail. Then he heard the doorbell ring. For god’s sake, what a bloody good timing..
Oliver ran a hand through his hair and walked up to the front door before opening it.
“Percy?”
“Hello, Oliver. I am here to- are you aware of the fact you are covered in dough?”
“No. Thanks for pointing it out and making my day a little bit more miserable.”
“I think you are being quite dramatic.” Percy stated and looked at him before pushing his glasses up on his nose.
“I’m not. I’ve been trying to make pancakes for the last two hours but they all turn out to be wasters.” he said exaggerated.
“I do not intend to severe your obvious frustration, but I have the feeling something is on fire.”
Oliver frowned. “What do you bloody mean something is on fire- shit.” He rushed towards the kitchen. “And come in!” he called out to Percy.
He quickly put the burned pancake on a plate and looked at it as Percy walked up behind him. “I think I was right.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Thanks to you, the only pancake with potential was destroyed.” Oliver said.
“As a matter of fact, that’s not entirely true. If you had watched your cooking this wouldn’t have happend.” Percy answered.
“Thanks a lot.” Oliver muttered. “Well, my sister’s going to have so much fun.”
Percy looked at him, his brow slightly furrowed. “I thought everyone was able to at least make pancakes.”
“So, does that mean you can?” Oliver asked.
“Obviously.”
“Show me.”
“The well-known, brilliant Oliver Wood, asking me for help. I feel a strong urge to call the Daily Prophet.” Percy said.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Do you have to rub in?” And he was sure that was a (nearly invisible) smirk on Percy’s face.

They spent the entire afternoon teaching Oliver how to make pancakes, and eventually he got the hang of it. And when he accidentally (or not) smacked some dough on Percy’s face he might or might’ve not laughed.
“I think there’s something on his face.” Oliver said.
“No shit Sherlock.” Percy quoted him, as Oliver stood on his toes an kissed the taller boy. The day hadn’t turned out as a disaster after all.