"I don't think it's supposed to look like that."

He was peering into the pan, cookbook clutched to his chest, a look of concentration pinching his brow. It would have been cute if he hadn't just had the nerve to insult my cooking skills.

"It looks fine to me."

"I don't think it looks right."

"Yeah, but you're the guy who thought baking powder was just a different brand of baking soda, so who am I going to believe?" I allowed a brief pause. "The answer was me, in case you were wondering."

"Holding my breath." Whoever taught him sarcasm was not getting a Christmas card from me this year. "Seriously, Jose, it doesn't look like in the book. See?" He held the cookbook out for me to look at. "It's too thick."

"You've never complained about that before," I said, unable to resist, watching his ears turn red as he got it.

"Dirty old man," he accused, closing the cookbook and thunking me lightly in the side of the head with it. "Fine, keep making dumb mutant crepes, don't blame me when they suck."

"Well if they suck so much, you don't have to eat any."

"Good, I won't," he shot back, flopping down in a chair at the counter and propping his chin on folded arms. "I wouldn't eat them if you paid me. They'd probably make me barf with their suckiness."

I peered at him critically over the stove as I turned the crepe with (I admired) an expert flip. "Really? Even if I doubled that hefty $35-a-week salary?"

He picked an apple out of the fruit bowl and took a big bite, talking around it. "Oh, well, sure then," he said through the mouthful. Juice ran down his chin, and bits of apple flew from his mouth when he answered. I was mildly horrified to discover I found it adorable and made a mental note to kick my own ass.

"Kind of easy, aren't you?" I asked just to break up the thought, ladling more batter into the pan.

He shrugged and swallowed bite, then said deadpan, looking straight at me: "I got my mind on my money, and my money on my mind." He easily dodged the whisk I threw at him, grinning around the apple.

"You know, I am just going to cancel cable. We will see how you do then without your precious MTV and 'I Love A Bunch of Dumb Stuff That Happened Like Five Years Ago.'"

"Oh my god, Jos, 'I Love the 90's is on VH1! You're so retarded," he groaned, rolling his eyes with the depth of disdain only a teenager can muster. "And I'd be totally fine, 'cause I'd run off with someone who had cable and knew how to make crepes that didn't suck."

"Oh, I see how it is!" I lamented, flipping the last crepe onto the plate and filling it with strawberries. "I should have seen it coming with the crepes." I sat down next to him at the counter with my plate, looking appropriately appalled and heartbroken.

"Yep, I'm just using you for your cable hookup," he said cheerily. "I could not go on with this charade any longer."

I picked up a crepe and bit into it deeply. "Go ahead, leave," I told him, waving him toward the door. "I'll just sit here alone, crying into my crepes."

"Aww." He glanced at my plate. "How are they? Really sucky?"

"No, they're actually pretty fucking awesome." I polished off the crepe and licked strawberry juice from my fingertips. "You wish you were nicer to me now."

"I do, a little," he conceded, eyeing the crepes. "Umm... I'm sorry?" he tried, pretty insincerely in my opinion.

"No, you're not," I sighed, but I picked up a chocolate-filled crepe and fed him a bite.

"No, I'm not!" he echoed cheerfully. "You're still retarded for not understanding why 'I Love the 90's' is the greatest show ever." He stole another bite. "But these are pretty tasty, so I guess I can forgive you or something."

"Gee, thanks, you're so generous. Punk."

"Geezer," he replied gamely, snatching up another crepe.

"Whippersnapper."

"Senior citizen."

"Baby."

"Cradle-robber."

I winced. "Don't even joke, it's bad enough already!"

"Aw, c'mon. Makes you feel adventurous, doesn't it?"

I levelled him with a dark look. "Marc, sky-diving makes me feel adventurous. This makes me feel... illegal."

He honest-to-god giggled. "Well, good," he admonished, licking sugar from his thumb, "you should feel bad! Corrupting innocent youth like this."

I licked sugar from his mouth. "You never complained any about being corrupted."

"I probably didn't know any better," he said, giving me a wide-eyed look I wasn't buying. "Maybe I'm still innocent and pure enough not to understand how wicked you are." He grinned.

I laughed and kissed him. He tasted like strawberries. "I bet I can do something about that," I promised, and the crepes were forgotten.

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