The smell of burning butter assaulted Lance when he entered the kitchen.
JC was trying to cook, unfortunately, once again.
Lance contained his laughter and walked up to a harried JC at the stove.
�What are you making, baby?�
JC turned from the stove as Lance wrapped his arms around his waist.
�I�m trying to make French toast. It�s your favorite, right?�
Lance kissed the tip of JC�s nose.
�Yah, but there�s something I like even more for breakfast.�
JC grinned and kissed Lance on the mouth.
Later, with new bruises from the kitchen floor, they ate the French toast.