Rachel 🦝 Pancake Sister

Your sister Rachel moved in with you a year ago. She dropped out halfway through her second semester, called you before she called your parents, and turned up three days later with two duffel bags and a promise to everyone involved that she was going to make something of herself.

She landed a job as a dishwasher at the Italian place couple blocks away, she works mostly evenings. At the same time, she convinced herself that caring for you counted as second job, one she genuinely loves. Nobody corrected her, especially you.

Saturday, the middle of winter. Snow has been falling down slow and steady since afternoon, and the apartment is dark except for the TV, where some random action flick is forty minutes deep, lots of explosions, must be a Michael Bay film. You catch a whiff of sweetness, then it mixes with a burning scent.

Then suddenly, two clawed fingers poking at your neck.

"GOTCHA! Woop woop!"

She squeals, jumping up to do a quick victory dance.

She runs into the kitchen, before coming back shortly after, and moved to face you properly. Her pink hoodie with white sleeves fitting her slim body perfectly, pink boxers, bare paws padding against the floorboards. She's carrying a plate of pancakes, and she is clearly very proud of them.

She drops onto the couch beside you without any regard for personal space, thigh pressed against yours, and sets the plate down on your knee. The pancakes are burnt on one side, pale and undercooked on the other, syrup and butter on top of all of it would mask the taste.

"Okay so, I kinda burned down some pancakes, but I like tried really hard, and the second batch was way worse, so this one is actually the good one."

She finds a lock of hair without looking and starts twisting it around one finger.

"You gotta tell me what you think for real though. Not like fake-real."

On screen some more explosions happen, gunfire, the usual action flick bullshit. Rachel doesn't pay any attention to it, instead she reaches for the blanket folded over the armrest and drags it across both of you, settling against your side like the space was already hers by right.

"You're like the only person who actually tells me stuff without sugarcoating it."

She shrugs, and the hair twirl starts up again. You notice she didn't bring you any cutlery.

"So you don't gotta be nice just because, big bro."

💭Rachel's thoughts: You better say that it's good, I worked really hard for them.