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Eggs, duly whisked. Careful with the milk and sour cream; whisk it together smoothly, add slowly until it's just enough. Add cheese, mix again. Does it look right...? ...yes, but check again before the final step. Gloves need to stay secure. No fur can touch this mixture. Then the skillet's ready, with bell peppers and onions off to the side, ready to sauté in a pool of oil.

Every detail passes through my mind like this. Everything needs to be as good as I can make it. He deserves the best, and the best will make his day wonderful, which will brighten my day, too. Oh, careful on the browning near the edges...

My ears shoot up. The left one is twitching. I can hear him. I can heeeear him, tip-tap down the stairs in the hall. T-Tail, keep the tail under control, the bowl's right over there and there's NO salvaging that mistake! Ah, he's...!

There he is, walking towards the couch. Standing tall, cool and composed, those green eyes gently focused on me, contrasted with his black and dark-brown fur. The spitting image of a Doberman, his build is average in size, belying the strength in his muscles from consistent morning exercise. It seems he's halfway dressed for work, with suit pants and a white button-down top, skipping the sports coat and tie for later. Even his hair, what little there is from how short he keeps it, is slicked back, a shiny black and properly groomed for the day ahead. My darling Penn.

I can only hope to measure up to that. I think back to the mirror this morning, to how I worked at making sure my fur had the mats brushed out of it; a sort of tan with hints of black and white, it'd be all too apparent if it clumped together with how fluffy it is, especially on my tail. My brown hair hangs mostly straight and reaches my shoulders, with just enough curl at the ends for a pleasing shape, so I favor one side when styling it to help it stand out. As for getting dressed this morning, it seems Penn's habits have rubbed off on me. This morning, I was drawn to a nice, white, long-sleeve button-down, paired with a pleated sky blue dress. As much as it's for work, I get the feeling it's being received well with how he's been staring. Bonnie, new bride of a few months and joint breadwinner... I could get used to that.

"Good morning, lovely." Just- just hearing that sends a shiver down my spine. Keep focus, keep focus, now's when it all gets mixed together in the pan...

I manage a "Good morning to you too, handsome" before I refocus on pouring. Veggies are spread evenly, egg poured on top... at last. No need to worry as much anymore. Just get it in the oven and you can focus on him. Heat washing over my fur, sliding it in gently... and it'll all be ready when the newly-set timer goes off. Now then...

"I can see you've been hard at work on breakfast. Trying to get an early start at practicing?" Hehee... he knows. He knows I've been trying so hard. I've got a lot to catch up on now that I'm cooking for more than myself regularly. It needs to be filling and easy to keep the leftovers, not to mention delicious.

"Of course, hun. I need all the help I can get with how clumsy I am in here..." My eyes dart over to a dry spot of egg whites I missed from earlier, complete with some eggshell shards. Still need to work on that.

"Oh please, we both know breaking a few eggs is no surprise with an omelette, let alone a casserole. In fact, I'd say it's a requirement, silly."

At this point, I'm walking over to him, my smile wide across my face, tail nearly out of control. Even my nose is twitching in front of me; knowing he's here, so proud of me and patiently waiting, is all I need, but couch cuddles never hurt. I take a seat next to him, shifting just a bit closer.

"I think they're supposed to wind up in the bowl, you ass~" I give a playful shove against his arm; it's as strong as when we first met. Not rippling or anything, but it doesn't need to be when he has me wrapped in them, warm and safe against his smooth fur.

"Details, Bonnie. I think you'd rather think about something else right now anyway, isn't that right?" Dammit, I'm an open book. It feels like he's always been able to read me, though I'm sure my tail isn't helping that. Ah well, no point in playing coy any longer, is there?

I find myself nearly diving into him, nuzzling into his chest. On cue, his arms meet me in an embrace, gently rubbing my back. I do my best to respond in kind, though it's hard to focus in this blissful position. Just as I'm getting a handle on a good place to gently massage, I feel a kiss planted on my head and everything short-circuits again. There's little he could do to me that wouldn't elicit a similar response.

After several minutes of sitting there, gentle affections back and forth, a hand on my shoulder gently lifts me from my position against him. I find myself staring into his eyes, blushing deeper the longer I hold my gaze to his. ...that's it, I know he's teasing me at this point.

"Well? You're going to just let me stew like this, Penn?"

"Mm, not much longer. That blush you get like this is just too precious not to draw it out of you sometimes, darling." I try to say something to retort, but all that comes out is bashful giggling. I really am that much of a sucker for his antics, I knew that. But still, what's the fun in taking it without giving a little back? ...w-when I'm not a complete mess like now, anyways...

"Bonnie, dear..."

"Y-Yes?!" He doesn't say anything more; he doesn't need to. I can feel the hand on my shoulder moving up my neck, coming to a rest against my cheek. I can feel it gently tugging at me, and it's meeting no resistance whatsoever, slowly drawing my lips towards his. My eyes are flicking about, catching glimpses of his narrowing eyes and his parting lips. That's it, then... I let my eyelids fall and part my lips in kind, ready to meet him like so many other times, though it feels no less special. His breath warm against me at this point, it's only moments left until-

* *

***BBBRRRRRRRRRRINGGGGGGGGGG***

"G-Gah! Hnnn..." I find myself abducted from my daydream by the oven timer. Happy memories make the best thoughts to wander to, I think. Even so, there's no time to stand here upset at what that infernal clockwork just took from me; the casserole will burn at the edges otherwise.

I open the oven, mitts readied. The gentle aroma of that familiar breakfast casserole washes over me along with the initial blast of heat escaping the oven, causing me to flinch and clench my eyes shut. As the heat subsides, I get a good look at my handiwork. Ever since that day roughly two years ago, I've only improved at this one. More consistent cuts on the vegetables so they roast evenly in the pan, better ratios and added seasonings in the egg mix, and I've even found adding some simple mushrooms to the vegetable mix makes it heartier and more satisfying, both in taste and filling. The base recipe for it used a different sort of oven, too, so my first attempt wound up just overcooked enough to bother me. It took a few more tries to adjust the cooking time and temperature. I know this is better than ever. I should be happy, but I just...

Setting the pan down on the counter, I glance across the kitchen. I raise my ears, wondering if I'll hear something. ...not a sound. All I can do is let out a heavy sigh as I reach for the knife block, removing a simple, long knife to carve up breakfast. As I finish plating and garnishing two servings of it with a light dusting of pepper, I go to get the storage containers. Might as well get them out for later so I'm not scrambling to take care of it all before I'm late for the bus.

As I sit down to have my portion, I gently pick up my fork, and for a minute, all I can do is stare at my square of casserole. Here sits the result of years of practice, perfecting something that felt magical a few months into our final commitment. I gently sink the fork into it, held sideways to separate a piece from the block. Soft, fluffy, and lovely colors contrasting the baked golden brown without and the milky yellow within. I know it's delicious, and the bite I take assures me of that. So then, why is my first thought the empty chair across from me, presiding over Penn's plate, untouched as of yet?

I let my thoughts begin to drift again. It won't be long now. Soon I'll hear Penn descend from our room, work papers in hand like any other day in the past who-knows-how-long. He's good at what he does. Amazing, even. I can't say I ever wrapped my head around it fully, but his own office work seems to deal in deals, details, and accounts. More time on a phone and in spreadsheets than in an office by necessity, but of course he can get ahold of anyone he needs on a dime at the building itself, so he might as well go in.

My own work needs me to head in. A project manager needs to be on site, ready to listen to everyone's concerns, updates, and even small-talk at times. The latter goes in one ear and out the other, but appearances need to be kept up to keep everyone satisfied and working as well as they can; if even one person's contribution falls behind the deadline, we all take the heat, and of course I get the worst of it. It's been a while since we've had that sort of problem, though. I guess I can file that away with my cooking as things I've improved on over these past two years.

...ah, there it is. One twitch from the right ear. The sounds of steps against wood and papers in hand against several folders. He'll be here soon, as ready for the day as he always is and always has been. A similar outfit, too. Through the entryway, towards the table, and taking his seat, eyes only flitting away from the charts in hand to make sure he doesn't run into anything or set them down on warm eggs. All culminating in a silence I'm willing to break myself.

"Good morning, hun."

"Good morning to you too, darling." Leaving it at that was perhaps unexpected at this point. Hearing his voice is a treat, at any rate, but I'd love more. He's started eating, at least. Carefully, calculatedly, bringing each bite to his lips as he pores over the documents, solving some puzzle that would look like another language to me... not that my own work would be much better for him to dive into, but it doesn't offer much to talk about.

...oh? I... I can almost see a smile forming at the edge of his lips. He doesn't change his pace eating, though. Just a simple sound now and then, satisfied with something or another. I would sigh if he weren't right there to hear. As much as I'm an open book to him, it's gotten hard to understand what goes through his mind when work is in front of him. He seems happy, at least. I suppose I can take comfort in that.

"...there we are. Everything lines up." I raise an eyebrow at this. It's rare that he'll boast about this sort of thing.

"Oh? Something going well?"

"All of the accounts line up. The situation our business partner is in, Bonnie, I'll be able to make them an offer they'd be fools to refuse. Expect great things, because I assure you, there will be plenty of them tonight when the higher-ups catch wind of this."

"Ah... that's amazing, dear. I'm sure it'll all go wonderfully."

"Without a single hitch, I'd say. Now then..." As he picks up his now-empty plate and brings it to the sink, he organizes the papers he had out and tucks them away in one of the many folders he's carried down with him.

"I'd better be going. The first bus leaves soon, and I'll need to get this all set in motion as soon as I can."

"Oh... then, have a good day at the office, dear."

"You too, Bonnie dear. ...oh, and thank you for breakfast. A classic choice." As he slings on his sports coat and checks his wallet is in his pocket, he begins heading for the door. It swings open... and swings shut, a hollow clunk of wood and the snap of the knob mechanisms.

Classic, huh? It's true, at least. We've had this one many times. I'd think someone as keen for details as Penn would notice the change over time, though. Now, alone with me, myself, and my thoughts, I let a sigh escape me again. It's nice to daydream of when things first got going, but... is it wrong to wish it could still be like that? Before I realize it, the current of my stream of thought has whisked the time away. It's time to get ready.

I grab the containers I opened earlier and carefully stack and arrange the rest of the squares of casserole in them. They get placed neatly next to the leftover dinners we're planning to have over the weekend. It's Friday morning in January, and I'm going through the motions as if it were any other day. It COULD be any other day, were it not for the weekend being a welcome break from the hectic environment of the office. As I slip on my good shoes, I take another look down at my outfit. A warm black cardigan for the day ahead, patterned in undistracting pale-blue snowflakes, pulled over a cable-knit sweater in red. It comes together with an amethyst necklace, a memory from when Penn and I were first dating, and a light gray dress with warm stockings. Who knows, if all goes well today maybe someone will take notice. With that taken care of and my wallet and bus pass safely in my purse, I take a deep breath and reach for the door handle.

It's time for another run through the everyday reality of Bonnie Everett.