fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room: Wednesday Morning

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Fourth Floor Common Room: Wednesday Morning

Jamie woke up this morning feeling more hungry than usual. Almost ravenous.

And he wanted pancakes. And Pie. But he also didn't want to wait to go to down or go out for ingredients so he used what he had on hand.

Which is why a certain (and now almost empty) bag of flour was used that had a certain teacher's signature on it.

Not that Jamie cared of course, because now there were pancakes and pecan pie. Lots of them. And because he wanted to eat them as soon as they were made there were six Jamies eating the pie and pancakes as soon as they were ready.

With a disturbing lack of table manners.

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When Sookie wandered in, the first thing she noted was that there were pancakes.

The second thing she notices was the flour.

"...what are you doing?" she all but shrieked.

"Making breakfast?" Jamie offered looking a little bewildered. "We also have pie. And if regular pancakes aren't you thing we can have banana or chocolate chip pancakes."

"With our baby," she added, pointing at the bag.

"And I assure you he's very delicious," Jamie said with a nod. "Or are you not into carbs?"

"He's our grade and supposed to be a child," Sookie insisted, glaring. "What are you doing?"

"Making breakfast?" Jamie offered again and still looking bewildered. "Didn't I mention that?"

"We're supposed to take care of that, not eat it!" she insisted, looking horrified.

"You do know it's just a bag of flour right?" Jamie said carefully. "Plus these are really good pancakes."

"Yes, I know that," she snapped, "but we were supposed to take care of it for a week and you baked with it!"

"And baked rather well I might add," Jamie said cheerfully. "I think we can make an argument that I was trying to have our child meet his ultimate potential."

"You can tell him that," Sookie decided.

"I will," Jamie grinned. "You're worrying too much. I've been in several of Mr. Roger's classes and he knows me and probably knew something like this would happen. Which is why you should sit down and have some wonderful pancakes and then enjoy him throwing my ass in detention."

"I'm not sure how I feel about eating our fake baby," she replied.

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"Oh wow, you're loud," Priestly muttered.

"He's baking with our fake child," she told him, moderating her volume just a little and having the grace to look a little embarrassed. It was just a bag of flour.

Priestly considered this.

"Dooooooes he still have the wrapper? I'm sure someone here can fake Mr. Rogers' signature on a new bag of flour."

"It's right over there, but I think he might notice," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, if nothing else, isn't the radio gonna report this?"

"Not if we bribe the squirrels with pancakes?"

"That doesn't seem very honest," she said dubiously.

"Well, no. . . . But that's half the fun."

"But what if he finds out we were lying?" she pointed out.

"Then we're probably in for about as much trouble as we would be, anyway?"

It should be noted that Priestly was still hungover. Therefore possibly not the best judge of right and wrong in this instance.

"Or more," she said, shaking her head and eyeing him for a moment. "I always heard that flat soda might help you with that hangover."

"I always heard it was bread and meat. Soak up the leftover alcohol." He blinked. "Whaaaat makes you think I'm hungover?"

Probably the fact that he very clearly was.