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taterswithranch · 1 year

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Breakfast Gone Wrong

Another Jasmine and Dexter oneshot that I’ve had sitting in my docs for a long time hdjsksk

I actually made a doodle for this awhile back hdjsk

Jasmine was usually the first one awake. The owl lady didn’t need as much sleep as the average person. She was always up way before Dexter was, since three in the morning when he asked her.

So it was rather unusual when Dexter woke up at seven and saw that she wasn’t in the kitchen making breakfast like she usually was. He looked around the house, checking the pantry, the bathroom, and the living room. Stella, Jasmine’s pit bull, watched him curiously as he did so.

No Jasmine anywhere.

“Is… is she not here?” he asked Stella. The dog only tilted her head at him. A tangle of nerves settled in the pit of his stomach. Where is she?

He ran up and down the hall, his long tail swishing nervously. Jasmine was always up before he was. Even if she “slept in,” she would still be up a good two to three hours before Dexter.

He bit his lip as he made another round down the hall. Except, this time he noticed the door to Jasmine’s bedroom was open a small crack. He carefully squeezed his head through. Relief flushed through his system as he saw the bulk of Jasmine’s form gently rise and fall with every breath in the darkness of the room.

Okay. She’s still asleep.

…

She’s… still asleep?

His eyes darted over to the desk in the corner of her room. He could vaguely make out stacks of papers scattered across the surface. Dexter carefully shut the door and returned to the living room.

“Must’ve been a rough night,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the floor. “Guess I could make cereal?”

He spared a glance towards the kitchen. Living on the streets his entire life left no opportunity for Dexter to use any kitchen appliances, let alone see many of them. He knew the obvious things like a microwave and frying pan, but other than those he could only name a few of the items in Jasmine’s kitchen: big spoon, bigger spoon, teeny tiny spoon, really flat spoon, and clippy things. But he’d seen Jasmine use all of them so many times with such ease. How hard could it be? Jasmine would be so proud of him. And now he was really craving bacon and eggs…

Dexter grinned to himself and rolled up his sleeves. “Yeah, how hard can it be?”

———

“So, uh, how much does she put in here?” Dexter asked Stella who was standing in the doorway. He had retrieved a package of bacon strips, four eggs, and two pieces of bread, racking his memory on how to prepare them. Stella blinked back at him, but otherwise showed no sign of an answer. He sighed, eyeing the bottle of oil in his padded hand. He had set up a pan on one of the burners.

Dexter recalled Jasmine holding the same bottle and drizzling it over the pan. “Ah, screw it,” he muttered, coating the entire base of the pan in a hearty layer of cooking oil. “The more the better, right?” he said enthusiastically. Stella whined and pawed at her nose. Dexter rolled his white eyes. “What do you know? I don’t ever see you in the kitchen whenever she’s cooking.” Stella huffed at him and returned to her bed in the living room. Dexter gawked at the dog’s audacity before returning his attention to the stove. He turned the dial between the letters “M” and “H.” Whatever those mean, he thought to himself.

He set the bottle down and took out two slices of bacon, nestling them next to each other on the pan. They immediately started to hiss. Dexter flinched back, his eyes wide. Why did it sound so… aggressive?

Doesn’t matter. It’s all good, right? Dexter nodded triumphantly and took the two pieces of bread. Surely he could use a toaster. He’s never actually touched the thing, but Jasmine made it look easy enough. Just stick the bread in the thing and- and… There was a knob near the base of the toaster. “What does that do?” he mumbled. He twisted it a few times to the left, then back to the right some more. Nothing seemed to happen. He shrugged and fitted the bread in each of the two slits, pressing down on the handle on the front. From inside, he could see the metal wiring inside turn a vibrant red. He grinned.

“Ha! See! I can use a toaster!” he declared, confidently turning in Stella’s general direction. He looked back at the bacon and saw the oil bubbling around the strips. Jasmine once told him that bacon didn’t take too long to cook. He grabbed a pair of clippy things from a drawer and carefully pried the bacon off the pan.

Suddenly, something hot singed his arm. Dexter yelped and dropped the clippy things on the counter, grabbing at the spot that burned. But it was gone. Just as it had come, it disappeared just as fast. There was a loud crackle then a pop from the pan, and something hot spat on his arm once more. Dexter inhaled sharply and rubbed at the spot. What? He looked back at the bacon. It bubbled and hissed angrily. “Is- Is this what Jazzy means when she says ‘this bacon is spittin’?” he asked aloud. The bacon was spitting hot oil on him. Great. Just great.

Dexter swallowed hard. This just made things a thousand times harder. He picked up the clippy things and cautiously approached the hissy pan from the side, carefully slipping the clippy things under a bacon strip. He quickly flipped the bacon over and immediately backed away from the pan as a string of loud hissing and crackling gave way. He held his breath, waiting for it to die down. A sigh of relief passed his lips. Man…

Now for the other one. Dexter took a deep breath, reaching for the other strip while leaning back as far as he could. In one swift motion, he quickly flipped the bacon over onto the pan, jumping away as it fizzed and bubbled. The top was entirely blackened. Dexter’s heart dropped. He cursed under his breath at the sight of the charred meat. And just when I was doing so good.

Along with the smell of burned bacon, a new scent lingered in the air, making Dexter wrinkle his nose. He followed the scent and felt adrenaline rush through his veins as he saw a thick stream of smoke curling around the toaster.

“No no no no no,” he murmured as he ran over. He tried to examine the damage, but the smoke burned his eyes too much to see anything. Taking a deep breath, Dexter lifted the collar of his shirt above his mouth and nose, reaching around the toaster and unplugging it. The reddened wiring inside dimmed, gradually fading back to a dull grey. He sighed.

A round of aggressive hissing and popping returned his attention to the bacon on the stove. Dexter jumped and skidded over, grabbing the clippy things and trying to turn the bacon over. His hands were shaky and unsteady, and the strip he had picked up dropped back on the pan, splashing oil in every direction.

And right into Dexter’s face.

The digidevil yelped and tried to wipe where the oil had touched him, trying to grab the counter for support. His hand landed on something hot and scorching, the nerves singing in pain. A loud and anguished scream ripped from his throat as he immediately cradled his injured hand to his chest, falling back onto the floor. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes. His chest tightened as he felt heavy sobs trying to escape. Why was everything going so wrong?

He heard footsteps quickly approaching, a familiar voice calling his name. “Dex?! Where are you? What’s wrong?”

Jasmine.

Dexter could see her entering the kitchen. She gasped at the sight of the burning food and Dexter huddled on the floor. She rushed over and quickly turned off the stove, moving the pan to an inactive burner. “Dex!” She knelt down and brought him close to her chest. “Dex, are you okay?” Her voice was concerned yet calm.

Dexter whimpered and curled into her warmth, unable to stop the flow of tears. Jasmine gently rubbed his back and murmured words of assurance.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again. “You alright?”

Dexter flinched and stiffened. Well, she’s gonna notice sooner or later, he thought. As humiliating as it was, he hesitantly showed her the burn on his hand. A mark of his failure. Jasmine inhaled sharply. Dexter refused to make eye contact, too ashamed to look at her.

She carefully took the back of his hand in hers and looked it over. “It doesn’t look too bad,” she concluded. Dexter looked up at her with large round eyes. Jasmine smiled softly and patted his back. “C’mon. It’ll help if we run it under cold water.” She helped him stand and led him over to the sink. She turned it on and adjusted it so the pressure was gentle.

Dexter flinched and let out a strangled yelp as the water made contact with the burn. But the effect was instantaneous. The water was cool to the touch and eased the angry heat in his hand.

Jasmine rubbed his shoulder. “Just keep it under there. I’ll get you an ice pack,” she said. Dexter nodded and watched as she retrieved the dinosaur-shaped pack from the freezer. She wrapped it in a thin towel and brought it back over, turning off the sink. “Try this,” she instructed, handing the ice pack to him.

Dexter winced as he cautiously pressed it against his palm, but the cold seeped into his hand, settling the aggravated injury. He sighed and looked up at the owl lady. “Thanks,” he said with a grateful smile.

Jasmine returned the gesture and playfully ruffled the thin layer of fur on his head. “It’s no problem at all!” She turned around and surveyed the mess in the kitchen. Dexter tensed, shrinking into himself. “What happened here?” she asked. Her tone held no anger or malice. It was simply a question.

A dark blue blush crept along Dexter’s cheeks. “I, um, I tried to- tried to make breakfast,” he stuttered quietly, shifting his weight in embarrassment.

Jasmine’s expression softened. “Aww sweet pea!” she laughed, hugging him to her side. “Sorry for sleeping in. You should’ve woken me up!”

With his uninjured hand, Dexter fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t want to. You looked tired,” he replied sheepishly. “And I wanted to surprise you.”

Jasmine cooed and hugged him tighter. “Aren’t you just a sweet little thing!” She cupped his face in her hands and planted a small kiss on his forehead, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Dexter hummed and felt a stupid smile tug at the corners of his mouth, his tail wagging and a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.

Jasmine released his face, and a part of Dexter was tempted to grab her hands and put them back. “I’ll clean up here. You can go sit. Then I’ll make breakfast!” Dexter nodded eagerly and plopped himself down on one of the chairs at the kitchen island, watching as she cleaned up his mess. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it.

Jasmine first looked at the pan on the stove, using the clippy things to peel the ruined strips of bacon off. She wrinkled her nose. “How much oil did you use?” she asked.

Dexter shrugged. “Dunno. Just covered the entire pan.” Jasmine suddenly burst out laughing, and Dexter felt another flush crawl up his neck.

“Sweet pea, you’re just supposed to drizzle a little bit on there. The bacon’s already got a lot of grease on it,” she explained, placing his attempts in a paper towel and throwing them away.

Then, she shifted her focus to the toaster. The smoke had already cleared, allowing her to peer inside. Jasmine tilted her head and grabbed another paper towel, turning the toaster upside down directly above it. Ash poured out of it like black sand. There was no bread left. Dexter could see Jasmine’s shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. She coughed into her fist and put the toaster back down. “You put it on the highest setting,” she stated, unable to contain the stray giggles that bubbled in her chest. She pointed to the dial which was set to a number eight, setting it to a three. “I usually keep it around three or four. Gives it that nice crunch.” Dexter nodded, desperately trying to will the blush on his face to settle back down.

Jasmine leaned on the edge of the counter to face him. “Tell ya what. If you want, when your hand is feeling better, maybe I can show you everything I know about cooking,” she suggested. “Then you can start helping me in the kitchen!”

Dexter straightened up in his seat. “Really?!” he asked excitedly.

Jasmine nodded. “Yeah! Just you and me!” She noticed the eggs left untouched near the stove and grabbed them. She took out a clean pan and turned on the burner, cracking an egg over the pan and letting it sizzle. She pulled out a really flat spoon from the drawer and carefully poked the egg around. “Oh, and you set the burner almost at high. I try to keep it around medium low so it doesn’t burn as fast.”

Dexter hummed and made another mental note in his head.

———

The rest of the morning was relatively calmer now that the disaster Dexter had caused had been dealt with and resolved. Now Dexter lay curled up on Jasmine’s lap in the living room, warm and full of not-burned-and-absolutely-ruined bacon, eggs, and toast. He positioned himself so that his injured hand was cradled to his chest with the ice pack settled on it without aggravating it any further.

He watched as Jasmine had pulled up cooking videos on the TV for them to watch, occasionally asking the owl lady of the different materials and techniques used. She happily answered his questions as best she could (so apparently the really flat spoon is called a spatula and the clippy things are called tongs. Huh).

At some point, Jasmine started to rub small circles on his back. Dexter couldn’t help the purr that vibrated in his chest, but he made no attempts to stop it. He snuggled up closer to Jasmine with a content sigh.

Life was good.

#writing thing #ocs #oc: dexter #oc: jasmine

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