Egg Bombs for Breakfast   von Alaiya
                              (Osteraktion 2022)
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                            Egg Bombs for Breakfast
                            -----------------------


“Papi?” The word just barely made it through Trevor’s conscience.
“Papi?” Someone climbed onto the bed and judging by the weight it had to be
Simon, who was growing up way too fast.
The blanket was drawn back and a pause followed. “Where is papi?”
“Out,” Trevor grumbled before trying to get that darn blanket back.
He was out of luck, though, because someone else was climbing onto the bed, only
to jump on it, miraculously not hitting any legs of the three adults inside.
“We are hungry!” that was undoubtedly Freng. “We are hungry! Hungry!
Hungry! Hungry!”
Trevor groaned. The upside of being a vampire was, you would always know the
time of day. And the time of day was “before fucking eight in the morning”
right now, so, really, no time to get up. “Wait till the bastard comes
back,” he muttered.
Sypha was moving, too. Her eyes probably still closed, she hit him. “You
go.”
“No,” he grumbled, trying to get that darn blanket back.
Another hand hit him. “Yeah, you should go,” Greta muttered, making him
groan.
“For fuck’s sake! Can a vampire not once sleep in on the day.”
“No,” both women muttered, as Trevor opened his eyes and got up.
It was not really surprising, that all three boys were here. Simon, Freng and
Ilias, the first of them looking almost the same age as the latter two, despite
being almost three years younger. “Can’t you wait for another hour?”
“No!” Simon and Freng protested, as Simon now jumped on Trevor lap.
“Breakfast!”
“Ugh.” Yet, he found himself outvoted, skuttling down to the end of the bed,
given that he had been in between the two women – with Greta towards the end
of her pregnancy right now. Which was, according to her, absolutely his
responsibility.
“Papa!” Simon said, grabbing his hand, as Trevor was still trying to deal
with the trauma of waking up. “Come on now.”
“Give me a minute, at least.”
“No!” Freng replied. “Hungry!”
Ilias was standing by the door, looking at Trevor expectantly, though not quite
daring to be as forceful about it.
“What about you?” Trevor asked. “Are you hungry, too?”
Ilias just nodded.
“Oh, I fucking hate my life,” Trevor groaned, before standing up from the
bed, rubbing his eyes and looking for his trousers. He was not even certain,
when Adrian had slipped out of bed or where he had gone. Probably doing some
work. Maybe baking bread or something? He was not entirely certain. But the only
thing that really was important right now, was, that he was not there, leaving
Trevor to take care of those hungry children.
He slipped out of his night gown and into his trousers and tunic, though the
later really needed to be washed some time soon. Already Simon had taken his
right hand again, with Freng holding the left one and both of them trying to
drag him along.
“I am a fucking vampire,” he grumbled. “Can I not sleep in one day?”
“No!” Both boys screamed and chuckled.
“Oh hell…” He yawned, still very much of the opinion that the entire idea
of vampires not needing to sleep had to be a fucking myth. He did not care if
the old geezer did not sleep, that was bloody Dracula and he was Trevor Belmont
so they were clearly not the same and maybe, if the old man had slept a bit
more, he would’ve felt less genocidal. “Let me at least go to the bath room
first,” he muttered.
“No!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I need cold water and I need to fucking pee,
alright?”
Simon looked at him with a serious gaze. “But you can’t take long! Because
we are starving.”
“Your father once went like half a bloody year without eating, you know
that?”
Simon frowned. “Papi is weird.”
“Oh, yeah, he fucking is.” Yet, somehow Trevor managed to shuffle towards
the bathroom, though even here he was not allowed any time off, as all three
boys just followed along, brabbling as it was.
Trevor was just fucking thankful, that the bath room had tainted glass, making
it easy to use them even in daylight. Because even though it was almost winter,
the sun was already rising in the east.
Even washed up and everything, he did not feel very alive, though. And things
did not get any better as he – followed by three ankle biters – left the
bathroom, only to find his daughter outside.
“Are you making breakfast?” she asked. Like the boys, she was still in her
night gown.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” he groaned.
“Great,” she replied. “I want Blinchiki.”
“Of course you do.”
“No!” Ilias protested. “I want bread.”
“Well, I won’t fucking make bread right now.”
“I want cheese!” his brother threw in, while Trevor just shuffled along
towards the kitchen.
“What do you need me for, then?” Trevor groaned. “You can just take some
cheese, right?”
“I want melted cheese,” Freng corrected himself.
“Oh my fucking God.” He looked at his son. “What about you?”
Simon thought for a moment. “Omu!” Which was his way of saying omelet.
Trevor sighed. “Look, you all have to agree on what to eat. I am not making
different things for everyone.”
“Well, I asked for Blinchiki first!” Marie said.
“But we asked for breakfast before you did,” Freng replied.
“Yeah, we asked first,” Simon agreed.
“You can eat your cheese with Blinchiki.”
“No way!” Freng replied. “That would be weird.”
They continued to bicker like this, making Trevor once more question all his
life’s decision, that had led up to this point. It was to fucking early to
deal with this. And where had Adrian gone? He would be the one to normally do
breakfast. (Well, if Trevor managed to graciously evade the task, that was.) He
was fairly certain Adrian had muttered some explanation, when he had gotten up,
but what kind of explanation that had been? He was not certain.
Things got only more chaotic, though, as he arrived at the kitchen, only to find
two kids, that were at least a bit older here. Murgu and Sântion. They were at
least somewhat self-sufficient, being dressed for one thing, but also having
just gotten some of the bread from the last day, while trying to cut pieces off
from a large chunk of smoked bacon.
“Trevor!” Sântion’s eyes lit up. “Are you making breakfast.”
Trevor was only glad that at least the curtains in the kitchen were drawn. He
yawned again. “It appears I am. If they are going to agree on what is for
breakfast.”
The argument so far had not been resolved.
“But I want Blinchiki!” Marie whined.
“That would be unhealthy,” Ilias offered in a tone, that was just not
befitting a fucking five-year-old.
“I don’t fucking care,” Marie protested.
“Adrian said, that there will be biscuits for breakfast,” Murgu now said.
“Well, I won’t be making fucking biscuits,” Trevor groaned, as the dough
was a fucking hassle.
“He actually had prepared some.”
Trevor blinked slowly. “He had?”
Murgu just nodded, getting up from his chair and running over to the pantry
room, getting a rather large bowl of somewhat chilled dough out of there.
“I want Blinchiki though!”
“And cheese!”
“And omu!”
Trevor groaned. He very much did not look forward to the time, when little Anna
would be further grown and whatever kid or kids Greta was cooking would join in
the fold. Because this was already stressful as fuck.
All he wanted, was to go back to sleep for at least four more hours. He had only
been in bed around three in the morning and he just did not fucking care that
the old geezer had said that vampires did not need to sleep. Trevor did need his
bloody sleep. (The fact that Anna was crying every two hours or so, had not
helped a lot.)
“Papa!” Marie whined.
“Papa!” Simon joined in.
“Uncle Trevor!” The twins agreed.
Just Murgu and Sântion did not complain. But even now, about four years – or
was it five? – after getting them from the streets of Targoviste, they were
rather frugal, when it came to food.
“You know what?” he finally decided, knowing that Adrian very much would not
love the idea he was having right now.
“What?” four kids asked.
“I am gonna make filled biscuits,” he replied. “With omelet and cheese and
bacon…” He looked at his daughter. “And some with fruits, so it is
basically almost like blinchiki.”
Marie was pouting, but that was to be expected. Really, right now he blamed
Adrian for this. They had just spoiled those kids with food. Clearly. Had been
hard enough to keep Marie fed during that half year in England.
“Are we all good with that?” he looked at the three small boys, and while
they were pouting as well, they nodded.
“Great.” He went over to the kitchen drawer and got a spoon out of there,
then got a bowl and a whisk and some eggs. After a moment he realized he had an
opportunity, handing bowl and whisk to the two teenagers. “Murgu. You are
gonna whisk some eggs. Sântion…” He looked at the rather unevenly cut
bacon. Jesus, the two were like fourteen and fifteen years old. They should be
able to do better. “You are gonna cut some pieces off the bacon and the
cheese.”
“We don’t have any eggs,” Sântion piped up, leading Trevor to groan as
well.
“Fine. Then one of you goes to fetch eggs first,” he said.
“I wanna go, too!” Marie announced.
“And take Marie along.”
“I can go,” Murgu offered, leading Trevor to nod. “You do that.” He did
not even consider that Marie was still in her night gown, until the two of them
had long vanished out the kitchen door, allowing him to fall into a chair with a
long groan.
He watched Sântion try and cut the bacon into even pieces, before sighing and
getting up again. “You are holding the knife wrong,” he said and showed him
– not for the first time. “Here, try it like this.” He took the knife with
a slacker grip and showed the boy how to cut the bacon. He was half aware of
Simon climbing onto one of the chairs.
“I want to hold the knife, too!”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.” He turned back to Sântion.
“Try it again?”
Sântion always had a very tense grip, when he was holding a knife, keeping it
in his hand in a way, that made Trevor wonder, if the boy was going to cut bacon
or stab someone to death. He tried, now, though, to hold it the way Trevor had
shown him, managing to cut the bacon still unevenly, but into better chunks.
“How long until we can eat?” Freng now asked.
“Till Murgu and Marie are back with the eggs,” he replied. “You have to
wait for so long.”
“But I am starving!”
This got Trevor to groan. “Kid. You do not even know what that means.”
“It means, I am really hungry!”
“You don’t know what ‘really hungry’ means either,” Trevor scoffed,
leading to the boy to cross his arms.
“I do though.”
Sântion looked at him. “You don’t.”
“You are stupid,” the five-year-old announced.
“And you are annoying,” Sântion replied.
“Kids. Please stop arguing.” Trevor sighed, rubbing his temples. “Just…
Please stop.” He got up to get the cheese from the pantry, cutting this one
himself into dices, before waiting for his daughter and Murgu to return as well.
It took quite a while, though, until both marched back into the kitchen, hay
somehow hanging in their hair but with a basket filled with eight eggs.
“You had a fight with the chicken or something?” Trevor asked, leading his
daughter to pull herself onto one of the chairs.
“You have no fucking idea!” she muttered.
He grinned, before taking the basket. “I guess I will beat them.” Because
otherwise it would take even longer.
So he cracked those eggs on the side of the bowl, easily mixing them with the
cut bacon and cheese and some salt and pepper.
“Can I help you somehow?” Murgu asked, making Trevor think.
“Actually… You can take some of the dough…” He stopped what he was doing
to get that dough. “Like this,” he said, showing the other boy his plan. He
took a spoon full of the dough, pressing it into his hand, making a hole in it,
before spooning some of the preserved berries from last summer into that hole.
“Can you do that?”
Murgu nodded.
“And you,” he addressed Sântion. “Can you get a fire going in the
stove?”
The other boy nodded as well, getting up from his chair and walking over to the
stove. Because at least he had learned those basic fire spells that Sypha had
insisted to teaching each and every kid, saying it would help them survive.
Sure enough, there was a fire going in no time, as Trevor did go over to the
stove and got a pan and put it over the heat. He did exactly the same he had
showed Murgu with the preserved fruits with the dough and the egg mixture, while
waiting for the pan to come up to heat.
“When is this gonna be ready?” Simon asked.
“Just another few minutes,” Trevor muttered, already knowing that a fight
would break out about who was going to get to eat first.
He put some butter into the pan, letting it melt and bubble, before putting in
some of the fruit filled biscuits and some of the egg filled ones. He still very
much did not feel awake, but, well, at least the kids would soon hopefully stop
squabbling, when their mouth would be filled with food. Given how at least Marie
and Ilias were rather slow eaters, while Simon and Freng tended to agree on most
things, it would hopefully calm things down considerably.
He turned the biscuits in the pan, rather proud of himself that the contents
were not exploding out from the dough, before turning around. “I have four for
the first round. Two filled with berries, two with eggs, cheese and bacon.”
“I am taking a berry one!” Marie yelled.
“Yeah, I thought that much.”
“I don’t want berries,” Freng pouted.
“That I thought as well.”
“I will take another berry one,” Sântion said.
“Great.” Trevor looked at the three young boys. “You three can argue who
is gonna get the two egg ones. The other will have to wait till the next
round.”
And argue they did.
But in the end, all kids had something in front of them by the time that Adrian
came into the kitchen, his hair bound back into a queue. Some more kids had
joined the fray as well, as Coman, Temul and the latter’s younger sister had
joined in as well.
“What is happening here?”
“Breakfast,” Simon announced, some cheesy omelet dripping over his chin.
“I just wanted to make biscuits.” Adrian went over to the stove, where
Trevor was still baking those filled thingies. “What did you do?”
“Trying to make everyone happy,” Trevor muttered, before turning to kiss his
husband onto the cheek. “Basically just that.” He grumbled, not having
gotten around to eat something himself. “Where were you?”
“Stitching someone up,” Adrian replied.
“Well, I was left alone with an army of ankle biters.”
Adrian grinned. “My poor man.”
“You can say that loud.”
“Well, do I get one of those things as well?”
“Sure,” Trevor said. “Next round is ours.”
Adrian smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

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