Multiverse of Madness - Logs

The facility was still quiet when Sam finally came in from a long run. The sun had been up for almost an hour already and he hadn't been able to stay in bed once the light started invading his room - he'd been awake long before the time his alarm usually went off, and ended up slipping quietly out of the room shortly before six, trainers in hand as he tried not to wake Dean. He felt better for the exercise, endorphins pumping, t-shirt damp around the neck with clean sweat, head clearer after the fresh air.

The trouble with an early run, though, was getting out of the shower afterwards and not having anything much to do. He could have lain back down, he supposed, but he didn't think he'd be any better at not tossing and turning now than he was before.

Instead he ended up in the big communal kitchen mixing up a massive bowl of pancake batter. Most people wouldn't be up to get them fresh off the griddle, but he'd found that the warmers here actually did a surprisingly decent job at keeping things edible. (Yeah, okay, so this wasn't the first time he'd done this. Maybe it was the Southern in him, but there was something satisfying about making something that would nourish people.) Once the stove heated up he was quick to develop a rhythm: pour the batter, set the bowl down, then work on chopping fruit for toppings until it was time to flip them. Soon he'd done his first full stack, moving the plate into the warmer and pulling out a new one.