Work Text:
Eobard wakes up to sunlight peeking through the curtains of his fourth story apartment. Dust swirls in the beams of light and brushes over the rumpled sheets. From the position of the sun, it's still mid-morning.
The scent of sizzling bacon wafts down the hallway from the kitchen. Eobard blinks sleepily. He listens to the cabinets creak, the cutlery drawer clank, the refrigerator door swing open and closed. The sound of a fork scraping against a ceramic bowl, over and over.
He thinks about staying in bed. He's very comfortable. He can call his grad student slash TA, Alexa, and tell her he came down with something. She could handle the undergrads for a day. He could stay in bed all day if he wants, dozing and relaxing the entire time.
He hears another noise, this time a clatter and a sharp curse.
Eobard sighs and gets out of bed
He walks down the hallway, treading lightly on the carpet. Each step is a smooth, rolling motion; he's making as little sound as possible. Despite this, a pair of big brown eyes snap immediately to his the moment he steps in the kitchen.
Barry smiles around the finger he has stuck in his mouth. Eobard gives his hand an interested look, and Barry pulls it out and waves it in response.
“Moving too fast. Cut myself.”
“Too fast, huh?” Eobard says wryly. Barry rolls his eyes.
“Har har. So funny.”
Eobard smiles, amused, and opens the cabinet above the sink. He grabs the “World's Worst Professor” mug Alexa had gotten him and starts up the coffee maker. On second thought, he grabs another mug, because -
“Could you make me a cup too?”
Eobard hides another smile. So predictable.
“Why should I?” he says, just to be an ass. Barry scowls at him, clearly aware that he's just being difficult, and starts re-chopping the bell peppers.
“It just tastes better when you make it. Besides, I'm getting all this stuff ready for breakfast burritos. I'm too busy to make my own.”
“Wah, wah, wah,” Eobard says mockingly. He removes his mug from the coffee maker and lines the other mug up underneath it. He starts the machine. “I don't have time to make my own coffee even though I have super-speed. Woe is me, woe is me.”
“He says, making me a cup of coffee anyways .”
Eobard takes a sip of his coffee, makes a face, and sets it down. He gets the sugar out of the cupboard by the stove, touching Barry's hip as he passes. Barry hums in response.
There's a moment, in the space between breaths, where everything gets a little bit lighter.
“Breakfast burritos,” Eobard says, pouring a liberal amount of sugar into his mug. “Are the least dignified of the breakfast foods.”
Barry turns to the stove and pours a mixture of eggs, cheese, and milk into the pan waiting on the burner.
“More for me, I guess.”
“Hey, now. I never said I didn't want any.”
“Mm, I don't know,” Barry says, turning to Eobard and lacing his arms around the other man's waist. Barry leans in, brushing his lips against his. “It might not be fancy enough for you. If it's so undignified.”
“I'll show you undignified,” Eobard growls, seizing Barry's hips and hoisting him up. He pushes him onto the counter by the stove and groans into Barry's mouth.
Barry laughs in response, a breathless little chuckle that can almost be classified a giggle. He pulls back and pecks Eobard, once, on the lips.
“I have to - stop it - I have to, mm, watch the eggs.”
“They're not going anywhere.”
Barry paws at Eobard's chest, not quite pushing, but putting space between them nonetheless.
“Cmon, I don't want them to burn.”
Eobard pulls away, mouthing at Barry's jaw, breathing in his scent. He can feel Barry's fluttering heartbeat pounding beneath his lips. They pause, for a moment, silent.
“Coffee?” Eobard says. Barry nods, his auburn hair brushing softly against him.
“Coffee.”