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The backpack had been shed and lay forgotten by the front door, morning light streamed through the windows, illuminating the lounge in a soft glow, the curtains hadn't been closed, Bilbo's cup of tea, freshly made just before Thorin made his grand entrance last night, sat stone cold on the counter in the kitchen. Bilbo let out a little mewling groan as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He didn't want to be awake, even if the view that greeted him was one he thoroughly enjoyed.
Bilbo realised, as he rolled towards the very warm, still sleeping form of Thorin, that he had always been the last to wake whenever the two of them shared a bed. He drank in the sight of mussed, silver streaked, black hair splayed across his pillow, the sound of soft, deep breathing that escaped from barely parted lips, the way one of his hands losely gripped the duvet. When Bilbo reached over to move a lock of Thorin's hair out of his face he absently wondered if he ever just watched him while he slept.
Thorin was always out of bed and pottering about in the kitchen, fixing breakfast or making coffee, by the time Bilbo managed to drag himself into some vague sense of consciousness. He smiled when the subject of his scrutiny huffed in his sleep. Bilbo sat up, careful not to disturb the covers, and scooted out of bed. It was his turn to greet Thorin with a smile and breakfast waiting.
After pulling some boxers on, Bilbo tip toed to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. He prepared the mugs, measuring out instant coffee granules, along with two teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk for Thorin, with a grimace. Bilbo knew he would never measure up to Thorin's coffee making skills, he much preferred tea, but he needed a strong caffeine kick in the morning, something only a strong black coffee could provide.
Bilbo had to stop in the doorway of his bedroom when he made his way back with Thorin's drink. He had moved again and it had caused the duvet to slip down his body, revealing his bare chest, the coarse, black hair scattered across it almost inviting Bilbo to run his hands across the firm expanse as he had done so freely last night. Instead, he exhaled loudly through his nose, carefully made his way into the bedroom and set the steaming cup of coffee on the bedside table, then went to his side of the bed to collect his phone.
After a few test shots, Bilbo finally got a picture of the slumbering man in his bed he was happy with, a small smile played at his lips as he wandered back to the kitchen. He took a sip of his own drink before sticking a caption on the picture and posting it to Instagram. "My spelling must be getting worse, I ordered pancakes for breakfast and got this instead #mancake"
Bilbo's smile fell when he opened the fridge door and all hopes of a nice, cooked breakfast went out the window. His usually stocked fridge was all but empty, there was some milk, butter, a carton of leftover take out and a few vegetables. With a frown Bilbo shut the door and put his hands on his hips, he could always make toast. It wasn't the full english he dreamed of making for Thorin, but it was better than nothing.
Arms snaked around Bilbo's waist as he stood buttering toast, the sudden warmth at his back and sharp weight on his shoulder as Thorin rested his chin there made him lean back into the embrace. The feel of heated, bare skin against his own naked back was heavenly. They stayed like that until all of the toast had a liberal amount of butter spread over them, when the time came to move Thorin pressed a light kiss to the shell of his ear before detaching himself, picking up a couple of pieces of toast, placing them on one of the plates Bilbo had set on the counter and heading back towards the bedroom.
Slightly confused, Bilbo trailed after him with his own plate in hand. "Where are you going?" He asked as he hovered in the doorway.
Thorin turned around, an almost shy look upon his face as he deposited his plate on the bedside cabinet. "I thought we could have breakfast in..." His voice trailed off as Bilbo felt his expression turn from confused to one of mild, but conflicted, irritation. "What is it?" Thorin asked carefully.
"Crumbs." Bilbo said very, very quietly.
Thorin blinked. "Crumbs?"
"Yes, crumbs." He cleared his throat and looked away from Thorin. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but it was something Bilbo just could not abide. When he looked back, the expression on Thorin's face, one of barely contained laughter, made him flush. "But, oh!"
Bilbo thrust his plate at Thorin, leaving him no choice but to take it, then gathered the duvet in his arms and hurried into the lounge. He dumped it on the sofa with a self satified smile and ushered a thoroughly amused looking Thorin over and lifted a corner of the duvet so he could sit. Once he was settled, Bilbo gathered what remained of their drinks and joined Thorin in the make shift nest.
Eating was a relatively silent affair, Bilbo had switched the television on to some morning news channel, they made the odd comment about this or that story, but otherwise they were content to steep in the sheer domesticity of the situation. It wasn't anything new, but it was a nice feeling to know neither of them had to rush off to work, Bilbo himself had no clients until the afternoon and Thorin had the boys to open the flower shop. Instead, they could just relax and soak in each others warmth.
Once breakfast was done and the plates were out of the way, they just lounged against each other. Thorin's head ended up on Bilbo's chest, he threaded his fingers through the long hair that just begged to be touched. As he plaited a few of the strands together he felt, rather than heard, the long, contented sound of a sigh rumble through Thorin's chest. In that golden light of morning, Bilbo couldn't help but wonder why it had taken so long. When Thorin reached up to catch one of Bilbo's hands in his own, he just knew he would never let it go.