Work Text:
Patrick’s been up since 5. Couldn’t sleep. Thinking about, you know, last night. Also, nearly two decades of a furry wake up call in the form of a Golden Retriever named Lucy left its mark, and he hasn’t really slept past 6 am since he was a pre-teen, so early mornings are sort of his schtick at this point. Even on long weekends.
But last night. God. There was nothing special about last night, and yet, that’s somehow what made it so special.
The way he and David had moved around each other in the kitchen making dinner and later, cleaning up, casual touches, and brief presses of lips. The comfy outfits they both changed into, before curling up on the couch to watch Muriel’s Wedding. How David fell asleep, tucked into Patrick’s side, and how Patrick had leaned in to kiss his temple and whisper a confession he was certain David did not hear. I love you.
And how the night had ended with no passionate lovemaking, nor nakedness of any sort, actually. Just pure, domestic bliss, with skin care routines, and fresh sleep shirts and boxers, and soft kisses goodnight.
It was perfect. Another one of those all the things you’re supposed to feel kinda moments.
And this morning is kinda perfect, too. Patrick had taken several long moments to memorize the way David looked in his bed - face slack and hair mussed - and the way David shifted to occupy Patrick’s space and burrowed into his pillow, seeking his scent. And then he’d made his way down to the kitchen, where he prepared a cup of tea, content to lean against the counter as morning light began to filter in, and just breathe.
Knowing David wouldn’t wake up for awhile, Patrick let himself enjoy his tea, a scroll through social media, and a few chapters of his latest read, before starting to make Easter breakfast. It’s a little cruel, he knows, to rely on the scent of bacon, or pancakes, or savoury quiche, to rouse his boyfriend, but food is also the most direct pathway to David Rose’s heart, so any momentary grumbling is likely to be worth it for the happy shimmy that David can’t stifle as he dives into breakfast.
This morning, Patrick decides to make cinnamon raisin french toast, thin and crispy bacon, and soft, poached eggs. Combining sweet and savoury may, at times, be incorrect, however, Patrick knows that with this particular combination, David’s last bite is always well planned and executed to include a piece of french toast, with a square of bacon, swiped in egg yolk, and covered in maple syrup.
Patrick’s just set the three-minute timer for the eggs when the sound of slippers on linoleum makes him turn around. His heart clenches at the sight of his boyfriend, and he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face if he tried.
He is risen.