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"Eggsy, darling, time to get up."
"Mrf." Eggsy grunted and burrowed further into the bedding. It was so warm and comfy in his blanket cocoon. Getting up sounded like a terrible idea.
"Eggsy...come now, it's already past noon." A gently hand found Eggsy's hair and stroked through the strands.
Eggsy tried very hard not to purr. But the price was that he followed the hand as it began to pull away. "Nooo."
"Yesss," Harry mocked. With gentle urging he uncovered Eggsy's head from the blanket cocoon. "There we are. What lovely hair you have this morning."
A grunt and snuffle into Harry's palm was Eggsy's response. Then a jaw cracking yawn. "Too early for your shit bruv."
"Tsk, too late for you to be in bed."
"Pfft, says you. Bloody morning people."
"Bloody night owls. Come on, up you get, I have breakfast growing cold downstairs." Harry pulled the blanket off the bed with a flourish. He made sure to take it with him, even as Eggsy swore a blue streak wearing nothing but bed head.
Watching his lover disappear out the bedroom door, Eggsy huffed. Age difference aside they had a few conflicting personality traits. Harry was a clean freak while Eggsy liked a space to feel lived in with a little clutter. Eggsy did his best work at two am while Harry, when off mission, showed his latent narcolepsy about the same time; easily able to fall asleep standing up or staying in one place for any length of time. Harry liked solitude while Eggsy was a social butterfly. The list went on.
But when it all boiled down they were still two very dangerous men who loved each other fiercely.
So while Harry forcing Eggsy out of bed earlier than he wanted was normal, breakfast was not. Eggsy slipped on Harry's red robe, loosely and barely tying it closed, before slouching his way down to the kitchen table. He plopped onto his usual chair and lazily stared at his lover's arse as he shuffled around the counter finishing breakfast.
Eggsy froze. Breakfast. Harry. Harry. Breakfast. Harry cooking breakfast. Oh balls.
"So, uh, you really made breakfast?" The words caught in his throat and just barely squeaked out. Eggsy was too busy sterling his stomach and bowels for what was to come to care that he'd reverted into the start of puberty.
"Yes. It's only fair, you always do the cooking, even after a difficult mission. I really should have done this before. I don't know why I didn't think of it."
'Probably because I did my best to make sure you never considered it.' Eggsy gulped and tried to school his features; including the sweat that had broken out at his temples and between his shoulder blades.
"Ah, dunno luv. I jus' like cookin' is all, yeah? Yunno, why don' I jus' 'elp you out an' —"
"Eggsy I am perfectly capable of cooking a meal for my boyfriend. Now please do shut up and drink your tea. We both know how you get before your first cup."
Sufficiently cowed, and counting the steps from the kitchen to the loo, Eggsy tugged the previously ignored up of tea close and gave it a sip. He would give Harry that, at least. No one else could make such a perfect cup of tea.
"Ah, here we are."
Eggsy sat back as Harry deposited a plate before him. It...it looked like an omelette... A real, honest to god, omelette. With little bits of bacon and green pepper and onion. And...was that cheese on top?
'Wait, don't get your hopes up lad. Remember what happened the last time.' He blanched. Last time had involved charcoal, a stomach pump, and the pitying stares of every other agent at Kingsman — support staff included — for the next month.
"Go on then, dig in!"
Eggsy's dread attempted to evaporate in the face of Harry's excitement. Even knowing what would happen he still broke off a piece with his fork, speared it, and slowly raised it to his mouth. Saliva was already beginning to gather at the back of his mouth in preparation for a quick ejection; the only way to survive Harry’s cooking. Closing his eyes Eggsy stuffed the bit into his mouth — and froze. He blinked, then moved the piece of omelette around with his tongue, poking at it, feeling out the various textures. There was the spongy egg, the smooth pieces of pepper, and the harder bits of thick, cooked bacon. He could taste the slight smoke from the bacon, the bitterness of the green pepper, and the slightly sweet tang of the onion. Eggsy chewed slowly before finally swallowing.
The whole time Harry sat across from him, staring. He was doing his best not to look anxious, anticipatory, but Eggsy knew his lover well enough that he could pick out his subtle tells. The slight pinch to his lower lip where he was biting it, the twitch of a finger, the way his shoulders were a little too straight.
Eggsy calmly put down his fork and stared Harry down.
Harry’s shoulders seemed to slump for half a second before he righted himself. “Well, what do you think?” He leant forward, still hopeful.
“I think...I think it’s really good, actually. When did you learn to make this, Harry?”
The older man sat up straight and preened. “I took lessons. The last few months I attended cooking classes at that grocery down the road.”
“The posh one? That sells pate an’ shit?” Eggsy screwed up his nose while simultaneously scooping up another bite of the fluffy omelette. “Shoulda figured they ‘ah classes.”
“Yes, ‘pate and shit’. They had a variety of courses, but out of all the things I could learn, what was most important to me was being able to cook you a nice breakfast. It’s what you deserve, after all.” Harry’s cheeks had grown hot and he stared down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap.
Eggsy had paused, fork nearly to his mouth. The utensil slipped from his hand to clatter on the table but he didn’t care. He was too busy rounding the table — after falling from his chair — to clamber atop Harry’s lap. With clumsy hands Eggsy yanked Harry forward by the front of his shirt and crushed their mouths together. Harry grasped Eggsy’s hips to keep him from sliding off, kissing back.
When they parted Eggsy nudged their noses together. “I love you, ‘Arry. God yer so damn perfect.”
A breathless laugh, “I’m not perfect Eggsy. But for you, I’m willing to try.”
They kissed again but Harry broke it off to usher Eggsy back into his seat. “Go on, your food is getting cold.”
“Yes dear. Oi, you owe me tha’ story ‘bout those lessons yeah?”
“Oh no, that embarrassment is one I will take to the grave.”
“Hmm,” Eggsy hummed around a mouthful of omelette. “We’ll see.”