Work Text:
Before he moved in with Avdol, Polnareff's schedule was simple. He'd wake up, eat something plain, and continue working on whatever project he was doing. But since moving in with his now husband, things had changed, growing more intricate. That was a good thing though. Mornings were now more enjoyable.
His alarm went off at 6:30. Mornings were the most hectic part of his day. Getting Avdol and himself ready was always a chore, not because his husband was annoying, but because he simply wasn't a morning person. He'd always wake Avdol up with a gentle tap, whispered 'I love you', a soft kiss to forehead and the promise of breakfast.
While Polnareff waited for the other to get up, he'd shower and get dressed. A comfortable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt is what he always went for, unless he had somewhere to go. Working from home was one of the best bonuses of his career, he never had to fuss with what he wore or had a tight schedule, it was relaxing.
Usually Polnareff made breakfast and Avdol made dinner, and vice versa on the weekends. He was a decent cook, knowing the basics and a few recipes, but nothing over the top. Polnareff's go to was a fried egg with some toast because for one: it was filling, and two: they got some good protein from it!
To make the parfait, Polnareff first started with getting the fruit. Blueberries, strawberries and raspberries were finely chopped, the inedible bits tossed aside for the compost. Sometimes Polnareff would get their fruit from the farmer's market. He enjoyed going there and sampling all the fresh produce. It was only a quick walk from their apartment.
Vanilla yogurt and granola were measured out, about two cups of both, then scooped into Mason jars. A layer of yogurt, then granola, and another of yogurt; that repeated until the jar was full. They had a surplus of Mason jars. Their neighborhood didn't recycle glass so Avdol made it his mission to find other ways to deal with all the jars. Cups, plant pots, piggy banks. The jars proved to have many uses.
As he placed fruit slices atop the parfait, Avdol shuffled his way into the kitchen.
"Hungry, Momo?"
"Mph." Avdol never spoke much for the first few minutes, but Polnareff was completely content with carrying the conversation on his own.
"Well, I made something nice for you. Something that'll surely satisfy you!" He stepped aside and motioned to the cream and granola filled jars, waving his arms as if it were a pot of gold. "Daddy think?" Avdol made no comment. "Great, right? I know. It was actually super easy. All I had to do was slice the fruit. I chose some bananas, blueberries, and strawberries-"
Avdol listened as Polnareff went through the process, smiling sleepily as the other gave an in-depth play-by-play. One thing Avdol appreciated about his boyfriend was his passion. Polnareff had a surplus of passion for even the smallest things. He took stride in whatever he was working on, whether it big or small, like a simple breakfast treat. The Egyptian took his seat at the small kitchen table.
"As I said earlier, it's going to be great, I think you'll really like it." Polnareff set down the Mason jar and a mug of coffee in front of Avdol before taking his own seat. He watched and waited for the other to take a bite, wanting input. How did it taste? Was it too heavy on the yogurt? Or maybe the fruits didn't compliment each other?
Avdol took a bite, and took a moment to savor the flavor. The brain fog was beginning to clear. "Mhm," he hummed with an affirming nod, "It's good, Jean. I like it, thank you."
The brief, and rather lackluster review didn't really satisfy him. Polnareff wanted to know more. He motioned for Avdol to continue.
Smiling knowingly, assuming he’d want more, Avdol continued."Well, I really do enjoy how it's not too heavy. The ratio of textures and flavors is well balanced. Nothing sticks out too much, but that's a good thing when it comes to this." He didn't mind sharing more of his opinions with Polnareff, Avdol really liked giving his opinion on things, especially because it didn't fall on deaf ears. Polnareff listened when he spoke. He hadn’t been before, Avdol remembered when Polnareff ignored all feedback, having been so such of himself. And now he was so different. More mature.
With a snicker, he replied, “I knew it! Aren’t I always right, Momo?” A soft grunt was given in return. He picked up the empty jar and took it over to the sink, dumping them in a bath of sudsy water. With breakfast over, their morning routine went onward to its next step: getting Avdol out the door. Polnareff left Avdol alone in the kitchen as he quickly went into the bedroom. He grabbed a white headband and brought it back into the kitchen.
As Avdol worked on finishing the last of his coffee, Polnareff moved to stand behind him. He raised the headband and looped it around the other’s head, brushing the bantu knots out of the way. As he set it in place his finger brushed over the circular scar in the middle of the Egyptian’s forehead. The raised flesh was rough compared to the rest of his forehead. Though he’s seen and touched the old wound countless times, it always brought with it a feeling of pain.
The memories of witnessing Avdol presumably die in front of eyes, and him being at fault for it, were haunting. And then just having to leave his still warm corpse on the filthy, mud ridden ground. He knew that he was completely culpable for it. His selfishness and ignorance were to blame. The guilt.. oh, the guilt was the worst. He knew Avdol deserved better than that. Polnareff had apologized time and time again, but the shame never stopped.
“Mmm, your hands are so cold, ya hayati,” Avdol whispered. He lifted a hand to hold Polnareff’s arm. He knew that Polnareff was plagued with shame, and Avdol understood why it was reasonable. Every single time he’d apologized Avdol had forgiven him, he’d forgiven the Frenchmen before they’d even reunited on that island.
“Sorry,” Polnareff murmured, picking up where he left off and began knotting the headband’s strings.
“All has been forgiven, Jean. There’s no need to dwell on it any further.”
“No, I can’t just let it go,” is how Polnareff wanted to reply. He grit his teeth as he finished the knot, keeping his mouth shut and letting the conversation end there. Silently, he stepped away and left once again, grabbing Avdol’s overcoat from its hook.
Avdol got up and set his coffee mug in the sink before going after Polnareff. As they did every morning, Avdol let Polnareff put his coat on for him. “Thank you,” he said once the other was finished. The door was unlocked and opened, and before Avdol left he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Polnareff’s cheek. “Be good today, I’ll miss you,” Avdol spoke, giving his husband a pat on the cheek where he’d kissed, “No funny business, and I will be home later, okay?” Polnareff nodded, mouth curling into a small smile.
“Bshoofak, Jean.”
Polnareff quickly replied. “Salut, bonne journée, Momo.” He watched Avdol leave, closing the door behind himself. Always did Polnareff bid his husband goodbye, no matter how long he would be gone. Never again would he leave Avdol without a farewell.