Work Text:
Cup 5
He woke up to the smell of coffee.
Fraser didn't make coffee often; most mornings Fraser was gone long before Kowalski woke up. There was a lot to be said for having a partner who genuinely enjoyed getting up hours before the sun six days a week to take their kid to hockey practice.
Vecchio made coffee, sure, alternating weeks with Kowalski. Stumbling into the kitchen to make a cup was just ... morning. Not special.
Waking up to coffee in bed was like waking up to presents on Christmas when you didn't even know it was time for Christmas.
Cup 1
The first time Fraser made him coffee was early in their search for the Hand of Franklin. Fraser had made a convincing argument in favor of one large sleeping bag that let them share Fraser's abundant body heat.
It was great for sleeping, but meant he woke up alone on hard ground to freezing air, noisy dogs, sounds of boots on crunchy snow -- and outerwear two feet away.
Then Fraser brought a pot of coffee into the tent and surprised Kowalski with sugar cubes that weren't on the packing list and a smile as bright as the midnight sun.
Cup 2
Kowalski slept late on their first morning in their house. The queen mattress on the floor felt amazing after months on the ground. He'd expected Fraser to launch into a speech about the importance of rising early, but he hadn't.
Instead Fraser let him sleep. When Kowalski got up at 11, he stumbled into the kitchen to find it unpacked and perfectly organized, his favorite mug and a pack of Smarties on the counter. Fraser was wearing his oldest, softest jeans, jeans that clung to him like second skin.
The coffee was cold before Kowalski found time to drink it.
Cup 3
A couple of years after Fraser and Kowalski bought the house, Vecchio came to visit for a week.
The first morning Vecchio was there, Kowalski woke up to the sounds of Vecchio cooking breakfast. Kowalski stumbled into the kitchen, hair askew, still half-asleep.
Fraser made coffee like it was an art. For Fraser, it probably was. Vecchio, though, made coffee like a cop. Kowalski had stopped drinking precinct coffee after six months of Fraser's coffee; he'd almost forgotten the heavy scorched taste.
Vecchio's visit ended four months later when his stuff arrived from Florida and he officially moved into the guest room.
Cup 4
Coffee in bed had become a thing Fraser did on special occasions. Well, they were special to Fraser. Like the year Fraser decided to celebrate St. Crispin's Day. It had taken many hours of massages and naps and great sex (and one naked Shakespeare recitation) before Fraser would tell why a battle almost 600 years ago marked a milestone in their relationship.
Apparently it had been on St. Crispin's Day ten years earlier that Vecchio had brought tea and coffee to Kowalski and Fraser and announced he was moving from the guest bedroom into their room.
Band of brothers, indeed.
Cup 5, again
It was almost spring, but the Chicago weather didn't know that. It wasn't anyone's birthday and their anniversary was Canada Day, so that wasn't it. Leslie had stayed overnight with a hockey friend and was spending the day with the team, so it was probably the kind of Fraser-occasion that led to many excellent orgasms. Vecchio wasn't in bed, so he was probably in on whatever Fraser had planned.
Maybe when he drank the coffee he'd be able to figure it out. Because one time, he would figure it out before Fraser had to tell him. One day, he would.
Cup, No Coffee
Once Vecchio and Kowalski had teamed up to surprise Fraser with breakfast in bed. They read all 366 Wikipedia articles for day of the year, they checked the Jewish and Muslim calendars, they even cross-checked with the Julian calendar before identifying a suitable day for surprising Fraser.
The night before, Kowalski had pretended he couldn't sleep, and he stayed up watching infomercials until 2:30, when he woke up Vecchio, who had said he needed to sleep alone because his bullet wound was aching.
At 2:45 Fraser received a phone call. Every year since, they'd celebrated that day as Leslie's birthday.
Cup 5, Finally Drunk
It was excellent coffee, but curiosity won. Kowalski went downstairs to find Fraser and Vecchio cooking. Bacon and eggs, waffles and hash browns, plus oatmeal for Fraser. The table was set. Everything looked good and he was hungry, but it all seemed ordinary.
Kowalski got more curious the longer breakfast went on. Fraser was reading the paper (years of living with Vecchio and Kowalski had made only that one dent in his manners), Vecchio was watching ESPN, and no one seemed to be celebrating.
Finally he got up and started clearing the table. Special occasions didn't stop Fraser's chore rota.
Cup 5, The Aftermath
When he finished the dishes, he headed back to the bedroom. Fraser was naked and waiting in bed. Vecchio was brushing his teeth.
Kowalski walked across the room and kissed Fraser. Fraser responded enthusiastically and tugged Kowalski onto the bed. Vecchio joined them and for a few minutes there was a lot of slow, relaxed kissing of the sort parents didn't often have time to indulge in.
Fraser tugged Kowalski's boxers off while Kowalski and Vecchio were kissing; Vecchio had tugged his own off before getting into bed.
Blowjobs by Fraser made any day better, and it was still early.
Four hours, three orgasms apiece, and one nap later, Kowalski woke up to Fraser watching him sleep. Vecchio was still asleep, spooned against Kowalski's back, arm slung across his body.
"Good day?" Fraser asked.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Good. I'm glad." Fraser reached out and took his hand.
They lay there quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying time together with no obligations, no plans.
Eventually Kowalski had to ask, "So, Fraser, what's the occasion?"
"You don't remember? You will stand on tiptoe when ere you hear the name again, and so on."
"Not ringing a bell, sorry."
"It's the Eleventh of March!"