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The rising sun is just beginning to peak in through the kitchen curtains as Mumbo leans against the sink. He drums his fingers nervously against the countertop and takes a conscious deep breath in. He’s been awake for longer than he needs to be, but has found it hard to sleep with company in his bed.
The night before had been the second that he’d spent with Big B. The first had been at B’s place, this at his own. Having lived alone for months, it was certainly an adjustment to spending the night with someone in his bed. His tendency to overthink things didn’t help either, and he kept finding himself waking in the night between strange dreams or a shift in his sleep that bumped his arm into B’s, sending him into a panic about accidentally making his new partner uncomfortable.
He could overthink it all day, and it’s an effort not to. But he’s already lost enough of his day to a needless spiral, and decides that he should properly get his day started.
Releasing his grip on the sink, he sets about filling and heating his kettle for tea, trying to focus on the running water rather than his own racing mind. As he lights the burner and sets the water to boil, he keeps catching himself glancing over his shoulder towards the kitchen doorway to see if his company has gotten up yet. Each time the doorway is empty.
One thing at a time, he decides, and begins the dirty dishes from the night before as the water heats on the stove.
He nearly misses the sound of footsteps down the hall, and it’s really only his own habit of checking the doorway that alerts him to Big B’s presence. He jumps, sloshing water from the sink as he notices B in the doorway smiling back at him.
He’s dressed in boxers and one of Mumbo’s plain white t-shirts, his hair still ruffled from sleep, eyes still tired. He’s a vision, stunning like this in the dim glow of morning, and Mumbo thinks that he could get used to this.
“Good morning, Mumbo,” he greets.
It takes Mumbo a moment to stop staring and respond. “Good morning, did you, um… sleep okay?”
“I slept great, actually. Need a hand?” Big B is already making his way into the kitchen.
Mumbo glances back at the dishes. “No, don’t worry about it,” he says.
Big B just nods, moving closer to rest a hand on the small of Mumbo’s back. The sensation of it makes him shiver, his touch soft, but the weight of it firm and steady. B leans in closer and presses a kiss to his cheek, his hand staying on Mumbo’s back.
“Gosh, I can’t really focus like this,” Mumbo admits.
Big B laughs softly, withdrawing himself from Mumbo slightly. “Sorry, you do what you need to do.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I just… Well, I’m thinking about last night, that’s all.” Mumbo returns to his dishes – if only to hide the redness in his cheeks – and sets a few rinsed plates on the drying rack.
Big B smiles. He opens his mouth as if to respond, but he’s cut short by the whistle of the kettle on the stovetop.
Mumbo shuts the tap off, though Big B stops him before he can step away from the kitchen sink.
“I’ve got it,” he says. He breezes past Mumbo and removes the kettle from the burner. “Do you have tea?” He asks.
“You really don’t need to help. You can just go sit down and relax if you’d rather.”
B shakes his head. “I like being able to do something for you. You’ve been such a great host, it’s the least I can do.”
Mumbo sighs. “It’s in the cabinet to your right.” He hands Big B two freshly washed mugs and allows him to fix their tea.
“How do you take yours,” B asks, glancing back at him from the fridge.
“Black is fine. But there’s milk in there and sugar on the counter if you’d like.”
By the time Mumbo’s finished the dishes, Big B has finished their tea. With one mug in each hand, he nods towards the living room, and Mumbo follows. They take seats beside each other on the couch with a bit of space between them; Mumbo doesn’t want to sit too close and risk making B uncomfortable.
“So you said before you were thinking about last night,” says Big B. “Is there anything you wanted to talk about?”
Mumbo’s face flushes, and he busies himself by steeping his tea. “I– well, I don’t know. Nothing specific? It’s just– you know, some of it was new and it’s only the second time we’ve ever…” he trails off. “I just want to make sure everything was and still is okay with you. And that you’re okay with the direction our relationship is going.”
B sets his tea down on the coffee table in favor of placing a comforting hand on Mumbo’s thigh. “I’m more than happy, Mumbo. All of it was great, and I think everything’s going the right way. As long as you’re still feeling good, then I’m feeling great.”
Mumbo offers him a nervous smile back. “I’m having a great time with everything. I guess I just get nervous and overthink sometimes.”
“Yeah, I have noticed that about you. That’s nothing we can’t work through, I’m here to make you feel comfortable.” He shifts over – closing the space between them that Mumbo had been worrying about – and kisses his cheek again.
Mumbo sighs softly. For the first time, he lets himself properly relax. “Thank you,” he says.
“For you? Always, Mumbo.”