Work Text:
He hates Jack.
Brock should love Sundays but he hasn’t since he met Jack and asked him to move in. Now, instead of sleeping in a nest of blankets until two in the afternoon he’s roused awake by Jack getting up early and cooking breakfast for the both of them.
He always tries to go back to sleep after cursing his boyfriend and burrowing himself deeper in said nest but he can never do it, balancing peculiarly between sleep and not. He stubbornly stays in between the covers, rolling to the warm spot left behind and inhaling the familiar scent left there.
It’s a studio apartment, renovated and clean. He’d like to specifically point that out because Jack always stuck his nose up about his old place. Brock barely lived there, he didn’t mind it but trying to bring Rollins home when there was daylight really set the pin for a blow up between them. It took a few days but eventually he stopped being a stubborn ass and knew the guy was only concerned about upping his home environment to satisfactory.
On the plus side, the new layout gave him a full show from the bed. Jack in the pink frilly apron that Johnson gave Brock as a gag gift one Christmas. It was tied back with a neat little bow around his waist and nothing else, ass on full view and hair a little messed up. He especially liked the bruises and deep angry red scratches down his back and smiled to himself feeling the dip back into falling into a doze again.
It’s not until he hears the sizzle and pop of bacon, that he stirs a little bit more. He grumbles under his breath as the smell permeates through his blanket defense and forces him to inhale the perfect smell, then of course his stomach predictably makes itself known that it too is now awake.
He hates Jack.
Eventually he’s up and Jack’s holding out a plate for him on the couch because fuck chairs right now, he wants to still be in blankets while he’s eating and being a little pissy. Jack plants a kiss on his forehead and Brock can’t help but attempt to headbutt him out of his face except either the fucker’s too fast or he’s not fully awake. Jack’s channel surfing and eventually stopping on something called Museum Secrets and if there wasn’t food in his hand he would have hit Jack in the chest for picking something the guy knew he wouldn’t watch.
He’s a dick like that, really.
When he’s finished, Jack takes his plate from him with his own and Brock settles in to stare at some naked woman in a painting they’re discussing. His stomach full, he’s already falling asleep again and the water’s running in the kitchen sink so Jack’s started the dish washing. He only comes to when he feels the weight of the couch shift with Jack coming back and his nose buried in some book he’s been reading for the past day and Brock shifts down so he can get his feet into his boyfriend’s lap. Rollins doesn’t look up but lifts his free arm off his thigh to accommodate him and when it returns again Brock’s content to feel fingers massage into his ankles before he falls back asleep.
He wakes up to Jack still lost in his book and the soft pads of his fingers brushing along the top of his bare foot. Some movie is playing in Italian and he watches with bleary eyes, mainly following it by sound before he dozes off again and it’s not til later that evening does he realize there were no subtitles on and Jack doesn’t know a heck of a lot of Italian yet.
When he’s finally done napping some of their morning and a bit of their afternoon away, he pulls himself up groggily and kicks the blankets off. Jack watches for a second before he goes back to his book and a cup of coffee Brock steals before Rollins can take another sip from it. He settles in to watch some trashy made for TV movie about some creepy neighbor stalking the new family moving in because he has a weakness for grade A shit movies like that and Jack just ignores them when they’re on.
Eventually he gets bored of it when the plotholes outweigh any sort of pro to watching it and glances over at Jack and his book again. He ends up crawling onto his lap because if he has to be woken up so early in the morning because his boyfriend can’t sleep in like a normal fucking person then at least said boyfriend should get into some Sunday activities that Brock is a big fan of.
All Jack does is look over his book at him seconds before Brock’s snatching it from his hands and tossing it over his shoulder. He hears something shatter and he really could care less, he’s more interested in the tall dark and handsome giving him a raised brow and Brock’s arms go around Jack’s neck. He flashes him an innocent smile as he leans in to press a line of kisses against Jack’s one deep scar, soft lips pressing to rough stubble and it’s all the coaxing he has to do before he feels hands running up the backs of his thighs and grabbing his ass. He’s nuzzling his nose lightly against Rollins’ cheekbone and Jack’s turning his mouth to catch his lips. Jack’s being productive and reading his mind when it’s suddenly way too warm for Brock to be in the clothes he was sleeping in anymore and helping him out of his t-shirt.
He’s delighting in how much he loves his new place when the bed is only steps away and his body falls against the rumbled sheets with a very sexy man climbing over him like he wants to eat him alive.
Brock loves Sundays.
He loves Jack too.