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“You okay?”
“Ah, you’re awake!” Jakob turns to Kevin, then turns back to the pan on the hob as it demands his attention.
“Yes,” Kevin starts slowly, “because you’re making so much noise in here!”
Looking around the kitchen, Kevin notes, surprisingly, it isn’t as messy as all the noise would suggest.
Jakob turns back to Kevin: his face red, and damp with sweat, or tears, or both. Kevin immediately pulls him into a hug, despite the pan clearly needing attention.
“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Jakob mumbles into Kevin’s shoulder, as Kevin rubs his back.
“Well,” Kevin starts with a soft laugh, “now I know you’re not dead, I’ll go back to bed” He tries to pull back, but Jakob’s grip on him becomes tighter.
“I wanted to make you breakfast in bed!”
“You still can!” Kevin notes, tone light.
“But the surprise is ruined!”
“It doesn’t need to be a surprise,” Kevin starts, looking for a positive to make Jakob smile. But his response only makes Jakob bury into him, and his cries simultaneously get louder and more muffled.
“How about,” Kevin pulls back slight, trying to find Jakob’s face, “we make breakfast together?”
“It’s not the same,” Jakob sniffs, as he pulls back. He looks up at Kevin with blurry, wet eyes, a small smile forms, “But, yes. Absolute!”
Grinning, Kevin removes a hand from its hold on Jakob, and wipes each cheek in turn. Jakob sniffs again, but his smile grins. Kevin gives Jakob one last reassuring look and a swipe of the thumb over one of his damp cheeks, and then turns to the hob, “So, what are we making?”
“A mess!” Jakob concludes.
Delighted to see Jakob is making light of the situation, signalling the return on his usual state, Kevin also attempts a joke: “Maybe we should just make some toast?” he laughs.
Jakob laughs. Then he looks down and mumbles, “But you deserve a proper breakfast!”
“I don’t need one,” Kevin says, “I don’t need breakfast in bed at all,”
Jakob shifts, “But you-”
“Are very happy to just wake up next to you every morning!”
Jakob feels the tears may fall again, but not from stress. He burnt the pan, and its content (and maybe himself - don’t tell Kevin) with his attempt at being romantic, and yet Kevin’s able to burn his cheeks and be romantic in just twelve words.