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It is strange how a smell can be so entirely, pleasantly familiar and yet so difficult to describe. It is warm, somehow, and just a little bit sexy in a peculiar way that Connor files away for later consideration while he pops the slices of bread into the toaster. The kitchen is cold, so he pulls the knitted shirt tighter around his body, humming a tune to himself while he fetches the milk from the fridge.
Kevin comes stumbling into the kitchen a couple of minutes later, grumpy-looking and with his hair a mess. Connor knows that he has valiantly tried to be a morning person for most of his life, and has only recently become comfortable enough with himself to acknowledge that he is not, finally allowing himself to act accordingly. Today he has a good excuse, however, Connor gives him that.
“Good morning,” Connor sings along to the tune he has been humming, fighting the urge to tap his heels along with it. He tries different keys, trying to find a rhythm he likes, “Good morning, good morning.”
Kevin looks unimpressed as he sits down at the kitchen table. “Is that my shirt?” he asks.
“Maybe,” Connor replies cheerfully, tugging at it with his hand. “What’s yours is mine. Right?”
Kevin mostly looks bemused, which he usually does when he finds Connor’s moods to be overwhelming. Combined with his lingering grumpiness it becomes almost unforgivingly cute. Connor has to restrain himself from cooing, because he is pretty sure that it would be to take it one step to far.
Instead he takes the bread from the toaster and drops a slice on each plate, kissing Kevin on the cheek as he passes before making a face. “Stubble.”
“Well.” Kevin strokes a hand over his chin. “I just woke up.”
“I know you did,” Connor says fondly, patting his shoulder. “I forgive you.”
“How grand of you.”
“Oh shush.” He cracks an egg into the bowl with an elegant flick of his wrist. “You’re just grumpy because the plane was so late last night. But see, I even made breakfast to cheer you up.”
Kevin does something strange with his mouth that—sort of—looks like the beginning of a smile. “I got three hours of sleep. Three.”
“Poor baby.” He cracks another egg, then whisks them together while adding some milk, tries to smile as saucily over the bowl as possible. “I had plans for you last night, but under the circumstances I was thinking we could indulge in them today instead.”
“Oh?” Kevin, more awake now, looks at him quizzically as though he thinks Connor has arranged a picnic or a trip to the zoo. “What sort of plans?”
“Then sort of plans you make when you haven’t seen your boyfriend in the past two months.” Connor holds his hands over the saucepan to check the heat, then pours the eggs in before he turns to blow Kevin a kiss—only to realize that he still looks confused. “Sex, Kevin. You, me, naked. In bed. Or right here in the kitchen, if you’d prefer. It’s been two months, dear.”
“Oh.” The smallest hint of a blush; Connor knows that Kevin doesn’t like feeling like a fool. “That sounds—good.”
“Just eat your breakfast and I’ll tell you more about it.” Connor stirs in the saucepan, then winks at him. “You’re going to need your strength.”