Sunday.
The room is cast in a cool grey, with shades of black and white sliding in places across the walls. The sun rose three hours ago, and the shadows slip across the walls as it moves up further into the sky. Nick has been awake for forty-five minutes, lying on his side, blinking lazily through the hazy contentment that comes with waking up naturally and having no need to immediately leave his bed. Every few minutes, he convinced himself to move his legs, letting them settle again on a new section of the cool sheets, the new sensation eliciting a soft sigh from his lips. A yawn startles him into rolling onto his back and then in a wild gesture that doesn’t fit the calm silence, tugs at the tangled blankets and flops down on his other side with a groan.
The bedroom door is open a crack, and it’s just enough space for Cat to paw her way in, mewling softly and hopping up onto the bed beside him. She butts her head against Nick’s hair, purring loudly, and he knows that’s her way of saying, “I know you’re awake. You can’t pretend you’re not. Pet me now.” Still, he doesn’t move, and she eventually settles on the bed beside him, which really makes it impossible to move because she’s pinning down the blankets. But that’s okay. He’s comfortable enough that it doesn’t matter, and eventually, his hand falls into her fur, and his fingers scratch lightly, and she rolls onto her side, vibrating like a little motor beside him. He’s very happy in this moment. He can’t think of any place at all that he would rather be or anything he would rather be doing. Eventually, Cat decides she’s finished with him and hops off the bed to explore a sound she’s heard down the hall, and Nick’s bladder prods him out of bed.
After he relieves himself, he shimmies out of his boxers and steps into the shower, sighing softly at the cascade of warm water. He takes his time, scrubbing the shampoo into his hair until it’s running in lathers down his face and rinsing it out with the same slowness, vaguely wishing Kevin was nearby to massage his scalp like he does when they shower together before going to work, but since he’s not, he tries to simulate the sensation himself. It doesn’t work as well as he’d like, but he does feel very relaxed once he’s stepped out.
He can smell bacon now, so he knows that Kevin knows he’s awake. He’s not really sure how he does it, unless he comes back to check, which is possible, but he always has breakfast cooking just as he’s finishing his shower so that he wanders down the kitchen to the smell of coffee and eggs. It’s one of his favorite things, really, getting to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom in favor of something pleasant to fill his empty stomach. The only thing that would make it better would be if Kevin somehow figured out how to stay in bed with him and cook at the same time. He considers suggesting moving their bed to the kitchen.
He finds Kevin still in his pajama pants, which makes him smile. Sundays are the only day when they don’t get up, shower and get dressed, and there’s something about getting to press up against Kevin’s back and kiss his shoulders that gets Nick melting. He likes the way that he can feel Kevin’s smile in the way his muscles relax in response to him. “Good morning. Your hair is wet.”
“Mmm.” Nick hums his agreement, sucking gently at his neck and rubbing his hands over his stomach, tugging gently at the hair beneath his belly button. “That usually happens when a person showers. Good morning, baby.” He ducks under Kevin’s arm, wrapping his own around his waist and studying the array of food before him. “Gravy? Are you making biscuits and gravy. You haven’t made that since Christmas morning. God, I love you so much right now. Are the biscuits in the oven?” He lets go of Kevin to tug the oven open just enough to peer inside and allow the smell of cooking biscuits to waft up. “I really, really love you.”
Kevin laughs and bats him away. “Go make some toast, you.” He waves the spatula in his direction, tsking. “You and your conditional love. Only wanting me for my biscuits and gravy.” He sniffs dramatically. “Cat told me you were up this morning. She came into the living room and was like, ‘Yo, Kevin, I’m totally happy because I got Nick to pet me, so I think you should make him some breakfast.’ Seriously. She talks. You just never seem to be around to hear it. Sad really.”
Nick rolls his eyes good-naturedly, as he does every time they talk about Cat’s amazing communication skills. “Yeah, yeah. I really think it’s just because she favors you. She only likes me for the forty-five minutes each morning when I am not awake enough to realize that I don’t want to pet her until my hand gets tired.” He pops two pieces of wheat toast into their toaster, frowning at it. “I still say we should have bought the four-piece toaster. We eat two pieces of toast each. We’d be eating it so much faster that way!”
Kevin just laughs and Nick takes two plates from the cabinet. He butters Kevin’s toast and spreads it with strawberry jam. He sticks to butter for his own, because he likes the way it looks melting against the darkened bread, and he laces it with cinnamon, the look of which pleases him even more. He likes to add cinnamon to almost anything that is supposed to have a bit of a sweet taste, just because of how elegant it looks dusting any food. He particularly likes apple pie, because there’s something sweet about the caramelized apples covered in the brown cinnamon. Kevin’s very good at making it, but he always lets Nick sprinkle on the cinnamon.
He takes the plates to the table, arranges the toast on the edge in a way that satisfies him and leaves enough space for the rest of their breakfast, and Kevin sets the bacon down on a plate in the middle of the table once it’s finished. “How long on the biscuits, my love?”
“About ten minutes.” Kevin flops down in the chair and tugs Nick over onto his lap, pressing soft kisses to his neck. “You looked so beautiful this morning. I’ve only been up for about an hour, you know. I couldn’t drag myself out of bed because then I’d have to stop looking at you.”
Nick giggles in an elated way (high-pitched and twittering) that he only does for Kevin and settles straddling him, pressing their mouths together. “I get so annoyed when I wake up and you’re not next to me.” He huffs slowly, kissing his way down his jaw to his neck, sucking another mark onto his skin. “Especially on Sundays, since Saturdays are sexy night, and I want to be all cuddly with you the next morning.”
“But we both know you get cranky when you get hungry, so then I have to get up and make you breakfast anyway.” Kevin smiles, petting his hair. “And we always go back to bed after breakfast, so it’s not like the moments of cuddling are lost.”
The timer dings, and Nick groans and unfolds himself from Kevin’s lap to go retrieve the biscuits. He scoops up two with a spatula and brings them over to deposit on Kevin’s plate and then two more for his own before retrieving the gravy and pouring it over their food. “Biscuits and gravy always seems like such a southern kind of food.”
“It kind of is. I think that’s why we like it.” Kevin pours them both a glass of orange juice out of the pitcher he set out earlier. “Our grandma was southern and everything, after all.”
Nick nods and tugs his chair over next to Kevin’s, pulling his plate and glass closer as well so he can touch and kiss him while they eat. “True that. It makes me think of Christmas and opening presents and happy. Although I’m always happy. I have a beautiful perfect husband that makes me breakfast every Sunday after sucking me off and making love to me on Saturday nights.” He chomps happily on a piece of bacon.
“That is not breakfast-appropriate conversation, Nicholas.”
“Shh.” Nick giggles, pressing his lips to his cheek. “When we have kids, we should make pancakes on Sunday mornings.”
“With chocolate chips in them. As a treat, since we’re making them eat oatmeal on weekdays.”
“Oatmeal would be good for them, I think.”
“Yes, definitely. Protein and all that.” Kevin kisses his hair, his eyes soft. “My love. I’m going to take care of you all our days.”
Nick takes a bite of his toast, leans his head on Kevin’s shoulder and closes his eyes as he chews, thinking about their cozy bed in their dark bedroom, unmade and waiting for them to climb back into it and how Kevin will later do the crossword puzzle in the paper while Nick lies across his lap reading. And later in the evening, they’ll order Chinese food, and Kevin will rub his feet while Nick feeds him with chopsticks, and they’ll end up laughing and kissing and watch reruns of Jeopardy on the Game Show Network until Kevin suggests they go to bed, where their mouths will press together in a slow way that makes Nick’s heart melt in a gooey mess that just calls for Kevin. He smiles up at him. “I know.”
The bedroom door is open a crack, and it’s just enough space for Cat to paw her way in, mewling softly and hopping up onto the bed beside him. She butts her head against Nick’s hair, purring loudly, and he knows that’s her way of saying, “I know you’re awake. You can’t pretend you’re not. Pet me now.” Still, he doesn’t move, and she eventually settles on the bed beside him, which really makes it impossible to move because she’s pinning down the blankets. But that’s okay. He’s comfortable enough that it doesn’t matter, and eventually, his hand falls into her fur, and his fingers scratch lightly, and she rolls onto her side, vibrating like a little motor beside him. He’s very happy in this moment. He can’t think of any place at all that he would rather be or anything he would rather be doing. Eventually, Cat decides she’s finished with him and hops off the bed to explore a sound she’s heard down the hall, and Nick’s bladder prods him out of bed.
After he relieves himself, he shimmies out of his boxers and steps into the shower, sighing softly at the cascade of warm water. He takes his time, scrubbing the shampoo into his hair until it’s running in lathers down his face and rinsing it out with the same slowness, vaguely wishing Kevin was nearby to massage his scalp like he does when they shower together before going to work, but since he’s not, he tries to simulate the sensation himself. It doesn’t work as well as he’d like, but he does feel very relaxed once he’s stepped out.
He can smell bacon now, so he knows that Kevin knows he’s awake. He’s not really sure how he does it, unless he comes back to check, which is possible, but he always has breakfast cooking just as he’s finishing his shower so that he wanders down the kitchen to the smell of coffee and eggs. It’s one of his favorite things, really, getting to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom in favor of something pleasant to fill his empty stomach. The only thing that would make it better would be if Kevin somehow figured out how to stay in bed with him and cook at the same time. He considers suggesting moving their bed to the kitchen.
He finds Kevin still in his pajama pants, which makes him smile. Sundays are the only day when they don’t get up, shower and get dressed, and there’s something about getting to press up against Kevin’s back and kiss his shoulders that gets Nick melting. He likes the way that he can feel Kevin’s smile in the way his muscles relax in response to him. “Good morning. Your hair is wet.”
“Mmm.” Nick hums his agreement, sucking gently at his neck and rubbing his hands over his stomach, tugging gently at the hair beneath his belly button. “That usually happens when a person showers. Good morning, baby.” He ducks under Kevin’s arm, wrapping his own around his waist and studying the array of food before him. “Gravy? Are you making biscuits and gravy. You haven’t made that since Christmas morning. God, I love you so much right now. Are the biscuits in the oven?” He lets go of Kevin to tug the oven open just enough to peer inside and allow the smell of cooking biscuits to waft up. “I really, really love you.”
Kevin laughs and bats him away. “Go make some toast, you.” He waves the spatula in his direction, tsking. “You and your conditional love. Only wanting me for my biscuits and gravy.” He sniffs dramatically. “Cat told me you were up this morning. She came into the living room and was like, ‘Yo, Kevin, I’m totally happy because I got Nick to pet me, so I think you should make him some breakfast.’ Seriously. She talks. You just never seem to be around to hear it. Sad really.”
Nick rolls his eyes good-naturedly, as he does every time they talk about Cat’s amazing communication skills. “Yeah, yeah. I really think it’s just because she favors you. She only likes me for the forty-five minutes each morning when I am not awake enough to realize that I don’t want to pet her until my hand gets tired.” He pops two pieces of wheat toast into their toaster, frowning at it. “I still say we should have bought the four-piece toaster. We eat two pieces of toast each. We’d be eating it so much faster that way!”
Kevin just laughs and Nick takes two plates from the cabinet. He butters Kevin’s toast and spreads it with strawberry jam. He sticks to butter for his own, because he likes the way it looks melting against the darkened bread, and he laces it with cinnamon, the look of which pleases him even more. He likes to add cinnamon to almost anything that is supposed to have a bit of a sweet taste, just because of how elegant it looks dusting any food. He particularly likes apple pie, because there’s something sweet about the caramelized apples covered in the brown cinnamon. Kevin’s very good at making it, but he always lets Nick sprinkle on the cinnamon.
He takes the plates to the table, arranges the toast on the edge in a way that satisfies him and leaves enough space for the rest of their breakfast, and Kevin sets the bacon down on a plate in the middle of the table once it’s finished. “How long on the biscuits, my love?”
“About ten minutes.” Kevin flops down in the chair and tugs Nick over onto his lap, pressing soft kisses to his neck. “You looked so beautiful this morning. I’ve only been up for about an hour, you know. I couldn’t drag myself out of bed because then I’d have to stop looking at you.”
Nick giggles in an elated way (high-pitched and twittering) that he only does for Kevin and settles straddling him, pressing their mouths together. “I get so annoyed when I wake up and you’re not next to me.” He huffs slowly, kissing his way down his jaw to his neck, sucking another mark onto his skin. “Especially on Sundays, since Saturdays are sexy night, and I want to be all cuddly with you the next morning.”
“But we both know you get cranky when you get hungry, so then I have to get up and make you breakfast anyway.” Kevin smiles, petting his hair. “And we always go back to bed after breakfast, so it’s not like the moments of cuddling are lost.”
The timer dings, and Nick groans and unfolds himself from Kevin’s lap to go retrieve the biscuits. He scoops up two with a spatula and brings them over to deposit on Kevin’s plate and then two more for his own before retrieving the gravy and pouring it over their food. “Biscuits and gravy always seems like such a southern kind of food.”
“It kind of is. I think that’s why we like it.” Kevin pours them both a glass of orange juice out of the pitcher he set out earlier. “Our grandma was southern and everything, after all.”
Nick nods and tugs his chair over next to Kevin’s, pulling his plate and glass closer as well so he can touch and kiss him while they eat. “True that. It makes me think of Christmas and opening presents and happy. Although I’m always happy. I have a beautiful perfect husband that makes me breakfast every Sunday after sucking me off and making love to me on Saturday nights.” He chomps happily on a piece of bacon.
“That is not breakfast-appropriate conversation, Nicholas.”
“Shh.” Nick giggles, pressing his lips to his cheek. “When we have kids, we should make pancakes on Sunday mornings.”
“With chocolate chips in them. As a treat, since we’re making them eat oatmeal on weekdays.”
“Oatmeal would be good for them, I think.”
“Yes, definitely. Protein and all that.” Kevin kisses his hair, his eyes soft. “My love. I’m going to take care of you all our days.”
Nick takes a bite of his toast, leans his head on Kevin’s shoulder and closes his eyes as he chews, thinking about their cozy bed in their dark bedroom, unmade and waiting for them to climb back into it and how Kevin will later do the crossword puzzle in the paper while Nick lies across his lap reading. And later in the evening, they’ll order Chinese food, and Kevin will rub his feet while Nick feeds him with chopsticks, and they’ll end up laughing and kissing and watch reruns of Jeopardy on the Game Show Network until Kevin suggests they go to bed, where their mouths will press together in a slow way that makes Nick’s heart melt in a gooey mess that just calls for Kevin. He smiles up at him. “I know.”