Work Text:
As per usual, Chuck has long since left the bed when Yancy wakes up – almost-but-not-quite late for work, also as per usual.
Groggily dragging himself out of bed, Yancy manages to make himself look presentable in the bathroom and shrugs on his dress shirt and slacks before lazily stumbling down the stairs, the smell of breakfast present throughout the house already.
When he gets to the kitchen, Chuck’s at the stove, juggling two pans and a plate while side-stepping Max, who’s watching him like a hawk in case any scraps accidentally (or not so accidentally) make their way to the floor.
Yancy leans against the doorframe, smiling at Chuck’s endeavors. True to his competitive nature, Chuck had already started making efforts to learn how to cook after he experienced firsthand how good a cook Yancy really was. And then when he learned that the younger Becket brother had a penchant for cooking as well, he was, of course, not to be outdone.
“Mornin’.” Yancy rasps, clearing his throat to get rid of the last remnants of sleep still there.
“Oi, about time, you lazy sod,” Chuck says without even turning around. “I was about ready to come wake you up myself.”
“Hmm? Maybe I should’ve stayed in bed then.” Yancy drawls, cocking an eyebrow. Chuck smirks back at him, stirring the scrambled eggs.
“Then you would’ve been very late.” Chuck puts down the spatula and leans forward – carefully avoiding Max again – to peck Yancy on the lips, drawing back far too early for the latter’s tastes.
“Now take that,” his boyfriend points at a brown paper bag, before grabbing a big Styrofoam cup off the counter and pressing it into Yancy’s hands as well, “and this, and try not to get stuck in traffic today.”
Yancy inhales the coffee’s aroma deeply before peeking into the paper bag. Inside is a row of sandwiches so clean-cut they look like they came right out of a Martha Stewart cookbook, and they look so delicious Yancy’s suddenly aware of how hungry he is.
“Don’t eat all of those in the car. Save some for lunch.” Chuck’s voice – muffled somewhat around a mouthful of bread roll he just pulled out the oven – shakes Yancy out of the transfixed stare he didn’t realize he’d been giving the contents of the bag. He looks back up just in time to see Chuck kneeling down with a scrap of bacon, cooing at a very excited Max wagging his stumpy little tail. He’s still wearing one oven glove, dressed in his pajamas, and Yancy’s standing there dressed for his office job, with a coffee and a brown paper bag full of lunch his boyfriend just prepared for him.
The scene is so stupidly domestic, Yancy’s breath catches in his throat and he has to force himself not to put the bag and the coffee down and wrap his arms around Chuck, take him back upstairs and show him how much he appreciates him, how much he means to him, how much he—
“You’re an angel.” Yancy all but sighs instead, taking a sip of coffee. It’s perfect, just how he likes it.
“Yeah, yeah. What would you ever do without me?”
Yancy grins and leans forward again to cup Chuck’s face, pressing another kiss against his lips before turning around and hurrying out the door even though his heart is screaming at him to stay for just five more minutes.
“See you tonight.”
“Don’t work too hard!”
He loves Chuck.
He’s just waiting for the perfect moment to tell him, is all.
And if a few days later he accidentally blurts it out when Chuck’s yelling at some sports game on the TV, which is anything but the perfect moment but it’s just so Chuck and he’s just so in love and, well… from the way he kisses him and pushes him onto his back on the couch, Chuck doesn’t seem to mind all that much either.