The apartment was still quiet, the air tinged with the after-scent of last night. Heat, sex, and the faint cinnamon that seemed to cling to Rafael wherever he went.
I opened the fridge, humming to myself. Not a full chorus, just the start of a tune. Something cheerful. Rafael would pretend to grumble about it later, I was sure.
I had eggs. Bacon. Bread. Cheese. Not fancy, but enough.
I got to work, frying the bacon first, because the smell alone was enough to wake the dead, or at least tempt a sleeping bear from his cave.
The sizzle filled the small kitchen, and I smiled as I cracked eggs into the pan, adding a sprinkle of salt and pepper, then sliding a couple of slices of sourdough into the toaster.
I thought about last night. About the way he’d kissed me like I mattered.
The way he’d whispered my name like it was sacred. The way he held me afterward like he didn’t plan to let go.
He’d told me he’d let me stand beside him next time. And I believed him.
I plated the food and made coffee, setting everything on a tray like I actually knew what I was doing.
It wasn’t fancy. Eggs a little lopsided, bacon slightly curled, toast barely buttered, but it was made with all the ridiculous affection currently crammed into my chest.
I slipped back into the bedroom as quietly as I could.
Rafael was still sprawled across the bed, limbs tangled in the sheets, one hand curled under the pillow like a giant, half-naked menace of comfort and grumpiness.
His hair was a mess, his stubble heavier in the morning light, and his brow was furrowed even in sleep like he was fighting off the idea of waking.
I stood there for a moment, just… looking. Part of me was still unable to believe this grumpy bear was mine.
Carefully, I placed the tray on the nightstand and crawled back into bed, curling up beside him and pressing a kiss to the space behind his ear.
“Breakfast’s ready,” I whispered.
He groaned low in his throat, cracking one eye open. “Is it coffee or cupcakes?”
“Real food,” I said, amused. “With caffeine and protein and zero frosting.”
He grunted again. “You’re perfect.”
I laughed and kissed his shoulder. “You’re still half-asleep.”
“Still true,” Rafael admitted.
He rolled toward me, eyes finally opening fully, and there it was.
That look. The one he gave me when he forgot to guard himself. Warm and unfiltered and far too much for my fragile morning heart.
“You made me breakfast,” he said, a little bewildered.
“Figured I owed you,” I replied. “For the bear cuddles. And everything else.”
He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, thumb brushing my cheek like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “You don’t owe me anything, James.”
“I know,” I said, voice soft. “I just… wanted to. That okay?”
His expression turned serious for a beat, and then he nodded, kissing me slow and sweet. “More than okay.”
We ended up eating together in bed, legs tangled under the blankets, coffee mugs balanced precariously on our knees. Rafael made a face when I added too much sugar to mine.
I stole a piece of his bacon in retaliation.
