domestic hammeranvil thinking.
Baelor is up at 5 every morning, a habit, even if there's nothing to do. that, or he's getting the littles up and ready to walk to the school bus. amidst that, he's gotten the newspaper and read it, having it nicely folded against the table, barely making a peep, going over the crossword without a pen. all while drinking his first coffee of the day. he then brings it back to bed with a cup of coffee at quarter to seven. he curls back around Maekar like a cat, head on his husband's warm, bare chest, dozing instantly when a hand scratches into his hair.
and then Maekar reads the paper at 7, after he sips through half his coffee and questions rolling back over all together for a while. he has his old man readers [glasses] on, but he still squints. he makes exclamations about what he's reading that Baelor hums at here and there. he's dramatically fanning out the paper and fluffing it out. and fussing through the crossword with a pen that lives on his bedside table, and critiquing of the forecast will be at all correct.
Baelor tries to get him to look at the funnies with him. Maekar scoffs at him every time. and yet they go through the funnies. Baelor must compared him to Garfield. he just has to. Maekar smacks his head and tells him it's time to get out of bed.
they discuss what they read, seeing at they hold some sort of power in this town, even if it's just a neighborhood committee, their politics is important to them, while they get ready in their shared bathroom— between brushing their teeth and taking turns (and perhaps sharing a moment or two) in the shower and shaving —together at half past 7.
they have have shared this routine for so long it is down the the minute they will be done by 8:17 at the latest. always. like clockwork. every morning. for years and years.
I need my old men being old men. this is very old married couple core.
added notes: Baelor is the only person who can perfectly make Maekar's coffee (brewed real dark with 3 splashes or cream, 2 spoons of sugar, and a hint of cinnamon). Baelor learned over the years. Maekar would make it black (cause he's old and cliche), then steal sips of his brother's and clearly enjoy it more. so then he played with it until he found what Maekar truly liked.
as for breakfast, which Maekar always makes, despite his complaining now and then, he likes to cook, and he likes to cook for Baelor.
they rotate between french toast (with syrup and butter for Baelor and sugar and butter for Maekar). eggs toast (with sausage for Baelor and bacon for Maekar, but they steal from each other). and a classic oatmeal and cream of wheat. with some fruit and maybe tea. and with tea there's some sort of bake good, normally the ones Baelor bakes himself.
when it comes to the kids, when Baelor's not shuttling them off to school or the school bus before returning to bed (in which he either does homemade baked breakfasts for them), they do a family-style breakfast. Maekar makes everyone get out of bed, even Daeron, who's graduated. Valarr too, but he doesn't need mama to force him to come to dinner. and they all come and eat a buffet of all the options. Maekar insists.
and all those with the... faculties... to help, help. and they all gather around the table. and it's nice and warm and cozy... but has to be limited to only once or twice a month so they don't kill each other.
and if it's just one or two of the kids present, Maekar makes them whatever they want. and they see some of the softest of their father cause he's still sleepy and well caffeinated. they get a kiss on the head with their banana pancakes (I gotta give every loving dad the famous banana pancakes)
