cw: ghostgaz fluffy fluff
Despite both being in the military for years, Kyle and Simon have very different schedules while on leave.
Kyle wakes up at 5 in the morning everyday. Regardless of how much he slept the night before. He has to get up and run immediately, shower, then he can enjoy breakfast, because if he doesn't move, doesn't have a routine to follow, the stillness starts crawling under his skin.
Simon wakes up with the sun, slower now than he used to be. Learned, somewhere along the way, that leave means nothing has to happen right away. Eventually he peels himself out of bed, and by the time he pads into the kitchen, Kyle's almost got breakfast plated.
Simon comes forward to wrap his hands around Kyle. He's still warm from the sheets, faint pillow crease still pressed into his cheek. Bare chest against Kyle's back, arms sliding around, hands settling flat over his stomach, palms and fingers spread wide, thumbs finding the little dip above his hip. Simon's chin hooks over his shoulder, stubble rough against Kyle's neck, and he exhales long and slow.
"Eggs are getting cold," Kyle says, reaching for the pan.
Simon just hums right against his ear. His thumb drags over Kyle's stomach, feather light, then again, slower and solid. Nose tucked into the curve of Kyle's neck, breathing him in, unbothered by the stove, the smell of eggs, the fact that Kyle's still got a pan in one hand.
"You're heavy, can't cook with you slung over me," Kyle mutters.
"Mm." Simon's grip tightens, just slightly, fingers spreading wider across his stomach like he's claiming more real estate. He presses kiss just under Kyle's ear, unhurried and soften.
Kyle huffs a laugh, Simon feels it rumble against him. Kyle reaches for the plates and has to shuffle a little, Simon's weight following him like a shadow, feet nearly tangling with his own. Simon doesn't budge an inch more than he has to, content to just be dragged along, chin bumping Kyle's shoulder with every step.
"Sit," Kyle says, elbowing him gently. "Can't cuddle you and cook eggs at the same time."
Simon grumbles into his neck, but lets go slowly, hand trailing off Kyle's stomach last.
He drops into the chair, elbow on the table, chin in his palm, watching Kyle with heavy-lidded eyes that don't leave him for a second, soft and slow-blinking. A man with nowhere to be and no one to watch but this.
Kyle feels it—that stare, warm as the stove at his back—and glances over his shoulder to catch Simon just looking at him, half a soft smile tugging at his mouth like he can't help it.
Kyle smiles back, softly radiant as ever. He picks up both plates and carries them over, sets Simon's down first.
"There. Now you can have—"
He doesn't get to finish it. Simon's hand closes around his wrist, careful and certain, and pulls, and Kyle's plate barely makes it to the table before he's tugged sideways into Simon's lap, an arm banding around his waist to keep him there. Simon settles him in like he weighs nothing, chin dropping back onto his shoulder with a satisfied little huff.
"There," Simon echoes. "Now I have you too."
Kyle huffs, reaching for his fork with a grin. "Ridiculous."
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