i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all
Sunjata just smiles in response to his instructions, forceful as they are, and it brings more of a smile to his own lips, his eyes crinkling just a little bit. All of those what if's, those worries that plague him when he's alone seem to vanish so easily now, in a warm kitchen in an early morning, someone he loves by his side. But he can't be here forever, won't, can't ask that of the other man. Nate feels a little queasy just thinking about it, a strange sensation he doesn't think his body should be able to mimic as accurately as it does.
An arm is wrapped around him without hesitation, and reciprocated in the same moment, one arm snaking around Sunjata's back, the other returning the smoke to the attuned's lips, then dropping to hover over the stitches on his front, not wanting to put too much pressure on them after his earlier mistake with the other hug. "I know that's not true." He says accusingly, more warmth in his voice now than there has been all morning. "But I'm also pretty sure you'll eat nearly anything I make anyway." Then, even better, he makes another, far more successful, attempt at humour. "And if this isn't good, I guess we can blame your part of it." Another kiss is pressed against Sunjata's cheek with this, Nate settling as the water boils and his instructions are followed. His head comes to rest on the other mans shoulder, shifting to look up and smile as Sunjata talks about hunting with Melita, meat, and something else, something saved for him. Nate leans in close again, pressing his lips against whatever he can reach without restricting the other man's arms, and sighs out a soft "I love you."
As the attuned stirs, the liquid in the pot begins to thicken, something like porridge, made savoury by the alliums added early on, and Nate shifts to grab two bowls, scooping a healthy amount into both of them, and topping it with the fried potato mix, the eggs and 'bacon' placed on top. If it tasted half as good as it looked, he would be happy, but he wouldn't be able to tell. Both bowls are held in one hand, his mug in the other, breakfast carried to the table, after a very brief stop to press a kiss to Sunjata's cheek, and request that he grab "Spoons, or... maybe forks. Whatever you want."
The good eggs, the ones he actually paid attention to, are set down in front of Sunjata, Nate sitting and waiting to be joined before he starts eating, and not only because he doesn't have any cutlery yet. He wants this moment to last as long as it can, to linger, and overstay it's welcome, if only so he doesn't have to welcome what he knows will come next. They are too irritatingly alike for his shift into a good mood to be accepted so easily, for Sunjata to not push at it.
An arm is wrapped around him without hesitation, and reciprocated in the same moment, one arm snaking around Sunjata's back, the other returning the smoke to the attuned's lips, then dropping to hover over the stitches on his front, not wanting to put too much pressure on them after his earlier mistake with the other hug. "I know that's not true." He says accusingly, more warmth in his voice now than there has been all morning. "But I'm also pretty sure you'll eat nearly anything I make anyway." Then, even better, he makes another, far more successful, attempt at humour. "And if this isn't good, I guess we can blame your part of it." Another kiss is pressed against Sunjata's cheek with this, Nate settling as the water boils and his instructions are followed. His head comes to rest on the other mans shoulder, shifting to look up and smile as Sunjata talks about hunting with Melita, meat, and something else, something saved for him. Nate leans in close again, pressing his lips against whatever he can reach without restricting the other man's arms, and sighs out a soft "I love you."
As the attuned stirs, the liquid in the pot begins to thicken, something like porridge, made savoury by the alliums added early on, and Nate shifts to grab two bowls, scooping a healthy amount into both of them, and topping it with the fried potato mix, the eggs and 'bacon' placed on top. If it tasted half as good as it looked, he would be happy, but he wouldn't be able to tell. Both bowls are held in one hand, his mug in the other, breakfast carried to the table, after a very brief stop to press a kiss to Sunjata's cheek, and request that he grab "Spoons, or... maybe forks. Whatever you want."
The good eggs, the ones he actually paid attention to, are set down in front of Sunjata, Nate sitting and waiting to be joined before he starts eating, and not only because he doesn't have any cutlery yet. He wants this moment to last as long as it can, to linger, and overstay it's welcome, if only so he doesn't have to welcome what he knows will come next. They are too irritatingly alike for his shift into a good mood to be accepted so easily, for Sunjata to not push at it.
NATE
