TW: Real Person Fic

Title: ~Breakfast~

“Can you hand me that egg?” Ross asks, gesturing to the bowl besides Smith. The brunette looks down from his perch on the counter, sliding the bowl towards the shorter man before sighing.

“Jesus Christ, how long does making French Toast take?” Smith whines, pouting at Ross. Ross scoffs and makes eye contact with Smith, the disheveledness of his hair and sleep still in Smith’s blue eyes making him grin.

“Honestly, Smith, you could’ve stayed in bed,” the dark-haired man says, rolling his eyes at Smith before turning his attention to the bowl in front of him and cracking the egg. “It’s been two minutes and you’re already whining about it.”

Smith sticks out his tongue at the other man, sliding off of the counter and coming to stand behind Ross. The brunette presses a warm kiss to the skin of the other man’s shoulder, hands coming to rest on his hips. He grins as he feels the man in front of him hum appreciatively, Smith’s fingers curling into the skin right above Ross’ boxers.

“I don’t like staying in bed without you,” Smith murmurs into Ross’ shoulder, making the man in front of him grin as he began whisking the mix. Smith traces the band of the other man’s boxers with his thumbs, the digits dipping briefly under. The taller man grins when he feels Ross shudder slightly beneath his touch.

He feels Ross stop whisking, instead turning around to face him. His back is against the counter, the cool of the surface pressing against him as Smith comes to press against his front, skin-on-skin contact blocked only by the fabric of Ross’ apron. Smith raises a hand to trace the outline of Ross’ jaw, smile pulling at his lips as his thumb comes to brush against the shorter man’s lips.

“D’rather be down here with you than in bed alone,” Smith continues, his words a whisper into the space between them as he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Ross’ lips. He feels the dark-haired man smile into the kiss, hands curled slightly into Smith’s back to avoid getting any mess on the brunette’s skin.

“I love you,” Ross says as he pulls away, pressing a kiss to the tip of Smith’s nose and grinning when the other man scrunches it in response. He turns, meaning to continue whisking but movements slightly delayed when Smith hugs him from behind and whispers in response.

“Love you too, you stupid, romantic twat.”