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Seto, Atem had noticed, was far more physically affectionate after he’d been away on a long business trip. It was an endearing trait, one that had not faded or altered in their years together. A piece of the puzzle that made Seto who he was, an adorable habit that never failed to bring a smile to Atem’s lips. Right now, however, for all that he could wax rhapsodical about the intimacy and trust displayed by this little pattern of Seto’s, pride and possessiveness at the fore as always when Seto made himself vulnerable, all he could think about was the fact that Seto’s clinginess was currently preventing him from going to the bathroom.
Untangling himself from the mess of limbs and twisted sheets that he and his lover had become in the middle of the night without waking Seto up was a daunting task. Atem was pretty sure that Seto could give barnacles lessons on proper clinging techniques. But, he had some experience with this kind of situation and managed to awkwardly wriggle himself out of his lover’s embrace without falling out of their bed and onto his face. This time.
Upon returning from his quest to the bathroom, he huffed out a fond laugh at the sight of Seto, normally so aloof, curled up in the warm spot Atem had left behind, his legs still tangled up in the sheets. Atem crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, and spared a moment to drink in the rare sight of his lover so relaxed and free of tension. The sunlight seeping in from the window highlighted the planes of Seto’s face and bathed him in a soft golden glow that washed away years and stresses. His chest rose and fell softly, his hands and arms still curled as if holding Atem’s waist. Atem’s chest ached with fondness and he couldn’t have stopped the besotted smile that curved his mouth if he tried.
After a few more moments of quiet appreciation, Atem pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room. He bent down to grab Seto’s sweatshirt from where it had been discarded the night before in their haste to show each other how much they missed one another and slipped it on so that he could fight the morning chill in more than just his boxers. He paused by the bed to press a kiss on Seto’s brow, feather-light, but otherwise left his lover undisturbed so that he could sleep off the jet lag caused by flying home from a conference three time zones away. Atem straightened up from where he had leaned over the bed and walked leisurely to the door, pausing once to yawn and stretch, and a second time to cast another loving glance at the man asleep on the bed. Then he made his way downstairs to their kitchen to begin cooking breakfast.
It had taken Atem a few months to get the hang of using kitchen appliances. In those months, Seto had to replace two toasters, three microwaves, and one oven, plus put out several small fires and rewire the kitchen lights. However, by the end of it, Atem was a good enough cook that even Mokuba’s discerning (picky) palette was easy to appease. Sometimes, though, he pretended to forget the rule about metal in the microwave, just to keep Seto on his toes. And with Mokuba away at college for the semester, there was no one there to call him on it.
Atem hummed as he stood in front of the stove, Seto’s sweatshirt dwarfing him and its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was no song in particular, just whatever notes decided to float out and keep him company as he cooked. Butter sizzled softly in a pan as Atem sliced a large loaf of the fancy brioche Seto had kept in stock ever since he had first made french toast. Between Atem and the stove was a pie pan that smelled, in Atem’s humble opinion, like heaven. Generous helpings of nutmeg, cinnamon, and a dash of clove made up the spices, while the sugar and vanilla extract kept the concoction plenty sweet. After coating the first of his thick brioche slices in the egg-milk-spice mix, he set it gently in the pan of now melted butter. Just as he started reaching for the next slice, he felt arms slide around his waist and a head bury itself in the curve of his neck. Seto was awake.
“Sleep well, love?” He asked, leaning back into his boyfriend’s embrace, closing his eyes and smiling.
“Hmmm”, came the grumbled response against his throat. Perhaps Seto was not fully awake after all. Atem laughed gently and attempted to pull away so he could hand Seto the coffee he had brewed with this in mind, only for Seto’s hands to tighten on his waist and pull him closer.
“If you want coffee, then you need to let go”, he admonished, knocking his head against Seto’s, still buried in his neck, this time hiding the smile that Atem could feel against his pulse point.
“Then I don’t want coffee”, words Atem would bet the Puzzle Seto had never uttered before in his life. He snorted, rolling his eyes fondly, only to pause as Seto’s right hand curled against his own. Keeping his head leaned into Atem’s neck, he brought it up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss onto Atem’s fingers. Seto moved his lips to his knuckles, then slowly uncurled from where he was pressed against Atem, pulling his hand along and turning it over to kiss Atem’s inner wrist gently. As Seto looked at him sweetly from under his lashes, Atem gasped softly, coffee and breakfast forgotten. Seto smiled tenderly at his expression and turned back to his task, kissing slowly up his forearm, reverent presses of lips against skin.
Once Seto reached the rolled-up sleeves of his sweatshirt, his lips quirked and the kisses became more playful and insistent, enough so that Atem could feel them through the fabric. When his mouth found its way to Atem’s shoulder, Seto slowed again, leaving longer, more forceful kisses as he made his way back to Atem’s neck. Once there, he nosed the fabric of the hood out of the way, rested his lips against Atem’s jugular, and inhaled deeply.
“I love the smell of you on my clothes,” he whispered against Atem’s neck. Normally, Atem would have teased him for his possessive statement, but the display had left him rather breathless, and as Seto mouthed at his neck after speaking, he couldn’t help letting his head fall back with a sigh. Neck now bared to him, Seto continued on his way up Atem’s neck, feather-light kisses that made Atem’s eyelashes flutter and his mouth drop open. A kiss pressed against his jawbone, then Atem was pulled back into Seto’s arms, and he felt his boyfriend’s breath ghost over the curve of his ear. His eyes closed and his pulse picked up in anticipation.
“Your toast is burning”, was whispered hotly against his ear before a nip to its shell, sharp and short as Seto’s arms released him. Atem frowned in confusion before his eyes snapped open and he cursed, stepping away to the stove where the french toast was rapidly turning black. He heard Seto’s low chuckle from behind him and he swore louder, deciding to simply scrap the piece and start anew.
“I should make you eat it, you know,” he stated petulantly, glaring over to where Seto was now helping himself to the coffee Atem had made earlier, flushed all the way to his ears but smirking shamelessly.
“But you won’t”, Seto said, and though his smile was hidden by the rim of the mug, Atem could see it in his eyes, the blue for once clear of any storm and lit from within with a gentle and joyful spark. And Atem found himself smiling back, helplessly.
“No. I won’t.”