Birds of Feather

Chapter 21: Tension

You woke up expecting to be tangled up in, and weighed down by Marco's limbs, but instead you awoke to an empty bed. Groggily looking around the smell of coffee was reassuring.

You took your time, stretching muscles that were still a little sore despite Marco doing whatever he had done before. Apparently there was a limit, and some of that had to do with how little stamina you had left. Considering you practically rag-dolled on him in the shower, it was small wonder you were sore this morning.

Or afternoon maybe. The sun had been threatening to come up on the horizon by the time you two had finally stopped for the night.

It seems when supplies aren't the limiting factor, your stamina was. It didn't bother you, but at the same time you were a little worried as to just how much stamina he had. You might not be a professional athlete, but you were still strong enough to haul that injured dog a couple blocks without breaking a sweat.

Picking up the nearest shirt you could find, you slipped it on, and walked slowly out of your bedroom and down the hall. You could smell more than coffee in the hall, and a softly hummed song was drifting out of the kitchen.

Stopping at the end of the hallway, you leaned against the wall, watching Marco use your kitchen like he owned the place. You could smell something roasting in the oven, and the scent of either bacon or cured ham coming from the stove top. You recognized the song Marco was humming, an older rock song that was almost before your time.

You'd assert it was the humming that made you stay back to listen, but the view wasn't bad either. Sweatpants and a white t-shirt never looked better, as far as you were concerned.

Deciding closer was better than where you were, you stepped into the area properly, letting your bare feet hit the wooden floor a little heavier than usual. You catch the slightest flinch in his movements, but he recovers very quickly.

"Good morning, pretty bird." He hums, turning toward you as you seat yourself at the breakfast bar. "I was hoping for breakfast in bed, but this'll work."

"Already-ack." Your voice comes out like gravel, and you cough a few times before trying again. "Already taking over my kitchen." You try to say it flippantly, but you sound like a pack a day smoker. You take an offered cup of coffee and give him a smile before taking a sip. The warm liquid does feel good, but it does nothing to help your current situation.

"You stole my voice." You grumble at him, watching his face splotch red in places as he smiles sheepishly.

"My apologies, yoi." He says, pressing his lips together to suppress a smile. "Do you feel alright otherwise?"

You nod. "Sore, but I don't feel sick." If anything you feel better than you have for months. Though you're pretty certain the extra exercise isn't strictly to blame. "What's for breakfast?"

"Roasted potatoes and peppers, and some bacon. I can toss a couple fried eggs in, if you want, yoi." He says. "There's enough time before the bacon's done."

You grin. "Someone wore me out last night, eggs are probably a good idea."

Marco leans across the breakfast bar and kisses the top of your head. "As you wish, mi cielo." You can feel the heat rush through you at his words more than the chaste kiss, and you turn your attention to your coffee as he pulls out some eggs to add to the meal.

"Technically though, I think it's lunch." He admits, nodding toward the clock in your kitchen. A little after noon.

"It's eight a.m. somewhere." You say coarsely, and pull a laugh out of him.