You All Over Me [BxB]

Twenty

Theodore is awakened by the sound of a door closing. He grunts as he massages his forehead and then compels himself to sit up, one hand reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. It feels cold, as if someone has recently placed it there for him.

Jacob.

"Jake...?" he utters, taking a sip.

Theodore's eyes flick to the dining area, his heart plummeting when he finds no one. Maybe it was Jacob who shut the door and left. He takes another sip.

The bathroom door suddenly swings open, and Jacob comes out only in boxer shorts, the fringes of his bangs still damp.

"Good morning."

Theodore clamps his lips together, delighted that Jacob stayed.

"What time is it?"

"9 AM. What would you like for breakfast?"

Theodore leaves the bed and saunters to the kitchen bare-footed. "I'll take care of it."

He grabs two eggs and a box of juice from the refrigerator, and then he brings out a can of luncheon meat.

"I'll help," Jacob offers, inching forward, and Theodore becomes aware of his bare body. The scent of his own shampoo emanating from Jacob stirs something within him. It becomes even more pronounced when he recalls Jacob's proposal from the previous night, causing him to break eye contact.

"N-No! It's all good... I can do it."

"Theo, frying is fine. I can fry."

"Okay. I'll cook rice," Theodore mutters. "And please... Put a shirt on."

Jacob, of course, is just trying to be polite and isn't really used to making meals. But he won't stand by and let Theodore do everything. He does as he is told and wears his shirt from the night before.

As soon as he places the scrambled egg on the pan, a small splatter of oil catches him off guard, and he lets out a surprised yelp.

Theodore confines his laughter to a snort. "I told you I'll do it."

His ears turn red. "No, let me do this... I'm getting tired of takeouts and cup noodles, too."

"Alright," Theodore surrenders. "Add a bit of salt."

"Okay."

Jacob stands with a hand on his hip, closely monitoring the eggs as they cook while Theodore sets the dining table.

"I'll fry the luncheon meat, too."

"Okay."

Theodore finds a strange satisfaction in observing Jacob's efforts. His eyebrows furrow as he slices the luncheon meat, some pieces slightly thicker than others.

"Sorry," he whispers shyly.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because I messed them up."

"You didn't." Theodore hands him the spatula. "Go on. I'm starving."

They settle into their usual spots as if it's the most natural thing in the world: Jacob near the kitchen counter and Theodore by the sofa.

They've eaten together so many times, but that morning feels extra pleasant, probably because it is the first time Jacob has actually made something. In the past, their dining routine mostly involved ordering takeout, with a rare occasion when Theodore took charge of the kitchen. It didn't come easy; he had to fight Jacob over it.

Theodore slathers ketchup over his luncheon meat and eggs before passing the bottle to Jacob.

"I didn't realize you like ketchup that much."