No More Wishes (Cheating!Reiner X Bertholdt Fanfic)

Part 8

Last night was a shitshow.

That was the clearest thought in Reiner's brain. It was dragged out through the fog of sleep by the buzzing of his phone alarm. Other senses were roused gradually under the sunlight. His eyes opened slowly, still stuck and irritated due to the exhaustion of crying and the salinity of dried tears from the night prior. His groaning muffled by the sheets, Reiner reached out to blindly feel for his phone. He was too reluctant to even push himself up.

After turning off the alarm, he buried his face in his pillow. Last night's memories returned and caused his chest to tighten. Fuck, they were awful. he reached out for Bertholdt, hoping to cling to him. However, his hand was met with air instead of a curved back. Reiner's head lifted and he turned to see nothing but the dip in the spot adjacent to him. The confusion faded with the sound of running water from the tap in the kitchen.

With no small effort, he dragged himself out of bed. Reiner hobbled out of the bedroom and was greeted with an uncharacteristically busy atmosphere. Frantic activity had jostled the morning air out of its normal calm. The TV reporter's voice droned lowly under the whistle of a kettle and the sizzles of something on a pan. A fatty and savory smell hung in the air, and while pleasing to the nose, was stinging his eyes. Reiner tiptoed over to the kitchen and stopped at the entrance to peer inside.

Bertholdt was frying something in a pan, intently staring at his work on the stove. Toast was stacked on a plate to the side. The idea of startling Bertholdt was tempting, but he knew well enough to not do so. He cleared his throat instead to get his attention. "Morning."

Bertholdt looked up.  A welcoming smile that caused Reiner to almost go weak in the knees flashed on his face, but what truly enamored him was the boyish vigor in his husband's eyes. How long had it been since he'd seen that sparkle? The fulfillment of reuniting with an old friend propelled Reiner forward, and before he knew it, he was clinging onto Bertholdt, unwilling to let him slip away.

"Good morning," Bertholdt laughed, trying to gently push Reiner away. When it was to no avail, he added, "Reiner, I've got to get to work early."

"Why?" he playfully groaned, already becoming accustomed to the texture of Bertholdt's cardigan.

"Meeting. New sales pitches. Erwin will have my head if I don't make it on time."

He dropped his arms and let them hang at his sides, but his head remained pressed against Bertholdt. "You'll have to drag me along with you," he compromised.

Bertholdt's chest rose up and down quickly as he chuckled, causing Reiner to laugh at the odd undulations. "Get off. I'm trying to make you breakfast." Another gentle push.

Reiner finally straightened and tilted his head to check the contents of the pan. Bacon and eggs crackled, almost submerged in a thick layer of oil. He glanced at Bertholdt curiously, who flushed and stared at the pan.

"I wanted to try and get back into cooking every morning. But, uh...I might've overestimated the amount of butter needed."

"You're hopeless when it comes to frying, aren't you?" Reiner pinched his cheek affectionately before slipping the handle of the pan into his own palm. "Don't look at me like that — you're plenty good at everything else. This just seems to be your Achilles heel. Have you eaten already?"

"Yeah. I was gonna make breakfast for the two of us, but you were pretty fast asleep, so I decided to make you a second round before I left."

"Then I'll take care of this. You head on to work."

"No. I started this, so I should finish it."

"Bertl. This thing's not gonna fry any faster thanks to your hovering. You should just slap on some cologne and catch the next train.