Prompt: Erik and Charles sleep in and then make breakfast. I feel for fluff.
Sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a square of warmth onto the bed. A young black kitten with a streak of white on her face leapt into the puddle of light and curled up, purring softly. Charles, woken by the sudden weight on his feet, opened his eyes and stretched. Erik was still asleep beside him, his eyelashes brushing against the soft white pillow, his face relaxed. Charles smiled and watched him sleep for a couple of minutes, thinking of the past night and trying to memorize every detail of Erik's face. Then he leaned in and kissed him gently.
Erik stirred, a smile taking shape on his lips. "That's how I like to wake up," he murmured groggily. He reached a hand up, running his fingers through Charles' hair and pulling him down for another kiss.
After a minute, Charles pulled away. "Put on some pants, sleepy-head."
"Is it time for breakfast?"
"Well, it's time for lunch, really. But close enough."
"Are the pants mandatory?"
Charles laughed. "Are they ever?" He scooped up the kitten and padded barefoot into the kitchen. "I was thinking pancakes. Sound good?"
"Better than good," Erik agreed, following Charles, still dressed in only his boxers. "Great."
"Well I'm not doing all the work." Charles went up on his tip-toes, reaching into a cabinet for a box of pancake mix.
"And I would never ask you to," Erik replied, coming up behind Charles and grabbing the box with ease. "Here you are, sir."
Charles snatched the pancake mix. "I could've gotten that."
"Sure you could've," Erik teased. "But you did say you weren't doing all the work. You get the bowl and the skillet, and I'll get the ingredients."
A few minutes later, Erik was stirring the eggs, milk, and mix together, humming to himself as he worked. Charles held out his hand. "Want me to help?" As soon as Erik stepped aside, Charles dipped his finger into the mix and smeared it onto Erik's nose.
Erik gasped. "How dare you?" He shoved his entire hand into the bowl and launched a fistful of liquid pancake in Charles' direction, but Charles side-stepped the breakfast-missile with ease.
"Nice try."
They ran back and forth through the bright, open kitchen, laughing and yelling as the pancake mix flew this way and that, the skillet waiting unused on the stove. As he raced through a puddle of gooey deliciousness, Charles slipped, landing with a thud on the wooden floor. He grunted, was silent for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Erik stepped into the puddle beside him and slipped down to join him.
"Hey Charles. You've got a little something on your cheek." He kissed Charles' flushed cheek.
"Quit it. That egg's raw, you moron. Plus, it can't taste that good."
"I don't care. You're delicious," Erik whispered, kissing him again. "This is even better than breakfast."
"You're an idiot," Charles chuckled, dabbing one final bit of mix onto Erik's mouth before licking it off and kissing him. "And I love you."