Disclaimer: Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for creating a world I could get lost in and characters that I have come to love.
"Get back in bed," Percy grumbled, words an incoherent mess. He felt Oliver pause before warm lips brushed over his temple, the only part of his body not smothered by their comforter. Fingers ran lightly over his hair and then Oliver was gone.
The door made a soft click as it was shut, and Percy burrowed himself even further, letting the muffled noise of Oliver moving around in the next room lull him back into a doze. It was in the silence of a Sunday morning an undetermined amount of time later that Percy slowly became aware of a world outside his warm bed and soft dreams.
As with any other morning, his eyes would be the first to struggle awake in a slow blink while the rest of his body remained still, heavy and languid. Mind completely clear, he would briefly stare at whatever fell into his line of sight (his second favorite mornings being when that was Oliver). Then came the unconscious drum of his fingers over the mattress before he would pull his arm back in and under him as he fought the need to wake by burying his face directly into the pillow and groaning. Eventually, he'd turn to stare at the opposite wall before attempting a sitting position. That done and another bout of staring and he'd drag himself out of bed, nearly taking the entire comforter with him (woe to the morning Oliver would sleep late) in his trek to the bathroom.
He could never wrap his mind around how Oliver could just wake up and roll out of bed. The few times he'd had to do so out of necessity, he wound up running into the wall or knocking over the lamp, and once ended up slithering down to the floor where he stayed until Oliver found him. He didn't stop laughing until Percy grabbed him by the back of the knee and yanked. Neither one had made it to work on time that morning.
But in this morning, with the beginning of his morning ritual complete, he found himself glaring down at the comforter innocently laying on the floor as if it had been the one to force him from its embrace. He stumbled to the door and into the hall, tempted by the smell of the coffee Oliver would put on for him before his morning run.
With the promising start of a typical morning, he wasn't expecting for his foot to hit something on his way to the kitchen. He watched in startled bewilderment as a small object went skittering down the hall and into the living room. He hesitated and then went after it, spotting the unusual (with the trepidation Oliver would never experience growing up an only child) by the side of the chair. Kneeling down, he gently picked it up, the cheap plastic of a little purple egg opening in his hand to reveal a toffee.
The front door unlocked and Oliver was there, all sunshine and bright smiles, sweaty and wonderful, eyes latching onto where Percy knelt, egg and toffee in the process of a careful scrutiny. "You found one," he quipped cheerfully, striding forward to drop a quick kiss on Percy's lips.
Percy's comprehension skills were much slower to rise in the morning, and it took him a moment, but when it hit. "One?" He turned his head this way and that, and sure enough there was another one, a little yellow egg, sitting on top of the coffee machine.
He sat there on the floor for a moment as Oliver moved to the kitchen, taking the time to scan the room suspiciously as if expecting brightly colored eggs to come rolling out of the woodwork to drown them in candy. But there were no eggs in sight besides the first two culprits and he cast Oliver an imposing glance. "How many are there?" he asked.
Oliver took a sip of his water, leaned back against the kitchen counter, and grinned.
