The moment he woke up, Martin knew he was alone in the bed. Even if he wasn't used to wake up in his lover's arms – they would usually sleep each on their own side of the bed – the feeling was different when Danny was there.
Looking at the alarm-clock he found out why the stupid thing hadn't gone off to wake him – it was only 5.46 which was fourteen minutes before Martin would have to get up. Yet, with a groan, he pushed away the blanket, sat up, still slightly groggy after just having woken up, and swung his feet over to set them on the ground and finally stand up.
It wasn't unusual for him to wake up before the alarm went off – unlike Danny who'd never open an eye before the annoyingly high-pitched sound pulled him from his dreams – yet, he'd never get up before it. But staying in bed alone wasn't the same.
On a normal morning Martin would have rolled over so he could face Danny and watch the amusing every-morning-sight of his lover fighting against the alarm-clock. After Danny had turned the thing off (Martin was always afraid that some day Danny might slam the clock into the bedroom wall in his half-awake morning rage), he'd usually turn around and would be back to sleep within no time, leaving it to Martin to wake him up again.
Martin sighed with a smile on his face, thinking about it. It was always a drag getting Danny out of bed in the mornings, making Martin wonder how his lover had been able to make it on time for work every morning before he'd moved in with him.
Of course, being asked, Danny had had an explanation for it – like he had an explanation for all of his common or uncommon habits – and Martin hadn't been able to stop laughing for a while after he'd heard about the complicated system of alarm-clocks well placed, guiding Danny's way to the bathroom: "The one that goes off last usually sits beside the shower and once I've gone that far to turn it of I can as well move on into the shower."
It still made Martin grin, thinking of it. Usually.
But nothing was like their usual morning routine, lately. And Martin didn't feel like grinning that morning. He walked towards the bedroom door and opened to be greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a good breakfast, which was just being cooked.
It rarely happened that Danny was the one making breakfast for them, only sometimes on Sundays, after they'd both slept in. But when he did, he did it perfectly. Not only he would make coffee, he even cared to cook a full English breakfast for Martin, just the way he liked it.
Martin couldn't remember when he picked up the habit of having a full warm meal in the morning, but he did remember his mother cooking it for the whole family when he was a kid. The habit had been forgotten for a while when he'd lived alone, until Danny had revived it, after the shooting incident and all that had followed it, eager to feed Martin up, since he'd lost a good amount of weight through it all.
Martin entered the kitchen to find Danny sitting on the table (he seemed to have an aversion to sitting on chairs the common way), dressed in boxers and a loose-fitting t-shirt, watching over the meal he was cooking. He offered Martin a smile, when he opened the door, but Martin didn't miss the signs of yet another sleepless night on Danny's face; most appalling of all the dark circles underneath his eyes that stuck out against the pallor of his skin.
Yet, Danny greeted him cheerfully. "Morning, sunshine. Slept well?"
"Yeah", Martin sighed walking over and placing a soft kiss on his lover's unshaved cheek. "What 'bout you?"
Danny didn't answer. Instead he stood up and walked over to turn the bacon that was in the pan.
"Did you sleep at all?" Martin asked now, unable to keep the concerned tone out of his low voice.
Danny turned around to face him, a mixture of anger and annoyance visible in his dark eyes – which seemed small from the lack of sleep. "Can we not talk about it?" he demanded taking the pan off the heat and putting it on the table. Then the smile returned to his face although it was obvious it cost him quite some effort. "I've made you breakfast. You want coffee as well?"
Martin sighed, sitting down at the table. "Sure. Thanks."
He didn't want to argue with Danny so he sat silently watching as his lover poured them each a cup of steaming hot coffee and eventually sat down opposite Martin, clutching his own cup with both hands, occasionally taking a sip. He made no effort to get himself anything to eat (Danny didn't like fatty foods in the morning so the English breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs and bacon was usually made only for Martin), and they sat in silence each of them lost in thoughts.
Finally Danny stood up, put his empty cup into the sink leaving it there for being cleaned up later and made to leave the room. "Gonna take a shower", he mumbled, barely audible.
"No breakfast again?" Martin asked, his now obvious concern emphasized by a frown.
"'m not hungry…"
"You never seem to be hungry at all, lately."
But Danny probably didn't even hear the last comment – and if he did, he obviously chose to ignore it – but then again, the door had already closed behind him and Martin found himself left alone in the kitchen, with himself listening to what he was saying.