Summary:

After losing out on his favorite breakfast to a bratty interloper, Kurt finds another way to rescue his morning ... and sate his appetite.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Kurt peeks up, locking eyes with his son just as he puts the finishing touches on his favorite breakfast in the universe – a buckwheat Belgian waffle, smothered in maple syrup, topped with berries, powdered sugar, and whipped topping. There was only enough mix to make the one waffle, and considering the fact that neither Sebastian nor Thomas was awake yet, having spent the whole night up till one in the morning playing Monster Hunter on the Nintendo Switch, Kurt thought he'd be safe to have this one before he ran out to the market to get more.

As Thomas waddles over, rubbing his eyes, led to the kitchen island entirely by his sniffing nose, Kurt realizes how wrong he was.

Nothing can defeat the powerful aroma of a freshly made waffle.

It's one of the few indulgences Kurt allows himself to have, and now … it's in danger.

"I'm having a little breakfast before I run to the store to buy you and Daddy breakfast," Kurt says, declaring clearly his intention to eat this waffle before he goes out to procure food for his loved ones. It's both calm and logical – neither of which ever seems to matter to a nine-year-old, no matter what the parenting books say.

Thomas climbs up onto a stool and gives another more obvious sniff inches away from Kurt's breakfast.

"It smells really good," he says, stomach growling as if on cue. "And I'm really hungry."

"Well, I can whip you up an omelet now," Kurt says, reaching for the carton of eggs without taking his eyes off Thomas, creeping closer to his breakfast. "Then I'll make you a waffle when I get back from the store if you're still hungry."

"But I don't like eggs!"

"Since when do you not like eggs? You eat them all the time!"

"Since now!" Thomas reaches out a hand to snatch a berry, but Kurt moves the plate out of his reach.

"No, Thomas! Now I told you, I'll make you …"

"Morning, guys!" Sebastian says, strolling into the kitchen, yawning and stretching in the doorway, reaching his arms above his head until his back cracks.

Kurt doesn't finish his sentence.

He can't help but stop and look.

Usually Sebastian takes the time to put on a shirt, brush his teeth, and comb down his hair before he walks into the kitchen. But lured by the smell of Kurt's breakfast (which Kurt knows because he's stumbling in the same way Thomas did, with eyes squinted shut and his nose in the air), he joins the party with hair mussed and sans shirt, the waistband of his wrinkled lounge pants pulled down to his hips, putting an array of smooth chest and defined abs on marvelous display.

He doesn't look like a man who went to bed late after playing video games with his young son.

He looks like he rolled out of bed after spending a whole night being thoroughly fucked … and since that absolutely did not happen, and hasn't for a while, Kurt is driven to distraction.

His mouth starts to water. His stomach tightens. And behind the shield of the kitchen island, his cock throbs.

"Why, hello, handsome," Kurt says, giving his husband a lecherous once-over as he wanders over, leaning in to give his husband a kiss, and oh my. Sebastian actually did take a moment to brush his teeth. So, why the disheveled look? Is that all for Kurt's benefit?

God, he hopes it is.

Thomas's eyes bounce from father to father as the two start getting all gross and lovey, focused on talking about their plans for the day. Seizing the opportunity, Thomas grabs the plate, leans forward, and licks the waffle right down the middle, gathering up berries on his tongue and a huge dollop of whipped cream on his nose.

Kurt catches the boy a half-second too late to save his breakfast.

"Thomas Erick Hummel-Smythe!"

"Ha-ha!" Thomas crows. "I licked it! That means I claimed it! It's mine now!"

Kurt glares at his son, then turns on his husband. "Sebastian!"

"What!?" he asks, completely bewildered.

"That's your son! Eating the last waffle! My waffle!"

Sebastian nods. "Okay. I see what you mean," he says, watching Thomas unashamedly grab Kurt's fork and dig into the waffle with glee. He'd discipline Thomas, but he has no leg to stand on. That's totally something he would have done if given the chance, and Thomas knows it. "I'll make it up to you. I'll go out right now and get another box of mix. Or eff that. Let me go down to that breakfast spot you like and get you one, all made and stuff."

Kurt watches his husband shuffle away, pants sinking lower on his hips till the crack of his ass shows, his back rippling with muscles he's managed to hold on to quite well after all these years.

"Actually," Kurt says, jogging to catch up. He grabs his husband's hand and drags him toward the door, seizing an opportunity of his own. "I have a better idea."

"Oh?" Sebastian lets Kurt lead him, still blurry-eyed but ready to jump on board any idea that makes Kurt grin the way he is. "And that is …?"

"We're going to the bedroom. There's a few things I feel like claiming."