[True to form, Bob's been excited about today almost as much as he's been excited about Christmas. Spending time with his family and friends always makes him happy but, this year, Arthur's birthday is providing just as much excitement. Somehow he's managed to weasel the date out of the other man and the rest, as they say, is history.
This morning he's playing the part of attentive... whatever he is, to Arthur. The man is asleep in his bed and Bob, for his part, has made the effort to get up early so he can cook the food he got in especially the day before. This morning's order? A Full English breakfast with a freshly percolated mug of strong coffee.
Twenty minutes later, when the eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans and toast have all been seen to, he carries a tray (Chelsea football club logo emblazoned on it) through to his room, kicks the door open gently with a foot and doesn't stop until he's standing at the side of the bed.]
[ Ever since meeting Bob in a London bar one night, Arthur has known the other has quite the talent for getting information out of him that most other people wouldn't be privy to (especially in the short time they had known each other; most people didn't know such personal things like his birthday until he had known them for a year or so - he and Bob had only known each other for a handful of months).
Arthur was coming to blame himself for such a thing happening, truly wondering if Bob was making him "a soft touch" -- especially with this whole "puppy dog look" that was disturbingly affective despite Arthur knowing exactly what it was.
And yet, here he was once again sleeping in the other man's bed and even though he was able to vaguely smell the food and coffee in his sleep, he was not awake enough to respond properly.
I've been slaving away over pots and pans for you! Come on!
[Bob's grin is far too large for him to be anything close to annoyed about that. He's happy to play housewife, complete with lewd apron still hanging around his neck and tied about his hips. He's pretty naked underneath that.]
This really isn't that exciting if you're going to stay asleep, babe.
[That little nickname on the end, Bob thinks, will probably do the trick. He always gets in trouble over that.]
[ Arthur continues to snore softly through most of the other's words and it isn't until Bob tacks on that "babe" bit that the point man snorts himself awake - that word somehow sticking out enough to wake him up - and he cracks his eyes open enough to squint a glare out at the other man.
He garbles out something that is suppose to sound like "don't call me babe" but it certainly doesn't sound like that at all.
He blinks a few more times before the tray of food registers and the confusion is clear on Arthur's face as he lifts his head up more. The noise he makes is just as confused as he looks and is easier to understand than another attempt at a statement while only half-awake. ]
[There's a smirk, a slightly more cheeky one this time.
Deciding to keep hold of the tray until Arthur looks like he might be able to not knock it onto the floor, Bob carefully risks putting the mug of coffee down on the bedside table. The food he's saving for a time where he thinks Arthur might appreciate it.]
[ Arthur manages to make a face at Bob and his unappreciated cheek before pushing himself up into a more conducive position to finally take the coffee up and start taking sips from it.
After a few sips, he already feels a little more alive.
He then looks over at Bob and his mind is able to process things just a bit better (as is his mouth able to form words needed to make a statement). ]
Yes and yes. Stark-bollock naked under here. Sausage and beans on the plate, too. [He smirks and finally sits himself down on the edge of his bed, gives Arthur the chance to take a look at what he's cooked up.]
I was going to ask you what entertainment you want but... I think I can manage what you're asking for.
[He's still smirking as he places the tray over Arthur's lap, steadies it before withdrawing his hands. the smile he's wearing now looks genuinely, warm and affectionate.]
[ Arthur snorts into his mug before setting it down on the tray over his lap, getting a better look at the spread Bob had made for him before catching that smile.
And all the annoyance he had felt at the other getting the information about his birthday seems to melt away into him feeling... glad that Bob knew.
Careful not to tip the tray, Bob climbs back into bed, sits down and rests up against the headboard at Arthur's side. He's not planning on stealing any of the other man's food today, but it doesn't mean he's going to be able to curb the look he's giving the plate of food.
Arthur rolls his eyes before he reaches up to tug on Bob's apron, pulling him in for a kiss. It's a slow, sweet one that he hopes voices his gratitude to the other man for such a thoughtful gesture.
And, just to make sure, when he pulls away, he brushes his nose with the other while he's still close, eyes soft and voice warm, "Thank you."
Grinning his happiness that he's done the right thing, Bob lifts a hand up to cup Arthur's cheek, pulls him into one final kiss before he's drawing back. He wants to do more than just kiss but the food is already starting to go cold, and he didn't make it just for Arthur to look at.
This morning he's playing the part of attentive... whatever he is, to Arthur. The man is asleep in his bed and Bob, for his part, has made the effort to get up early so he can cook the food he got in especially the day before. This morning's order? A Full English breakfast with a freshly percolated mug of strong coffee.
Twenty minutes later, when the eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans and toast have all been seen to, he carries a tray (Chelsea football club logo emblazoned on it) through to his room, kicks the door open gently with a foot and doesn't stop until he's standing at the side of the bed.]
Oi, birthday boy? Wakey wakey.
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Arthur was coming to blame himself for such a thing happening, truly wondering if Bob was making him "a soft touch" -- especially with this whole "puppy dog look" that was disturbingly affective despite Arthur knowing exactly what it was.
And yet, here he was once again sleeping in the other man's bed and even though he was able to vaguely smell the food and coffee in his sleep, he was not awake enough to respond properly.
With actual words. ]
Blegch.
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[Bob's grin is far too large for him to be anything close to annoyed about that. He's happy to play housewife, complete with lewd apron still hanging around his neck and tied about his hips. He's pretty naked underneath that.]
This really isn't that exciting if you're going to stay asleep, babe.
[That little nickname on the end, Bob thinks, will probably do the trick. He always gets in trouble over that.]
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He garbles out something that is suppose to sound like "don't call me babe" but it certainly doesn't sound like that at all.
He blinks a few more times before the tray of food registers and the confusion is clear on Arthur's face as he lifts his head up more. The noise he makes is just as confused as he looks and is easier to understand than another attempt at a statement while only half-awake. ]
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[There's a smirk, a slightly more cheeky one this time.
Deciding to keep hold of the tray until Arthur looks like he might be able to not knock it onto the floor, Bob carefully risks putting the mug of coffee down on the bedside table. The food he's saving for a time where he thinks Arthur might appreciate it.]
You fancy waking up now to abuse your arteries?
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After a few sips, he already feels a little more alive.
He then looks over at Bob and his mind is able to process things just a bit better (as is his mouth able to form words needed to make a statement). ]
Did you... you made me a full breakfast?
[ A beat and then into his mug. ]
Are you... naked?
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Are you going to eat it or what?
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... the food or your cock?
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You do a good job of keeping yourself warm.
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[He's still smirking as he places the tray over Arthur's lap, steadies it before withdrawing his hands. the smile he's wearing now looks genuinely, warm and affectionate.]
Happy Birthday, Arthur.
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And all the annoyance he had felt at the other getting the information about his birthday seems to melt away into him feeling... glad that Bob knew.
This man.
Arthur gestured for him to move closer. ]
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And, just to make sure, when he pulls away, he brushes his nose with the other while he's still close, eyes soft and voice warm, "Thank you."
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"Eat it! Otherwise I'll think it's shit."
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