the apartment smells like burnt toast.

he swears he didn’t mean to screw it up — he was trying to surprise you. sort of. he didn’t set an alarm or anything, just woke up tangled in your sheets and decided, today’s the day i make her breakfast.

he’s in nothing but sweats, hair sticking up in every direction, one sock on, one missing. and the stove? the stove is not cooperating.

he curses under his breath and shoves the pan aside.

“babe?” your voice comes from down the hall, sleepy and soft.

“stay in bed,” he calls out, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. “i’m almost done.”

you shuffle in anyway, oversized t-shirt (his, obviously) brushing your thighs. he pauses when he sees you. you rub your eyes, yawning. “something’s burning.”

“…just the toast,” he admits, lips tugging into a guilty smile. “it looked easier in the tiktok.”

you laugh — the kind that makes his whole chest warm. “you’re watching recipes now?”

“shut up. i was trying to be romantic.”

you cross to him, arms looping around his waist as you press your face into his bare chest. he smells like laundry detergent and a little bit like smoke. your favorite scent.

“this is romantic,” you mumble against his skin. “minus the charred bread.”

his hand slides up your back. slow. warm. “yeah?”

“mhmm.”

he dips his head to kiss your hair. “so… you’re saying i can burn stuff more often and still get cuddles?”

you look up, smirking. “i’m saying if you bring me coffee right now, i’ll forgive everything.”

he steps away dramatically, overcorrects and almost slips on the sock he lost earlier.

“okay, so… breakfast is a bust,” he mutters. “but coffee? i can handle that.”

you sink into the couch as he clatters around the kitchen, mumbling to himself, trying to figure out the coffee machine you both forget how to use every few days.

and when he brings it to you — too much sugar, barely warm — he kneels beside you and rests his chin on your knee.

“if i build you a whole life,” he says, low, “can it be like this forever?”

your fingers thread into his hair.

“yeah, rafe. just like this.”