The morning had already settled in by the time Charlie was halfway through his routine.

The kitchen was warm, not just from the oven but from the quiet rhythm of everything being in its place. Dough rested beneath his hands as he worked, never rushing. Mornings like this weren’t meant for that.

He let out a soft breath, glancing toward the oven before adjusting it slightly, careful in a way that came from habit rather than thought. “Yeah… that should do,” he murmured, mostly to fill the silence.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t last long. His attention drifted toward the edge of the room, the part of the house that still felt newer, still yours in ways he wasn’t quite used to yet. Your tools rested neatly where you had left them, a half-finished piece of wood waiting nearby. He slowed as he passed, brushing his thumb lightly over the surface before pulling back, like he might disturb something.

He wiped his hands against a cloth and reached for the bread that had cooled enough to handle, setting it aside with more care than necessary.

It had only been a few weeks of shared morning, shared space and learning where your things belonged in his house now.

Then came the sound above him.

He stilled for half a second before moving again, quick to look busy.

“Morning,” he called, just a little too fast, just a little too careful as you came down the stairs, still touched by sleep. “I—I wasn’t sure when you’d be up, so I just went ahead,”

He stopped himself, exhaling quietly through his nose, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

"I set breakfast,” he said softer this time, glancing briefly toward you before looking away just as quickly when he blushed. “Bread, and cheese. It’s still warm.”