Kent Parson yawns and stretches as he steps out of the hallway and into the open floor-plan living area and kitchen. He scratches at his stomach and his arm and his head when he stops, watching Derek hunched over a spread of papers and his macbook.

Kent clears his throat and Derek scribbles on one of the papers. Kent walks up right behind him and Derek turns back to his laptop.

Kent takes in a deep breath that almost turns into another yawn and lets it out slow as he wraps one of his hands around Derek's forehead and leans down so his mouth is next to Derek's ear.

“Three...”

Derek freezes.

“...Two...”

Derek makes a mark with a pencil and caps his pen.

“...One.” Kent stands up just enough to kiss Derek on the mouth when he pulls his head back.

“Morning,” Derek greets when Kent pulls far enough away for them to look each other in the eye.

“Morning,” Kent greets with a smirk.

Derek twists around in the chair and suddenly neither appears upside down for the other and Kent realizes Derek's still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night when Kent had gone to bed with a promise of “one more section” from Derek.

“Did you eat breakfast?” he asks, instead, still eyeing the rumpled pants and shirt.

“Kinda got caught up...” Derek admits sheepishly, stretching his arms and back and groaning as he rolls his neck.

“I imagine you completed more than one section, then?” Kent asks, rolling his eyes and stepping into the kitchen. He looks over the counter to see Derek nod, his attention already slipping back to his latest copyediting job.

“No more work until coffee and food,” Kent reminds him, “It took almost two days for the ink to fade the last time you accidentally gnawed through your pen.”

Derek groans. “I'm almost done.”

Kent turns the stove on and lets a pan heat up as he pulls out a few eggs and pops thick-sliced sourdough in the toaster. “I thought you had until next week for this one? Must be good if you can't put it down.”

“No...” Derek begins before widening his eyes and groaning again—this time in embarrassment. “I mean, it's good, yeah, but it's my last project for a bit and round 2 starts tomorrow in Chicago and I just thought...I could do it in time, you know?”

He's staring at the table, not at Kent as he says it all because Derek hasn't had problems with expressing his emotions since they started seriously dating, but he still has issues with seeing how they're taken. Kent doesn't mind it so much because his face is red right now and he kinda wants to cry and giggle. He ducks his head and cracks the eggs in the pan, instead, shuffling his feet until the toaster pops and they both jump, just like they do every morning they have toast.

Kent serves the toast and eggs up on plates and carries both out to the table where Derek has managed to consolidate his work to one fourth of the table's surface area. Kent sets a plate in front of Derek and in front of the seat next to him. Before he sits, however, he rests his hand on the back of Derek's chair and leans into his space once again.

“You really wanna come with me for all the games?” he asks, unsure but awed at the suggestion.

Derek shrugs and picks up and plays with the fork the way he always does with pens or knick knacks when he's anxious or embarrassed. “Thought it might be nice. I know everything's over next month no matter what, but...we haven't spent more than a few days together at a time since bye week.”

Kent drops his head into Derek's neck and moans before throwing himself into his chair and digging into his food. “Eat breakfast and brush your teeth. I need to kiss you properly, like, five minutes ago.”

Derek grins and laughs, but picks up a piece of the toast and uses it to pop the egg yolk and soak it up.

“Still not wearing your jersey,” he says.

“It's alright. We're playing the Hawks, so I know you'll still be in Aces gear.”

“I'll wear Lassie's number,” Derek chirps.

“Oh bro, he'd love that,” Kent realizes and Derek snorts.

“So tell me what it's about,” Kent says and points his fork at the pile of papers with red marks splattered across the visible pages.

Derek smiles and his shoulders drop as he sets his fork on his plate so that he can talk with his hands as he explains the way the biography he's copyediting is framed to produce an amazing commentary on the social and cultural fallout of...well, Kent doesn't quite get all of it, but Derek's eyes are glowing and his breakfast is going cold and it's a good thing Kent forgot their coffee because nothing taller than 4 inches is safe when Derek gets this into what he's talking about.