Work Text:
Sundays are his favorite days. Weekdays are busy, there's not enough time, and Stiles is gone for work. And Stiles always insists on being social on Saturdays. But on Sundays, that's when he gets to sleep in until late morning with Stiles curled around him. He gets slow lazy kisses while trying to wake up as they lie together in the sun streaming through their bedroom window. Stiles brings him hot coffee in bed and sits pressed against his side as they drink it and talk about what they're going to do for the day (they usually come to the conclusion of: not much).
He gets Stiles making breakfast in his boxers, the sizzling of bacon in the pan, and sweet fresh strawberries that burst with flavor on his tongue. He gets Stiles' thumb rubbing small circles on the back of his hand as they sit across from each other and eat at the small kitchen table. He gets long-drawn-out showers where Stiles washes his hair, and he washes Stiles' hair, and they make out until their fingertips go wrinkly and they run out of hot water. When they finally get out and dry off, they put on clean pajamas, or sometimes they stay in boxers for the day.
They might bake something together that Stiles can take as a snack to work for the week, and while it cooks in the oven, he gets to lift Stiles onto the countertop, stand between his legs, and kiss him without any intentions for something more. And when the muffins or cookies are done, they eat them while they're still hot and steaming. Or some Sundays, they crawl onto the couch together, Stiles nestled into his side, arm hooked over his waist, hands idly tracing patterns against skin, and they watch a movie, or he reads to Stiles while Stiles lies there all calm and quiet in a way he hardly ever is.
And on Sundays, he gets to have family dinners again. Late in the afternoon, they put on proper clothes and head over to Noah's house—sometimes Scott and Melissa join them too. Music plays in the background on Claudia's old record player, music he remembers his parents listening to when he was young. As the three of them work to get dinner prepped and cooked, Stiles and Noah bicker over Noah's choice of meat for the dinners. On warm days they sit on the back patio long after they've finished dinner, talking about all kinds of things and nothing at all.
When they return to their apartment, they're in no rush as they undress each other, their hands touching everywhere they can reach, their kisses deep and sweet. And they have slow, passionate sex where the only goal is to be closer to one another. The kind that he's inclined to call lovemaking, the kind that he's never had with anyone else.
Afterward, when they finally lie down to sleep and Stiles curls around him as the big spoon, he forces himself to stay awake even while Stiles drifts off. He listens to the steady heartbeat of the man he loves, the soft snores that start up when Stiles falls into a deep sleep. He takes in the feeling of Stiles' bare skin pressed against his own, the feeling of Stiles' arms holding him tight, the feeling of being safe and home. And he tries to hang on to Sunday as long as he can.