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Leo opened one eye. “How do you know?”
Tristan grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Babe, nobody sleeps with their eyes all scrunched up like that. Also, you answered me.”
Leo gave up and opened his other eye. “Yeah, that was a bit of a giveaway.”
Tristan rolled away from him for a moment. Leo heard a plastic rustling sound that his hopeful brain—and dick—interpreted as ‘condom’ then Tristan was back beside him, propped up on one elbow. He held out a bag. “Mint?”
Leo’s brain and dick took a moment to wrestle with their disappointment. “What?”
Tristan rattled the bag. “Do you want a mint?”
“I…what?”
“Morning breath,” Tristan said. “I’m not a fan, but I promised you sex this morning, and I’m not getting out of bed to brush my teeth first.”
“That’s hot,” Leo whispered, his eyes widening. “But I need to pee.”
Tristan held his gaze for a moment, then groaned. “Fuck. Me, too. Okay, so toilet, then breakfast, then we brush our teeth and then we have sex all day? Or at least until muscle strain and chafing takes us out of the game.”
“So romantic,” Leo said with a snort.
“I have my moments.”
“This isn’t one of them, is it?”
Tristan gasped and clutched his heart. “Leo! Are you saying I’m not charming?”
“I might re-evaluate my opinion if you make me breakfast.”
“Mmm.” Tristan shook his head. “I love that you think that might happen, but, trust me, if I made you breakfast, your opinion of me would not improve. I am a terrible cook. Unless you want toast. I can probably make you toast, though Harry says my toast is really just warm bread. Apparently if you can’t snap it in half, it’s not real toast.” He raised his eyebrows. “What are your opinions on toast, Leo Fisher?”
Leo blinked. “It should be crunchy?”
Tristan sighed. “Yeah, no. My breakfast-making skills are going to leave you very disappointed, I’m afraid.”
“So when you offered me toast the other night, it was going to be sub-par?”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“It was cute,” Leo insisted. “Weird, but cute.”
“Fine. My failed attempt at acting like a boyfriend was cute. Now, let’s please never mention it again.”
Leo didn’t like the hint of insecurity he glimpsed behind Tristan’s smile. He reached for his hand and squeezed it. “You’re an amazing boyfriend. You just can’t make toast. And that’s not exactly a deal-breaker, because I can, so I’ll just make all the toast in this relationship.”
Tristan wrinkled his nose. “Is this you offering to make me breakfast instead, or is it a metaphor? Because I have to tell you, I almost failed English Lit when they made me take it in my first year.”
Leo laughed, then groaned as his head thumped and his hangover flared. “I’ll make you breakfast. But yes, it was also a metaphor.”
Tristan kissed him again, on the lips this time. His breath was minty-fresh. “You can explain it to me over our firm, crunchy toast. Come on. I’m starving.”
Chapter Thirteen
In a stroke of incredible luck, Jack was already making breakfast by the time Tristan and Leo made their way downstairs.
“Omelettes or scrambled eggs?” he asked, working the stovetop like the god among men that he was. “Harry’s gone to buy juice because we’re out, and Advil for his hangover. Please don’t give him gin again. He watched kitten videos on YouTube and cried.”
“Sad videos?” Tristan asked. “Why would he?—?”
