Luis would never understand how forgiving Dylan was of his lapses, but he wouldn’t question it, in great parts because he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer to it. In others, he was simply silently grateful. “Of course.” Luis had half forgotten about why they had stepped into the shower in the first place, given how stupidly distracting Dylan’s presence could be to him, and he nodded. Giving him a little space to do so, he leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, then stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel to dry off his hair first, so he wouldn’t end up soaking the sheets. A second towel slung around his hips—for dryness, not modesty, they were very far past that—Luis returned to the sink to brush his teeth. He moved around Dylan’s bathroom with the same ease that he moved around his own house, and for the longest time he had tried to ignore the inherent domesticity of it all, especially moments like this. By now, he barely even noticed it. “I still expect that coffee tomorrow morning,” said half around the toothbrush, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips; equal parts reassurance and asking if his staying was still wanted.
The smile Dylan gave Luis after the kiss to his cheek was nothing short of adoring and it continued even after Luis got out of the shower. Letting himself be happy could be a struggle, Dylan’s own thoughts often spoiling things for him, but he shook them off now. He quickly started to wash up, a process that was admittedly faster although less enjoyable without the distraction of Luis in the shower. “No earlier than nine, I believe you specified,” Dylan said in return before ducking his head under the shower spray to rinse off. He got out of the shower and grabbed a towel to dry himself off before moving nearer to Luis to press a kiss to his temple, the damp strands of his hair tickling Dylan’s nose. “Will pancakes do for breakfast, or would you prefer something else?” he asked, moving a little so he could start to brush his teeth as well. Discussing breakfast while doing something simple like brushing his teeth next to Luis was oddly soothing in how natural it felt now.
“Not a minute sooner,” Luis agreed with a nod, still frothy at the mouth, before he rinsed and washed up, his toothbrush returned to where it belonged. Pancakes always struck him as quintessentially American. Back when he had been a kid, his family had rarely made them: his father had usually ruined them and they had settled for something else pretty quickly, pancakes had only become a regular occurrence once his mother had remarried, and Luis carried a petty dislike for them since that had nothing to do with pancakes themselves. Petulant, was what he was. “I prefer savory,” Luis pointed out, hopefully in a way that said he wouldn’t turn down any breakfast made for him, lest he be rude, or even unappreciative of the gesture. He dried himself off and returned the towel to the heater, carefully draped so it wouldn’t fall, and stopped for a moment to silently watch Dylan’s back from where he stood, then shook his head softly. No dwelling, no reverie. Instead, he gently rested his hand between Dylan’s shoulder blades for just a second, then made for the bed again. “Don’t take too much time. Bed’s waiting.”