Junmyeon groaned when he awoke. His waist was killing him, and his legs were pleasantly sore. He stretched and grimaced when several joints popped. A laugh made him turn, and instinctively, a smile curved on his lips. Yixing stood beside the bed, a pile of bedsheets draped over his arm. He had already stripped one pillow out of its case, tucking it into a new buttercup yellow one.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teased.

Junmyeon pushed the covers aside, meandering over to the side of the bed. He stretched up, looping his arms around Yixing’s neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“You destroyed me last night,” he mumbled against his lips, grinning when heat rushed into Yixing’s cheeks.

Junmyeon pulled away, thumbing over Yixing’s cheekbones fondly before sliding out from under the covers.

Yixing had already drawn back the curtains, sunshine seeping into the room. He padded over to the closet, shaking his head when he felt his fiancé’s eyes on him.

“Don’t even think about it,” Junmyeon warned as he opened the closet door. “It’s my turn to top tonight.”

Yixing whined even as he turned back to the bed, tugging the bedsheets off the mattress.

“I can’t even you off?”

Junmyeon pulled his head out of the closet to narrow his eyes at him.

“Do you really want to get that nice shirt dirty?” he asked, grinning when Yixing pouted.

A fresh shower later, he stepped out to see that their bedsheets had already been changed. His mouth watered when a delicious smell wafted through the air, and he followed it into the kitchen to see Yixing pulling loaf pans out of the oven.

“What is this?” Junmyeon asked, wrapping his arms around Yixing’s waist. He pressed a kiss to Yixing’s bare shoulder, tugging gently at the shirt collar that had slipped too far down. “You were up early enough to bake bread?”

“Mmm. It’s your favourite,” Yixing said, turning around to kiss Junmyeon’s nose. “I bought Baekhyun’s jam the other day, if you want some.”

“Always spoiling me,” Junmyeon joked, lifting his head to accept a proper kiss on his lips. He drifted away after one last peck, pulling out Yixing’s favourite tea set from the cupboards.

Junmyeon unscrewed the cap of the tea leaves, inhaling deeply. He was fonder of coffee, but after so much time spent living with Yixing, he had grown to appreciate the subtle fragrance of earl grey. The kettle rattled when he set it on the stove, switching on the fire. It was a soothing sound.

The coffee machine whirred to life just as Junmyeon pulled the milk carton out of the fridge. He looked over to see Yixing’s fond smile, warmth bursting open like a sunflower in his chest.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Just you,” Yixing answered, sidling over after he had set down his bread knife. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks heated, and he swatted at his fiance’s shoulder, heading back over to his side of the counter to pour the milk into the tiny little pitchers that Yixing liked so much. They were really very cute, though Junmyeon would never admit it out loud, made of a greyish blue porcelain speckled like a robin’s egg.

Yixing had bought them from a vintage market in France, along with the tea set, insisting that he could not possibly drink tea without a tea pot and matching teacups. Junmyeon could almost still taste the raspberry lemongrass drink that Yixing had forced into his hand, see the way the sun turned Yixing’s then platinum hair silver.

“Earth to Junmyeonnie,” Yixing called, and Junmyeon blinked. The kettle was whistling, a sound that was not unlike a swim coach’s whistle. He turned off the stove, carefully pouring the hot water over the tea leaves in the pot.

Yixing owned an excessive number of tea trays. Four, to be exact. Junmyeon too often about it, but he secretly admired them. He set the teapot with its personal coaster onto the nearest tray, arranging the teacups and pitchers of milk around them. The final touch, a matching sugar pot.

“I was thinking of painting our front door yellow,” Yixing commented when they carried their breakfast out into the dining room. “It would bring so much colour to the front of the house.”

The sun shone through the floor to ceiling windows, casting soft rays over his face when he set down the freshly baked bread. Junmyeon inhaled, the smell of strawberries and butter filling his nostrils.

“What, your curtains aren’t enough colour for you?” Junmyeon teased. Yixing had insisted on the butter-yellow drapes that framed their living room window, saying that they were such a happy colour. Junmyeon could not agree more, but it was his job to anyway.

Yixing pouted, and Junmyeon took his chance to grab him by the waist, dragging him in to kiss the pout away. He carded his fingers through Yixing’s hair, kissing his jaw before pulling out the chair for him.

“Such a gentleman,” Yixing said, but his eyes shone when he sat down, visibly charmed by Junmyeon’s show of chivalry.

Junmyeon stuck his tongue out at him, pulling the other chair up as close to him as he possibly could. He leaned into Yixing’s space, picking up the butter knife. Yixing looked down at him in amusement, but left him be, reaching out to pull the tea tray closer to him.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a yellow engagement ring,” Junmyeon said as he buttered his toast. “Since you like it so much.”

Yixing laughed aloud, setting the teapot down before he could splash tea everywhere.

“I like the engagement ring you bought,” he said, leaning in to bump Junmyeon’s shoulder. “It feels like a piece of you.”

Junmyeon’s face went hot and he slathered butter more vigorously on his toast.

“You’re a sap,” he muttered, and Yixing’s smile grew brighter.

“I’m your sap.”