#background noise was ROBBED in the bracket

[bluejayblueskies]

Don't know if you're just doing jmart but 6 or 65 for jontim?

kiss prompt list!

6 - “I’m sorry” kiss | 65 - One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other

I did both! I was incredibly tempted to go an angsty route for this, but then domestic established relationship no entities jontim took over my brain and compelled me to write this.

cw for food

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Tim’s stood in front of the stovetop, stirring still-runny eggs in a skillet with a wooden spoon, when he feels arms wrap around his stomach and a nose press into the space just between his shoulder blades. It might be startling if it weren’t such a regular occurrence. As such, Tim just smiles, continues stirring the eggs, and says lightly, “Morning, Jon.”

 Jon makes an unintelligible, grumbling noise into the soft fabric of Tim’s shirt and burrows closer, standing on his tiptoes so he can hook his chin over Tim’s shoulder. His hair tickles Tim’s neck and cheek. It’s adorable.

 “I was thinking,” Tim continues, “that we could stop by some shops today? There’s that vintage shop I know you’ve been wanting to visit—the one with the little cat status in the window—and I’ve been craving fresh-baked bread, so there’s that bakery across the street from it. Plus, you know, groceries, clothing—standard stuff.”

 Jon hums. “That sounds… acceptable.”

 “Acceptable,” Tim repeats, amused. “Very enthusiastic.”

 “Pardon me for not having an appropriate level of enthusiasm at eight in the morning.”

Tim grins. “You know, I remember when I thought you were a morning person. Turns out, sometimes you’re just so much of a night person that it eventually becomes morning.”

 Sullenly, Jon says, “That was one time, Tim. And it was entirely by accident. I… lost track of time.”

 “Whatever you say,” Tim says cheekily. He gives the eggs another stir before spooning them off the skillet and onto a plate. Then, he turns, ignores Jon’s noise of protest, and presses a quick kiss to Jon’s forehead. “Tea?”

 “Mm.”

 Tim fills the electric kettle with water and turns it on, then leans back against the counter and watches Jon open the fridge, stare into it intently for a few moments, then close it with a small, irritated exhalation. Jon looks at Tim, lips curled down into a frown that’s dangerously close to a pout, and says, “We’re out of milk.”

 “Hence, the shops.” Tim sees the frown on Jon’s face deepen ever so slightly and he says sympathetically, “No tea then, I suppose?”

 Jon leans back against the fridge and shakes his head. “I… I suppose not. It- it’s too bitter black.”

 “Could just add enough sugar that you can’t tell it’s tea anymore.”

 Jon levels him with a flat look. “Tim.”

 “Jon.”

 At Jon’s scowl, Tim sighs fondly, crosses the kitchen, and presses another kiss to Jon’s forehead in an attempt to smooth away the frown lines forming there. “Sorry,” he says with a smile. “Don’t worry; milk will be the first thing on my list. Top priority. Marked for immediate attention.”

 “Good,” Jon says primly. “It is of the utmost importance, after all.”

 A corner of Jon’s mouth turns up, a sliver of a smirk. He’s wearing one of Tim’s hoodies and his hair is a thick, sleep-tangled mess and he has blue-grey bags under his eyes. And sure, Tim’s known that he loves Jon for quite some time, and they’ve been dating for nearly two years now (long enough that he’s begun to surreptitiously create a list of potential rings), but he’s always reminded of it when he least expects it. Here, in the early morning, with the smell of salt and pepper in the air and the whirring of the kettle in the background, he’s overcome with affection that blooms within him like a rose, free of thorns and a deep, brilliant red.

 He wants to kiss Jon, so badly. And so he leans forward, places a hand on Jon’s cheek to tilt his head up ever so slightly, and presses a soft, chaste kiss to Jon’s lips. He feels Jon’s startled exhalation against his mouth and he smiles, pulling back enough to say, “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

 Jon’s breath hitches. It does so every time, like it’s the first time Tim’s ever said the words, and Tim loves him even more for it. “Mm, I don’t recall.”

 “Well, then. I love you. Even with the morning breath.”

 “How romantic.”

 Tim smirks and moves his hand to the back of Jon’s head, threading his fingers in the soft curls of Jon’s hair. “Flatterer.”

 Then, he leans in and presses another kiss to Jon’s lips, this one firm and wanting. Jon folds beneath him, his arms winding around the small of Tim’s back and pulling him closer as he sighs against Tim’s mouth. Tim tilts his head, deepens the kiss, backs Jon up against the counter and captures Jon’s startled exhalation with his mouth, filing it away to treasure forever. Then, because Jon’s practically made of twigs, Tim places his hands on the back of Jon’s thighs and lifts him effortlessly onto the counter, smiling as Jon lets out a startled noise against his mouth.

 “Tim,” Jon says, the word breathless and amused even as it’s swallowed by another burning, bruising kiss, transformed into a hum of pleasure. Tim lets Jon’s legs bracket his hips, steps in closer, and slips one hand down to rest against the side of Jon’s neck, feeling the soft flutter of Jon’s pulse against the pads of his fingers. For an indeterminate amount of time, there’s only this: Jon’s mouth warm against his and Jon’s hands firm against his back and Jon’s quiet little noises, sighs and hums and gasps that Tim sequesters away in his mind for safekeeping.

 Finally, if only because he’s growing winded, Tim pulls back, rests his forehead against Jon’s, and says, “Romantic enough for you?”

 Jon lets out a noise that sounds like a breathless laugh but could just as easily be a groan. “You’re ridiculous.”

 “Ridiculously handsome.”

 This time, Jon does groan, pulling back enough to give Tim a dry look. “Fishing for compliments this morning, I see.”

 “What can I say? I’m a simple man. I see my beautiful boyfriend in my clothes, complaining about a lack of milk, and I’m immediately robbed of all higher brain functions.”

 Jon flushes, a lovely splash of dark across the sepia brown of his skin. “I don’t see how the milk factors into things.”

 “Oh, the milk is a critical component.”

 Jon makes a face, and Tim laughs before pressing another quick kiss to Jon’s lips. “Speaking of milk—want to get ready? I can run to the shop down the street, grab some before we make the full grocery run this afternoon.”

 “Oh,” Jon says, surprised. “You really don’t have to. I- I’ll be fine without tea for one morning.”

 “I know,” Tim says, brushing a strand of hair from Jon’s cheek and tucking it behind his ear. “But I want to.”

 Jon opens his mouth, closes it. Finally, with a small smile creeping across his lips, he says, “All right. But only so we can finally put this- this milk conversation to rest.”

 “For now. Just wait until the next time we run out of milk. I’ve got at least ten dairy puns ready for that specific moment.”

 “Goodbye, Tim.”