The light of day sneaks dimly through the blinds in the bedroom, sending tired yellow beams across the room and the bed, and making the motes of dust in the air whirl slowly like exhausted dervishes. Matt isn't in the bed, though the rumple of thrown-back blankets show where he had been sleeping next to Bernie. As consciousness creeps in, so do sounds and smells: the sizzle of something in a pan, the aroma of eggs, bacon and maple syrup.

The first thing to start Bernie waking is the sense of a certain lack of warmth beside her, when she shifts, followed by the cooking breakfast's gentle assault of her senses. Her eyes flicker open, brow slightly furrowed with confusion as she finishes the waking process, and sits up, the covers falling to her lap.

More sounds of cooking come from the kitchen: the thump of something on the counter, the scrape of a pan over the stove eye. More smells as well: toast, and cigarette smoke. The stove fan is running quietly, but over it, she may be able to hear humming.

A half-stifled yawn, a stretch, and Bernie pushes the covers back, slipping over the side of the bed and onto her feet, padding quietly out of the room and toward the kitchen.

Matt is in the kitchen, wearing a pair of SCCU sweatpants and his 'Kiss the Cook' apron. There are a couple of plates on the counter, and every eye on the stove is occupied by a pan. Scrambled eggs, on low heat to keep them warm, slices of bacon (still sizzling), and french toast, cooking in a skillet. Matt seems to be concentrating on this, and keeping the ashes of his cigarette out of the food. Over the noise of the stove fan, it doesn't appear that he's noticed her stealthy approach.

Bernie manages -- barely -- to prevent a giggle, and continues silently toward the Fianna, merely grinning widely. When she gets close enough, she slides her arms quickly around his waist from behind, and squeezes gently, softly announcing, "Boo," right beside his ear.

Matt is startled, all right, dropping the cigarette out of his mouth, and as he whirls to see who has done this (As if he couldn't guess), he steps on it. "Gercha! Oi--Ow! Fuck!" He glares, but without any real malice, pulling the foot up to rub it. "Books..."

Bernie claps her hands over her mouth and tries -- but utterly fails -- not to laugh, head tipping back with amusement. "...ahem," she starts, clearing her throat in a futile attempt to keep the laughter out of her voice, "...G'mornin', sunshine. Y'a'ight?"

Matt glances at the stove, then turns to it, flipping the french toast onto a plate, followed by a spatula of eggs and a few slices of bacon. "Oi was," he says, "Makin' you some breakfast. Not sure, now, though." He glares, a twinkle in his bleary eyes. "May joost wanta trash this rather than waste it on a mean-spirited, urrah no-moon, whot burns me plates."

Bernie actually manages a cute pout, briefly. "Hey! I'm not mean-spirited..." She grins again, and steps back in, slipping her arms back around his waist, though more slowly this time. Wouldn't want to startle him again... yet. She plants a little kiss on the back of his neck, and apologetically adds, "..I di'n' mean for you t' get hurt."

Matt smiles. "Oh, Oi know, Books. Joost startled me, that's all. Have some breakfast, before the toast gets cold."

"...what, not in bed? Alas. I could get back in bed..." Bernie gives him another light squeeze, leaning up against his back, and then lets go, stepping around him to find the toast. "...damn, that looks good. So it's all for me, right?" she teases.

Matt raises an eyebrow. "Aye, in bed. An' this plate is. Yours. Mine's still cookin'." He leans up to drop a couple slices of bacon in the pan, where they immediately start to hiss.

Bernie oohs and gather the food together, almost burning her fingertips on the bacon. Once it's done, though, she waits, leaning against the counter and watching Matt cook while she nibbles on various bits of the breakfast.

Matt makes his own french toast with some efficiency, pausing to drop the extinguished cigarette in the trashcan under the counter. "Right. Done. So, lead they way, Spoils-the-Moment." He grins.

Bernie looks properly chastened for a moment or so before she giggles and pushes up, picking up her plate. "Promise t' do better next time," she assures him, heading back across the apartment as directed. "...though I'm not completely sure it wasn' worth it..." With that comment, she increases her speed a little.

Matt picks up his own plate and chases after. "Oi'll show you 'better next time...' Gercha!" He gives her bum a pinch through her sweats.

Bernie squeaks and scurries more quickly on her way, giggling. "But practise makes perfick an' all'at!" She balances the plate as carefully as she can as she half-jumps into the bed, but still drops a slice of bacon, which she quickly picks back up from the sheet. Oops. Sweats-clad legs dig down under the blankets, and she moves the pillows a bit to lean back against the wall.

Matt sits cross-legged on the bed, plate in his lap. "Oi doan't know if Oi want you to get any better at sneakin' up on me than ye 'ave already," he chuckles.

"But it could come in handy someday!" the Ragabash replies, gesturing with the bacon strip, "Like... mmm... hm. 's good practise for sneakin' up on =other= people?" She grins again, and relaxes back happily, starting in on the meal.

Matt rolls his eyes. "Roight. Next time we need ta attack th' Wyrm when it's 'alf naked makin' breakfast, Oi'll call you." He stabs a fork into his eggs, and scoops up a mouthful.

Bernie snickers, and swallows her mouthful before replying, "Hey, well, y'never know..." She eyes him a moment and adds, "...an' I dunno y'count as half-naked... I mean, you got that apron on, 's 'bout th' same deal as a halter-top, innit? Nahhh, tha's not half-naked..."

Matt smirks. "Well, Oi may as well be." He pulls off the apron and tosses it at the end of the bed. "Oi've got ta work, and Oi can't joost wander in anymore. So eat, then we can shower an' Oi'll get ready."

Bernie gives Matt an appraising look, and nods. "There, yeah, tha's more like it. Properly half-naked, now." The food disappears fairly quickly, and she sets the empty plate carefully aside, sitting up straighter and cross-legged as well. "Mm. I think I oughta not ever cook, an' just let you do it. 'spect we'd get better meals, that way."

Matt smiles, eating. "Oh aye. But Oi could teach you. S'not that 'ard."

Bernie turns and stretches out across the bed, on her side, just in front of him. "Mmm, yeah? An' I got mosta th' basics, I guess... just useta cookin' more for quan'ity than quality, I guess. Better'n mosta my siblings, but tha's honestly not sayin' much..." For a moment, she looks almost homesick, "...sometime, I gotta go back an' say hi an' all..."

Matt ponders, finishing up his breakfast. "Let me get some shifts covered," he decides. "How does a fortnight from now sound?" He looks up at her from underneath his wilted bangs.

Bernie blinks, startled, and then smiles a little, hopefully. "...really? Pretty sure I di'n' have anythin' on my hectic social calendar jus' then..."

Matt shrugs, smiling. "Sure. I'll 'ave time ta get someone ta cover for me, an' Oi can pick up some extra shifts ta 'elp pay for th trip."

If there weren't still a plate of food in Matt's lap, Bernie would probably pounce on him. As it is, though, she curls around and wraps her arms about his waist again, squeezing really quite tightly. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she exclaims joyfully, before loosening her grip a little. No need for the Heimlich Maneuver.

Matt acks, grinning. "awright, awright!" he laughs. "Yer welcome. One condition though. We're stoppin' in San Francisco, awright? Oi've always wanted ta visit the Golden Gate Bridge."

Bernie nods fairly vigorously, sitting up without letting go, and giving him a kiss. "'s fine with me. I was mostly asleep when I passed through there, so hey, I wanna see it too..."

Matt kisses back, happily. Then, witha resigned expression, he shoos her off the bed. "Okay, gercha. Oi need ta shower, then got to work. Go on, then. Oi've not much time, if Oi'm goin' ta clean up after breakfast, too."

Bernie, shooed, picks up her plate, and leans back across the bed to steal another quick kiss. "I'll clean it up. =That= I'm just as good at 's you are. An' I don't hafta be anywhere right 'way, either."

Matt smiles appreciatively at that. "Fanks, Books. Sorry Oi'm a messy cook." He clambers off of the bed and slips into the bathroom. Shortly thereafter, water runs and steam roils out of the top of the door.

Bernie eyes the dishes, and decides they can wait just a little longer, releasing a slightly larger puff of steam as she opens the bathroom door and follows him inside.