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Yuutarou wasn't used to this. Well, waking up to Akira he was definitely used to. Waking up with him at his back? It was definitely weird.
Honestly, he would've preferred to hold rather than be held, like this all he could do was run a hand down Akira’s forearm where it hooked lazily around him. He couldn't dance his fingers over Akira's bare chest, place kisses to the back of his neck for him to shy away from, whisper sweet 'I love you'’s into his ear or even smell his hair.
On the plus side, it only took him to pry that arm off him to be able to move. No dead arm to slowly remove from underneath him, no backwards kicks to his shins.
The incoherent mumbling started up when he swung his legs around to stand, when the twang of a worn bedspring from their many nights together broke the comfortable morning silence.
“...t'rou” Akira said, arm stretching to splay his fingers out. He was a lot like a lazy cat, the way his fingertips curled back into bedsheets when he couldn't reach him.
“'m right here, Akira.” Yuutarou whispered, leaning over to watch Akira blink his tired eyes open. A rare grin bloomed instantly on his face just barely visible from the covers wrapped so tightly around him.
“M'rning” Akira mumbled, eyeing Yuutarou's bedhead.
It was typical for someone to be proud that they were the only one to see their partner in a state of undress, or see a side of their partner no-one else knew about. For Akira, he was (not so) proud that he could see this; Yuutarou's completely ridiculous bedhead.
It was on old joke by now, so he didn't mention it, but by the way Yuutarou unconsciously ran a hand through said bedhead he already knew what he was thinking about.
“Coffee?” Yuutarou asked, getting up to oblige before he even said 'yes please’. Akira was sluggish, but he would not let Yuutarou get away from him so early in the morning. So he dived over and grabbed Yuutarou's arm before he stood up fully.
“No, you.” Akira said as Yuutarou turned back around to the bed to stop his arm from being pulled off.
Akira said that occasionally on a morning where the comfortable heat gave him a pink dusting over his cheeks and nose, where the hum of the mid morning lulled him to a state of calm Yuutarou deemed soporific even for him. He wanted Yuutarou to stay with him a while longer, to kiss him softly even with morning breath, run fingers through his hair and over his arm and smile at his unsatisfied pout.
Yuutarou barely resisted, tugging his arm away for only a moment before kneeling back onto the bed, hovering over Akira's face for a few moments. They could stare at each other for minutes like that, have whole conversations with each other before making even a sound. Not this morning. This morning, Akira raised an arm to sink into silky hair and guide down for a kiss.
Where Akira wanted him to kiss was obvious, his lips even pursed unconsciously as he waited for it. Instead, Yuutarou had his own plans, redirecting to the tip of his nose. The irritated groan and the subsequent push away was enough to make Yuutarou chuckle.
“You're the worst.” Akira huffed, hand curling in Yuutarou's shirt while his other pushed himself to sit up. “Yes I'll have coffee.”
Yuutarou grinned, own hand covering Akira's to ghost his thumb over knuckles before pulling away. “Of course.”
“And then come back to bed.”
“Sure thing, Akira.” Yuutarou said, waving him off as he padded from the room. Akira unashamedly eyed his long, athletic legs as he did, and held the image of them in his mind long after he left.
Shifting back to sit against the headboard, Akira listened to the enthusiastic humming of the opposite species - a morning person. He tipped his head back and shut his eyes to focus on it, the occasional clang of ceramic and thump of cupboard doors. Yuutarou couldn't surprise him with breakfast in bed if he tried.
If he hummed loud enough, perhaps Akira wouldn't notice, Yuutarou thought as he turned the fish over on the grill and moved to spoon rice into a bowl. There was no time to cook everything from scratch so Yuutarou had also raided the fridge for leftover miso soup to heat up. The drink was an afterthought, once he plated up the food and realised that the entire reason he was in there in the first place was to make coffee.
The tray was heavy, and he distantly realised forgot to season everything, but he forgot everything as he entered the bedroom with rattling of ceramic and looked up.
Akira had his hand over his face and his shoulders were shaking. Yuutarou knew from the crinkles around Akira's eyes he was laughing. He wasn't stupid, not anymore, and he knew he was laughing at him. It served only to make him nervous, shoulders hiking up and face taking on a pink colouration.
Maybe Akira should've felt bad. By the way Yuutarou hunched over and slunk to him with a hard line to his jaw, Akira could tell he had made him embarrassed. He took the tray from him when offered though, and looked up with a smile he knew would wipe away all of Yuutarou's unease.
“What would I ever do without you?” Akira asked softly as Yuutarou slipped back under the sheets next to him.
“Have a decently seasoned breakfast, for one.” Yuutarou joked, eyeing the tray of bland-looking food.
Akira disagreed with that. “Would you call heavily sugared cereal 'decently seasoned’?” He deadpanned, searching for the chopsticks.
“Shit.” Yuutarou mumbled and dashed back out.
The spring made a horrible grinding sound as Yuutarou got back in with him for the second time but neither of them paid it any mind, focus only on each other.