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[ #sakuatsu] a perfect morning 
“What has ya in such a good mood, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu sighs sleepily, hooking his chin over Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
Kiyoomi adjusts his grip around his coffee mug, letting the heat seep into his fingers.
“What has ya in such a good mood, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu sighs sleepily, hooking his chin over Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
Kiyoomi adjusts his grip around his coffee mug, letting the heat seep into his fingers.
The glare on the window makes Atsumu face in the reflection indecipherable, but Kiyoomi knows it by heart anyway.
There’s no particular reason for his good mood, rather a combination of factors.
There’s no particular reason for his good mood, rather a combination of factors.
The sun is out this morning, he added just the right amount of creamer to his coffee, and Atsumu had slept curled around him in such a way that Kiyoomi woke up warm and comfortable.
Warm, comfortable, loved. A perfectly reasonable explanation for the way he was smiling at nothing when Atsumu finally crawled out of bed.
Neither of them like to rise early on their off days, but Kiyoomi can only sleep so long without raiding the kitchen for calories.
Neither of them like to rise early on their off days, but Kiyoomi can only sleep so long without raiding the kitchen for calories.
“Mmmm,” he hums around the rim of his mug. “You.”
Kiyoomi revels in the way Atsumu’s breath hitches in his ear, somehow always surprised when Kiyoomi vocalizes his affection. This is partly Kiyoomi’s fault—he’s blunt but he often stumbles over these honest words of affection.
Kiyoomi revels in the way Atsumu’s breath hitches in his ear, somehow always surprised when Kiyoomi vocalizes his affection. This is partly Kiyoomi’s fault—he’s blunt but he often stumbles over these honest words of affection.
It’s a work in progress.
“Kiyoomiiiiii,” Atsumu whines, smothering his face into Kiyoomi’s shoulder blade.
“I love you,” Kiyoomi answers, because he does and because it’ll turn Atsumu into a puddle.
“Kiyoomiiiiii,” Atsumu whines, smothering his face into Kiyoomi’s shoulder blade.
“I love you,” Kiyoomi answers, because he does and because it’ll turn Atsumu into a puddle.
Sure enough, his boyfriend slumps against his back, squeezing just a breath shy of too tight. “Yer doing this on purpose,” he complains, lightly nipping at the fabric of Kiyoomi’s t-shirt. And then, “I love ya too.”
“Enough to make breakfast?” Kiyoomi asks hopefully.
“Enough to make breakfast?” Kiyoomi asks hopefully.
A soft chuckle ruffles the soft hairs at the base of his neck. “Yeah love, whatever ya want.”
Kiyoomi’s life isn’t perfect, but he gets so many mornings like this that it might as well be.
Kiyoomi’s life isn’t perfect, but he gets so many mornings like this that it might as well be.
He twists, pressing a kiss to Atsumu’s forehead and then his nose before finally capturing his mouth in a slow, languid kiss.
“Or we could go back to bed,” Atsumu mumbles, only to laugh as Kiyoomi’s stomach rumbles in protest. “Fine, breakfast first, and then back to bed.”
“Or we could go back to bed,” Atsumu mumbles, only to laugh as Kiyoomi’s stomach rumbles in protest. “Fine, breakfast first, and then back to bed.”
Kiyoomi kisses his temple, brushing his nose against ruffled blond hair. “Sounds perfect.”
And it was.
/end
And it was.
/end
