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Sundays are for sleeping in.
Even’s always liked sleeping in, even if not as religiously and as much as Isak does, but now that he has the option of being in bed with Isak, Monday through Saturday and their alarms and getting up are just brutal. So Sundays are their sleeping in days, with a maximum of one (1) monthly exception to go to brunch if Eskild or Even’s parents really insist. Not before ten though. Usually not before eleven. Sometimes it technically happens after noon, because Eskild can party like the world is ending. They call it brunch anyway.
But Sundays are for waking up only when their bodies (usually their bladders) tell them to and then sometimes crawling back into bed anyway and dozing for another hour. On this particular Sunday, Even’s been awake for… a bit. He’s not sure. He’s still in that half-dozy state where thoughts feel fast but then when you check the time you find that actually, half an hour has passed and you’re not sure if it’s because you just constructed a very involved fantasy, or just because you were thinking slowly. Either way, it’s nice. Not having to rush to do anything.
When Isak stirs next to him, Even’s thoughts dissolve like candy floss on his tongue, and he turns over to watch Isak’s eyes flutter open.
“Morning,” Isak mumbles, voice scratchy and sleep-thick, but a smile already pulling at his lips.
“Morning,” Even mumbles back, his own voice hardly any better off watching Isak’s smile bloom into something more steady.
“You been awake long?” Isak asks, hand creeping out from under the duvet to brush Even’s hair back from his face, card through the strands by his ear a few times.
“Not long,” Even says. It doesn’t feel like long, at least.
Isak’s fingers draw along the line of Even’s jaw as he pulls his hand back, his thumb catching on Even’s bottom lip as he brushes it over Even’s mouth.
Even shuffles forward on the mattress a bit and leans in to meet Isak in a kiss. Their lips smack together two, three times, unhurried and a bit sticky with half-dried spit, before Even pulls back again and settles his head on Isak’s pillow.
Isak laughs and shuffles back a bit.
“You’re too close to look at,” he says.
“Oh, you want to look at me?” Even teases.
Isak hums and brings his hand back up to draw a line from Even’s hairline down over his nose, lips, to the point of his chin.
“Got nothing better to do,” he says with a grin.
Even laughs and grabs Isak’s hand to kiss the tip of his finger. There’s never anything better to do on a Sunday morning, that’s the beauty of them.
The End