Chapter Text
Iwaizumi Hajime was a man of habit. From his job with all of its big everyday challenges that somehow had still turned into a comfortable life, to the route he took home, he liked his routines. And, just as always, Saturday was a “take out” day. He knew his husband would be exhausted and not in the mood to cook dinner, so he stopped to pick a few thing on his way home. The lights in the windows were on, but appeared dimmed and he unlocked the door as quietly as possible. Balancing the take out bag and his wallet, he somehow managed to take off his shoes without falling on his face. Thank God for small miracles. Inside of the small, but cozy, house the TV was glowing silently, the volume turned all the way down, and all the other lights were off. And, just as expected, Tooru was curled on the couch in his home clothes, the loose shirt and pants riding up and showing off his toned body. Hajime sighed. The idiot was overworking himself, not caring about his health and always trying to help whichever kids team asked for advice. He’d been like this ever since school, when spending his weekends with his nephew’s team had been a regular occurrence. Now older, and an official coach, he still went to help to every child with passion for the sport in their eyes.
Well, the food was going to have to last until tomorrow, at least, so he took out the plastic containers and put them in the fridge. Then, he poked Tooru lightly in the side. He might’ve been more muscular, but carrying someone taller than him through the narrow hallways was not his idea of fun.
- ‘re home, Hajime. – Tooru rubbed his eyes and squinted towards the clock hanging above the TV. – What’s the time ? Shit, I fell asleep…
- Shush. Come on, you’re going straight to bed. – He received a tired chuckle. – Not like that, you, idiot. You’re asleep on your feet. Let’s go. Otherwise you will sleep until too late tomorrow and I will have to listen to the whining about how much you need your beauty sleep. – That got him a mock glare, followed by a pout. It was cute, he had to admit it, but Tooru still was not going to their bedroom. – Don’t make me carry you. Because I totally will. – And now, a snort. Great. His husband was not taking him seriously. But he curled his lips in that pretty little smile that was just for Hajime and he felt his heart melt.
- I’m going, I’m going. No need to be grumpy… - Tooru waved and headed for the bedroom. – If you keep complaining, you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty. And then people will wonder how someone so old managed to catch a young and pretty guy like me. – Hajime growled and Tooru giggled.
Coming back from the bathroom, Hajime saw he had no reason to worry – Tooru was in his actual pajamas, already deeply asleep, soft quiet snores filling the warm silence of their home. He slid as carefully as possible under the covers and looked at his husband. The warm glow from the nightlight in the corner they always left on was painting his expressive face in gold and black, the shadows chasing his eyelashes as he dreamt. Having the privilege to see him like this, with his soft hair sticking everywhere and his rumpled checkered pajamas, was worth all the pretend mocking and banter they had shared for years before finally getting together in the end of their last year in high school. He might be the great Oikawa, with all his awards and the prestigious place in the national team he had left right after the team had reached third place in the world, deciding that coaching was more rewarding and retiring at the age of 25, but here and now he was Tooru, his childhood friend, with the shadows in his eyes that nobody saw, who pushed himself too hard and cared too much. This man, here and now, belonged to Hajime and nobody else.
He reached and petted the soft skin of Tooru’s cheek. He was a lucky man, indeed.
Oikawa Tooru woke up with the sun on his face. Which was wrong on too many levels. He knew their window looked to the east but he usually remembered to pull the drapes so the glowy ball in the sky did not interrupt his sleep at…He rubbed his eyes. Six in the morning. Wait. Six in the morning ? He glanced to the other side of the bed. Hajime was buried in the pillows and cover so deeply, only his spiky black hair peeked from under the pile. How hadn’t he drowned with his habit of sleeping on his stomach and diving into fabric and stuffing, Tooru did not know. At the beginning, Tooru would poke him until he moved and went back to sleeping like a normal person, but after years of living together, he knew that’s how Hajime was. It was just as much a part of him as his protective nature that made him such a good policeman, as his growling that was never serious, all the way to his blight green eyes. All of him. He was about to turn to the other side and ignore the rude star currently making his Sunday morning extremely unpleasant, but then he realized that for the first time since forever he was awake before Hajime. So, he could at least try to do something for him.
Tooru grimaced but got up, making sure to tuck his husband, so the cold would not wake him, and walked softly to the kitchen. Now, what did they have… He started the coffee and dug around their food pantry. He wanted to make it special so, Western style. Chopping vegetables and scrambling eggs was not his idea of a perfect morning but it was going to be worth it. He glanced at the clock again. Seven. Hajime was used to getting up before six, but when he had a day off, he never set an alarm and Tooru was not going to remind him about his “ habit”. Humming slightly while plating the eggs, toast, coffee and the pineapple juice he’d found in the fridge, he headed back to the bedroom. No matter what, Hajime would not let him forget it if he let him sleep too much. So he set the tray on the nightstand and opened the window to let some fresh air in.
- Ha-ji-meee ! Wake up, it’s almost ten ! – To say Hajime woke up would not be correct. He jumped straight up and looked wildly around. His eyes landed first on Tooru’s smirk, then on the full tray, and finally – on the radio clock that showed three minutes after seven. He blinked back at Tooru’s smug expression, once, twice ,and then, before he had a chance to react, Tooru was dragged down by the waist and thrown on his back on the rumpled bed. He couldn’t help it, he pouted. And, when he couldn’t hold the expression for more than a few seconds, he giggled. Hajime just narrowed his eyes. – Hajime, what…
He couldn’t say more as his lips were suddenly very, very busy. Sleep-warmed hands slid under his loose shirt and a knee rubbed between his legs. Later, he blamed it on the morning, but he was aroused in record time. Damn Hajime and his sleepy eyes, and his warm hands, and his wide muscular back and…ah, right there. He couldn’t help it, he moaned when he felt lips sliding down his neck. That hot mouth was on his ear a second later, teeth light nibbling on the lobe, while one hand was sliding up and down his chest and the other was dipping beneath the waistband of his pants.
The breakfast had gotten cold and Hajime couldn’t find it in him to be mad. It was almost ten in the morning and he and Tooru were browsing through the channels, not watching anything in particular, and enjoying the soft cloudy silence of the Sunday morning. Days like these were a treasure and Hajime knew he had to treat them like such. He smiled lightly and blew on Tooru’s hair. The other man just wriggled a little and settled back on the floor between Hajime’s knees, leaning back and glancing up with that pretty little smile that was just for him. Life was good, ideed.