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Iwaizumi wakes to a familiar warmth against his chest; he wraps his arms around Akaashi and pulls him closer, grateful for his internal alarm clock, which grants him this stolen pre-dawn moment.
Their room is still dark, so it must be too early for Iwaizumi to be awake, especially on a weekend. With a sigh, Iwaizumi presses his chin to the top of Akaashi's head, letting the sound of his snoring lull him halfway back to sleep. The tickle of Akaashi's hair on his chin keeps Iwaizumi lucid, though, so he brushes it back from Akaashi's forehead. It defiantly springs right back into place as soon as Iwaizumi pulls his hand away, and he has to repress a chuckle.
As much as he wants to tease Akaashi, Iwaizumi can't bear to wake him just yet. He keeps himself quiet by burying his nose into the unruly, still slightly damp waves, breathing in the scent of their shampoo.
Shifting slightly to free his arm a little, Iwaizumi smirks at how Akaashi only moves to reconform himself to his body. So much for reviving his dead arm. Akaashi's latched onto Iwaizumi under his t-shirt, using his hold as leverage to nuzzle even closer. But Iwaizumi doesn't mind the numbness or the heat, not when the view is this perfect.
Akaashi reserves all of his vulnerability for sleep; his cheek is smushed unceremoniously against Iwaizumi's chest and his mouth hangs open, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth and threatening to spill over with each gentle snore.
And as the first rays of dawn creep in through the blinds, Iwaizumi can finally make out Akaashi's downright absurd bedhead. It curls and falls in a way that hardly makes any sense, all dramatic angles and a thousand cowlicks.
Iwaizumi credits its chaos to some abnormality in hair physics. Medusa, he likes to call Akaashi. Especially the mornings where it takes more than a few tries to leave their bed, thanks to Akaashi's penchant for turning him to stone.
"It's because you come to bed with it still wet," Iwaizumi tells him, not for the first time.
"Are you complaining that I'm excited to sleep with you?" Akaashi quips, the ends dripping onto Iwaizumi's skin from where Akaashi hovers over him, making chills run down Iwaizumi's spine.
Iwaizumi can never think of a reply to that, because Akaashi's too good to be real, much less excited about falling asleep in Iwaizumi's arms, close enough that the last thing Iwaizumi sees before he falls back asleep is a smattering of freckles lit by a pink-gold sunrise.