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Whenever you finally scratch the surface of consciousness, the first time, it’s because there’s something in your hair. It’s only gentle tugs, nothing painful at all. In fact, it’s actually quite soothing. That feels nice, you try to say, but your tongue has not yet woken up, so all that happens is an unintelligible mumble and the ghost of a smile. You doze off again.
The next time you wake up, you have no idea how long it has been, but now whatever was in your hair is on your face. Usually you would be uncomfortable and alarmed, attempting to bat off your attacker, but you are still so warm and so, so sleepy. What you have loosely determined to be feathers are soft against your skin, stroking your cheek. One of them passes over your lips but leaves quickly, like it was an accident, and you start to wonder if maybe they aren’t feathers, but fingers instead.
You are definitely awake now, or at least as awake as you can and will be for quite a while. You still aren’t totally sure what’s touching you, but if you had to guess now you would settle on a hand. Whose hand, you aren’t quite certain of either, so you try to force your eyes to open. Before that happens though you’re struck with a gigantic yawn, one so big you can feel your jaw pop and the chapped skin on your lips pull painfully. You give them a quick lick as you wipe the sleep-tears from your eyes, but to no avail- your tongue is dry too. God, you hope you didn’t sleep with your mouth open and drool all over the place during the night, that would be disgusting, and surely Dave would never want to share a bed with you again-
Oh, right. Dave. Your eyes finally open and he is all you see, hazy through the film over your eyes and your eyelashes still stuck together. Well, you know it’s him because of your subconscious, but for now all you can make out is a little bit of sun highlighting the blondeness of his hair, casting shadows over his face, his intense red eyes fixed on you from not that far away. You blink several times to try to get yours to focus on his, but the warmth between you two and your entire comfort in general keeps making your lids heavy. Your happy, drowsy mood is worth fighting off the sleep that threatens to take you over yet again, especially when Dave comes somewhat into focus for you.
Something moving in the corner of your eye almost distracts you from looking at him, but it’s just his hand, still stroking your cheek. He knows you’re awake now; you’re wiggling in place, trying to get closer to his warm body, and also staring right at him with a stupid sleepy smile. You don’t even feel yourself moving until your skin gets hotter where it touches Dave’s, through the many layers of clothing you both are wearing. The same ones what you wish were gone so you could actually feel him, see him. “Morning,” you say, except that’s not what you say at all. It’s more of a little moan than anything else, and your cheeks warm up just that much.
Dave doesn’t even react to the sound, besides echoing his greeting, in a much clearer voice. Except, oh, his is deep and raspy, and you really like the way that sounds, and now you have a reason for the flush on your face. You close your eyes again because now you feel safe, the morning sunlight casting a protective barrier across yourself and the boy in your arms. The entire thing feels cozy, especially when Dave leans forward to bump noses, in a way that makes you instinctively nuzzle his although you’ve never done this before. For a second you think your lips are going to touch; the mood feels right, you are already sleepy and content, and his mouth is right there. He even hums lowly, too, and his voice is already nice enough but then he does that and he’s inches away from you, and it kind of makes your sleepy self want to jump him and steal that noise for your own. You don’t, but you do mock it, with a sleepy, scratchy voice. Your throat is dry and raw, and the sound isn’t anything as nice as you were hoping for. Sleepy John noises? Go for it. Dying, wheezy John noises? Not so much.
But before you can try anything he’s pulling away from you. Where is he going, why is he leaving you? Your eyes flick open to find out, but you just see his chin right before he kisses you, right between the eyebrows. You suppose that’s a decent enough apology for abandoning you, but you still want more. You don’t get it, though, since he stretches his back and lays a hand on your head. His fingers are warm and heavy but he is entirely too far away from you now. “'M making breakfast,” he informs you as he tries to get out of your arms.
Oh, no he doesn’t! You tighten your grip, because you just woke up and it wasn’t fair that he got to cuddle with you for the whole night and then some, but as soon as you wake up he’s off to prance around in the kitchen making food for you. Your tummy growls and you think about letting up, but god damn it he is warm and you are sleepy and it’s not fair! I don’t want stupid breakfast, all I want is you here, you’re better than breakfast anyway. ”Don’t want it, want you here.”
Dave’s voice is an amused whisper when he replies, laying a gentle hand on your arm. “Come on dude, breakfast.” He’s talking like the promise of food is supposed to convince you, which it might, but how could you be convinced of anything if it meant letting this boy go? Dave just waits patiently for you to release him, and it makes you feel so guilty you just have to give in.
Your arms unhook from his torso and you purposefully let your fingers drag across his side and stomach as your arm falls back to your side. Dave almost flinches- geez, he really is super ticklish- but you still get the chance to revel in the firm muscle you had felt beneath his shirt. Your hold on him has been relinquished for now, but not without a childish whine that you stuff into his pillow. You turn onto your stomach, half tired and half throwing a fit. You take a deep breath to calm down, but the pillow that is currently trying to suffocate you (and doing an almost-decent job) smells just like Dave and you can’t help the groan you let out.
Fortunately you can play it off as an agitated sound, even flopping your arms a little, but you keep your face there to hide the new color to it. The bed doesn’t move behind you, so you figure Dave is either already off of it or sitting still and probably watching you. Your suspicions are confirmed when he lets out a confused, concerned little “What?” that makes your skin tingle.
“I only just want to lay with you.” It’s muttered straight into the pillow, and it’s so quiet and muffled that you couldn’t even understand yourself. You curl up onto your side and stare Dave down from where he’s sitting up, further down the bed than where your own head is. “If you get up then I gotta too. I don’t want to yet.” Dave just rolls his eyes at you, how rude, and smiles, how cute. He even leans forward to kiss your face again, and damn if that doesn’t give you a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your tummy. You can’t help but smile again.
“Nah, you can stay here. Breakfast will take a while anyways.” You find it really sweet that he’s letting you stay here in his cozy bed, even if he insists on leaving you in it. “Blanket?” It won’t be anything compared to another body beside your own, but you nod with a pout that makes you feel like the desperate victim of a one-night-stand. Except you know you and Dave didn’t do anything last night, and you know he isn’t going to ever actually abandon you.
He ruffles your hair one last time, rolls off the bed, and drags the blanket over you. As he leaves, you bunch it up beside you and curl around it, breathing in the scent bled into it and wondering how the simple task of running errands had turned into something so beautiful.