Work Text:
Yaku wakes with impossibly long arms wrapped around his chest with the matching set of legs tangled with his. There’s a nose pressed to his neck and he might be lying a puddle of drool. He’s hot and feels sticky with sweat, and it’s absolutely disgusting, but his mouth doesn’t seem to want to cooperate and insists on stretching into a smile.
He lies there for a few minutes, unmoving for fear of disturbing the uncomfortably warm feeling of fondness stretching in his chest, before finally giving in to his bladder’s insistence and getting up.
Lev whines a little in his sleep and Yaku pulls away, and he strokes his hair and kisses his forehead before padding over to the bathroom to relieve himself.
He’d really like to just return to the bed and crawl back in beside Lev, but he catches sight of the clock as he comes out of the bathroom. It’s already almost noon, and while neither of them has anywhere they need to be, the idea of going back to sleep now just seems like a waste of a good day, especially considering how rare it is for both of them to be able to take a day off from school and homework and volleyball and (in Yaku’s case) work.
So instead of curling back in his too-small bed with his too-big boyfriend, Yaku goes to the kitchen to make a very belated breakfast. Lev’s been very into western food lately, so Yaku goes straight to the refrigerator for the eggs and bacon before starting the coffee pot.
Halfway through cooking, he hears the tell-tale sound of Lev’s always too-loud footsteps as he comes up behind him.
"Morning," Lev says as he drapes himself over Yaku and nuzzles his neck.
"More like afternoon," Yaku corrects, shrugging to get Lev to loosen his grip so he can cook more comfortably.
Lev hums, steals a sip from the cup of coffee Yaku had poured for himself and then promptly forgotten about, and slides his other hand down Yaku’s boxers to sit large and warm on the bone of his hip. It’s casual and familiar, and they stand like that until the rest of the food is finished.
They’re already sitting at the table with plates in front of them when Lev says, “You forgot the toast again,” and ambles over to the toaster.
"Sorry," Yaku apologizes, "Bring me some coffee on your way back since you drank all mine."
Lev returns, toast and coffee in hand, and catches one of Yaku’s legs under the table with both of his after he sits. Yaku’s eyes drift up from his plate to Lev, who smiles at him.
When Yaku had decided to get an apartment for his second year of university, he’d been thinking of the convenience of having his own space, and when he’d thought about Lev coming over he’d thought of the ease of not having to worry about sexiling any roommates. He hadn’t really put thought into this, of lazy Sunday mornings in bed stretching into afternoons of late, quiet breakfasts.
He thinks he could get used to having more days like this.
"You’re thinking too hard," Lev says, breaking his train of thought. He reaches up to press a finger to the crease between Yaku’s eyebrows, keeps it there until Yaku relaxes and it’s gone. "You worry about too much."
"I wasn’t worrying," Yaku says automatically, even though this time it’s true. "I was just thinking."
"About what?"
Yaku thinks about the feel of Lev’s body against his whenever they’re pressed close, of Lev curled in his bed like he belongs there, of an extra key sitting in a drawer that he’ll take out later today, and smiles.
"Nothing pressing."