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The warm sun filtering in through the blinds was Oikawa’s favourite part of the morning. Other than Iwaizumi, of course. His eyes blinked open and he stretched languidly, feeling the heat of the man next to him.
Both him and Iwaizumi ran naturally hot, so snuggling close quarters in bed was never a good idea unless they wanted to wake up at five A.M. in a nightmare tangle of sweat. But every morning without fail, Oikawa would feel Iwaizumi’s hands on his. Or their calves intertwined, Iwaizumi’s coarse hair itching his legs. Or even just the solid presence of an arm laying across his chest as his face nestled into the pillow. This morning it was their asses pushed against each other—not particularly romantic, but this many years of closeness made it all feel just as intimate. Oikawa rolled around to face Iwaizumi.
His eyes fluttered open too, and, groaning at the lovesick look on Oikawa’s face, he closed them again. “Stop.” Groggy, he scratched at his face. “That doesn’t get any less creepy the hundredth time.”
“Why is that I’m creepy when I look at you, but when you do it’s not weird at all?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Iwaizumi grumbled. He cleared his throat. “I don’t stare at you. Especially not when you’re sleeping.”
“The only time you don’t look like you’re going to kill me is when you’re asleep,” said Oikawa. “How can I pass up the opportunity to stare at a beauty like that?”
Iwaizumi heaved an exasperated sigh, finally opening his eyes. He looked at Oikawa with a certain softness in his eyes in the mornings. A softness the flavour of peach iced tea and strawberry butter. At night would come a tenderness that felt like hot chocolate and baked goods, but mornings—mornings were for peach iced tea.
“Mm.” He pulled Oikawa close, snuggling into his chest. Another soft little thing about him that was reserved for mornings. “Shut up or I’ll get out of bed.”
Oikawa smiled and pressed his cheek into Iwaizumi’s hair. “My lips are sealed.” He kissed his forehead. Despite an irritated scrunch of the nose, Iwaizumi leaned into the touch. They didn’t spend long like that before Oikawa began dozing off again, snapped awake only by his boyfriend sliding out of the covers. He pouted.
“Breakfast, Iwa-chan?”
“It’s fine, I’ll make my own.”
“I want to make breakfast today.” The godforsaken whining was back.
“Hmm. Maybe.” Iwaizumi pulled on a shirt and began trudging across the room. “Eggs?”
“Scrambled?”
Iwaizumi made a vague, noncommittal sound in response.
“Or fried?”
A grunt, this time.
“Pick one.”
“I don’t care,” echoed Iwaizumi’s disembodied voice from the bathroom.
“You get a boiled egg.”
This time, his head emerged from behind the door frame. “No. Wait. No.” His words were muffled around a toothbrush in his mouth. “I don’t want a boiled egg.”
Oikawa sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then make a decision.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Iwaizumi responded, “Okay. Fried is good.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Iwaizumi stared at him deadpan and retreated back into the bathroom. “Shut up.”
“I love you.”
There was silence. Oikawa waited patiently. A minute later, as expected, “...I love you too.”
The morning passed pleasantly, the scent of breakfast wafting through the kitchen. While Iwaizumi preferred to brush his teeth before eating, Oikawa brushed his afterwards. So there was an unspoken rule of no kissing until after breakfast, and then it was a free-for-all depending on the day’s plans. This, in particular, was a listless Saturday and neither of them had shit to do. Therefore: kisses.
Oikawa, on principle, kissed the same way he loved; all too much at once. Iwaizumi was different, wasn’t sloppy or desperate. He was controlled and gentle, yet impossibly firm. He didn’t just remind Oikawa of his presence—he broke down Oikawa’s front door and made a home in his gut. Oikawa couldn’t shake the feeling that holding Iwaizumi felt a little like coming home.
“I want a cat,” Oikawa mumbled while throwing a few stray kisses to the corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth.
“What.”
“We should get a cat.”
“Mmm, no.”
Oikawa’s hand found the nape of Iwaizumi’s neck and curled there. “But we have the time these days.” He opened his mouth slightly into Iwaizumi’s, and added, almost incoherent, “And the space.”
“I guess.” Iwaizumi shifted so he was straddling his boyfriend, and broke away from the kissing.
“What would you name it?”
Iwaizumi shrugged. “What would you?”
“Yoghurt,” Oikawa replied.
Iwaizumi laughed. “What?”
“Yoghurt!”
“That’s kind of cute.”
“Or… Cheese.”
“Cheap laughs,” Iwaizumi teased. “It was only funny the first time.” He leaned down and started kissing Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa could feel him smiling into the sensitive skin.
“Of course, of course,” came the muffled response. Oikawa cupped Iwaizumi’s chin with his free hand and pulled him up to face level, kissing him hard. The afternoon trickled lazily through their tangled fingers and fell into the evening sky.
By the time their stomachs were grumbling for dinner, Iwaizumi was reading a book. He was sprawled across the couch with Oikawa sitting perpendicular, legs crisscrossing.
“What about a hedgehog?”
Iwaizumi didn’t respond for a moment, trying to make sense of the random outburst. “As a pet?”
“Yes.”
“Where would you get one here?”
“I’m sure we could find someone.”
Iwaizumi dog-eared a page and put his book aside, leaning over to see Oikawa’s laptop. “‘A Complete Guide To Raising Pet Hedgehogs’. Very nice.”
“You could say I do my research.”
“Could I?” Iwaizumi teases. “You still don’t know where to get one, though. Dinner?”
Oikawa pouted. “That won’t distract me. I want a hedgehog.”
“I can offer you pizza instead.”
“As a pet?!”
Iwaizumi stared at him pointedly. Affectionately.
“Fine, yes, pizza.”
Iwaizumi wrinkled his nose. “For the third night in a row?”
“You offered!”
“Yeah, to shut you up.”
“Will I ever?”
“I’m sure I can figure something out.”
Heating up, Oikawa cleared his throat. “Pizza. Pretty please.”
“...”
“With cherries on top?”
“Who puts cherries on pizza?”
“I hate you.”
“That’s not too convincing either.”
“We can get mushroom toppings.”
Iwaizumi considered. “I’m in.”
“…But you order.”
“Not a chance.”
“Sigh,” Oikawa said, which Iwaizumi always hated. Just sigh instead of saying the word, he would always argue.
Half an hour later, greasy fingers scrambled to tear away slices of pizza as the two ate in silence. A small mountain of mushrooms piled up in the corner of Oikawa’s plate from which Iwaizumi would reach over and pop some in his mouth every few minutes.
“How do you make pizza at home again?” Oikawa asked with a mouth stuffed full of cheese and pepperoni.
“Uh.” Iwaizumi’s mouth was just as, if not more, stuffed. “Dough, sauce, cheese, toppings, oven.”
Oikawa frowned. “What about the toppings?”
“…What about them?”
“Like. The pepperoni and the mushrooms and whatnot.” He gestured vaguely to the three slices left in front of them.
“Yes.”
“How do you get those?”
“I’m really confused right now.”
Oikawa shook his head. “Like, how do you make those?”
“How do you… make… mushrooms?” Iwaizumi snickered. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Wait…” Bright red burned across Oikawa’s face as he realised. “I— no, no, I’m— you— we’re not talking about this again.”
“You mean you’re not talking about this again,” Iwaizumi laughed through puffy cheeks and continued chewing. “I’m going to take a page from your book and never shut up about it.”
Oikawa shoved a hand into his face in embarrassment, smearing tacky pizza oil all over his forehead. “Fuck. Shit.”
His boyfriend took the opportunity to grab another slice as he mopped his face with an already greasy paper napkin. “Yo, Tooru,” Iwaizumi said.
Oikawa looked up at him. Iwaizumi was silent for a moment, staring at his boyfriend as he blinked silently.
Iwaizumi sucked in a breath. “We should get married.”
A moment passed. Neither of them spoke a word.
Iwaizumi held a breath.
And then, cautiously, “...Do I get a hedgehog if I say yes?” said Oikawa.
Iwaizumi smiled and continued wolfing down his dinner. “If you play your cards right with the vows, we’ll see.” Ah. There was that nighttime tenderness in his eyes, Oikawa noted. The one that tasted like hot chocolate and smelled like a fresh bakery. It tied his stomach into knots.
“Hmm, much to think about, then.”
“Do you want the last slice?”
“All yours. I’m gonna go wash my hands.” He angled his gaze up at his forehead. “And my face.”
“Sexy.”
“As is everything I do,” Oikawa said with a dramatic bow. He left the room and Iwaizumi carried the dirty dishes to the sink.
It was past eleven when he joined Oikawa in bed. Sliding in beside him, he saw the light of the phone illuminate Oikawa’s face at an odd angle.
“Sleepy?” he asked a while later, putting down his phone.
Iwaizumi answered, “Not really.”
“Gonna finish the book before you sleep?”
“Mhm.”
Oikawa yawned, plugging his phone into the charger and leaving it next to his pillow. He drew closer to Iwaizumi and put his head on his shoulder. “This isn’t uncomfortable, is it?”
Iwaizumi shifted a bit, adjusting his arm. “Not that you’d move if I said it was,” he smiled.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi flipped to the next page.
“Stop staring.”
“I’m not.” Oikawa yawned again. “Sleepy.”
“Then sleep.”
“Yessir.”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Yessir.”
Iwaizumi planted a kiss on Oikawa’s mussed hair. “Goodnight.”
“Mmm. Night.”
Oikawa closed his eyes. His cheek rubbed against the top of Iwaizumi’s chest and he nuzzled into him, brain already fogging over. Drifting off, Oikawa instinctively pressed into his boyfriend— no, God, his fiancé. Husband, eventually? The reminder almost shocked him awake. But not quite; before long he was contentedly floating into a comfortable, dreamless sleep again. He would once more have the privilege of waking up to Iwaizumi Hajime. His touch, his voice, his exasperated sighs.
He would once more open his eyes to the sight of his bedroom washed in golden morning light. Because after all, the sun was Oikawa’s favourite part of the morning. After Iwaizumi, of course. His Iwaizumi and the soft look in his eyes that Oikawa tasted on his tongue like peach iced tea and strawberry butter. Mornings were for peach iced tea.