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Atsumu liked fast paced mornings, the ones where he could barely grab a bite to eat before he had to clutch his gym bag to his chest as he sprinted to the bus stop. The adrenaline of running after the 8am bus was unmatched. However, he also liked mornings like this; the ones when he was awakened by sunlight spilling through his blinds, and birds yelling on his balcony. He could take all the time in the world to come around, and stay wrapped up in the comfy duvet. He rubbed his bleary eyes, and rolled over. His shirt was twisted but he didn't care to fix it.
He came face to face with his partner, whose dark, curly hair was pressed against his silk pillow, and his face was void of any discernible emotion. Atsumu smiled at his sleeping form; if Sakusa was awake, he probably would have rolled his eyes and demanded that he stopped staring. Atsumu untangled a hand from the sheets and brought it up to cup his husband's face. Sakusa's nose wrinkled but he remained asleep. He began slowly tracing a finger along his sharp jawline, and up his cheekbone. His skin was smooth and free from any blemishes, similar to alabaster. It reminded Atsumu of those Greek statues he once saw when Osamu dragged him along to a museum, so he could learn about art history to impress Suna. His smooth complexion was probably thanks to the ten step skincare routine that he insisted on completing every evening before bed, no matter how long the day had been. It was endearing to see the man with a pink Hello Kitty headband pushing back his fringe rubbing some sort of product onto his face, whilst glaring at Atsumu to get out of the bathroom and to go 'do something productive'. Atsumu let out a small puff of air at the memory. He carried on tracing a finger up his face and smoothed an eyebrow out with his thumb. He reached the two moles that were on his forehead.
Atsumu liked to entertain the idea that wherever your past lover had kissed you the most was where you had moles, and so constantly gave Sakusa forehead kisses. This was so he could easily find him again in their next lives.
He trailed down his lover's nose bridge, and his fingertip met a small scar. Not many people even knew it was even there, as Sakusa's masks covered it most of the time. It was faded, and hard to see in indirect light, but Atsumu could feel it when he dragged the pad of his finger over it. It was from when Sakusa was around 7, and had been pushed into a low brick wall by his cousin. Even statues had chips in them.
Sakusa's dark eyelashes began to flutter as he stirred. His face scrunched up as he opened an eye. He closed it again when the sun hit it.
'What are you doing?' Sakusa's voice was soft, and slightly slurred from sleep.
'Admirin' my husband. He's very pretty.' Sakusa grumbled in response, and peeled Atsumu's hand off his face.
'Do you think I'm pretty?' Atsumu asked, putting an arm around Sakusa's waist.
'You're okay. Better when you keep your mouth closed.' And with that, Sakusa turned over as Atsumu made an offended noise. Atsumu put his chin on his shoulder, and pressed kisses to wherever he had exposed skin.
'Get off me,' Sakusa grumbled, but made no attempt to create any distance between them. He pressed a final kiss to the base of his neck, before (reluctantly) rolling out of bed. Atsumu was never one to lay in bed all day; he got all fidgety if he didn't do something. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and headed to the kitchen to start on breakfast.
He jabbed a finger into the rice cooker to test the ratio of rice to water. If Osamu were here, he would have knocked him around the side of the head and lectured him about 'restaurant etiquette'. His apartment wasn't a restaurant, as far as he was aware.
He began dicing some vegetables, and nearly drop the knife he had in his grip as cold, slightly damp hands pressed against his bare stomach, the cool metal on his left hand making him hiss. Sakusa dug his chin into the meat of his shoulder, and lent into Atsumu's body heat, letting out a small hum. Sakusa ran cold, and the tips of his fingers and toes were always frozen. Atsumu was well aware of this, especially at night when he would press his feet against his calves. Atsumu was also aware that Sakusa would use it as an excuse to hold his hand, but he would never admit that.
'Did ya' sleep well?' Atsumu asked conversationally, Sakusa still pressed up against his back. He got a small grunt in reply, and he took it as a yes. Atsumu shuffled to the sink to wash his hands. He dried them on a towel, looking at his husband who was now slumped on top of the granite of the kitchen counter, eyes closed. He looked cute in one of Atsumu's old, stretched shirts, and boxers, hair tousled from sleep.
He crossed the small distance between them, and placed his hands under his bed shirt, rubbing small circles on Sakusa's hip bone. The dark haired man lent forward and pressed a kiss against his lips, but pulled away before Atsumu could react. He let out a whine, which made Sakusa roll his eyes, but obliged and gave another quick kiss. He rested his forehead against Atsumu's.
'Your breath stinks,' Sakusa complained.
'But ya' still kissed me twice. Because ya' love me really.' The corner of Sakusa's lips twitched up, but it ultimately turned into a frown, unwilling to confirm nor deny the statement.
'You're insufferable.'
'That's a yes in the love depar'ment.'
'No it's not. It's a strong maybe.'
'You wound me Omi-kun,' Atsumu fiend pain, a hand pressed over the right side of his chest. Sakusa pulled the hand to the other side of his chest, where his heart actually was, and let out a small laugh.
The morning was slow, but Atsumu was content with it, enjoying the fleeting touches and light banter. It was a change from the usual. Sakusa always blamed him for making them late, but they both knew it was his strict morning routine that made them the last to arrive to practice. Bokuto always made jokes about how they had been 'occupied' with each other, which he matched with a teasing wink. Sakusa would pretend to gag whilst Hinata would giggle manically, gripping onto Atsumu's shoulders, bouncing up and down.
They both ate slowly in relative silence, legs pressed up against each other under the table and quietly washed up together. It was pure domestic bliss, and Atsumu's heart swelled at the thought. If washing dishes with his husband made him this happy, he would wash dishes for as long as he could stand.
They both retired to the couch, with Sakusa practically lying on top of Atsumu, their legs tangled, and Sakusa hair tickling his chin.
'Yes,' Sakusa said suddenly, breaking the silence.
'Yeah what?' Atsumu asked, carding through his lover's hair.
'I do.'
'Yer do what?' Sakusa muttered something unintelligible, 'speak up babe.'
'Love you.' He snuggled into the crook of Atsumu's neck, hiding his face.
'I knew it. Who wouldn't? I am peak male performance.' Sakusa let out a groan as Atsumu chuckled.
'I take it back.' Sakusa didn't move though, but did place a kiss on his exposed collarbones. The TV was playing some Sunday morning show but all Atsumu could focus on was the weight against his chest, and his husband's warm breath against his neck.
Atsumu liked these kinds of mornings the most.