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The first thing Tobio registered when he woke was that his arm was dead asleep, tingling with pins and needles. His bicep, in particular, seemed to fizz like freshly cracked soda. He groaned and curled in on himself, in on something soft that tickled his cheeks. He nuzzled his face into the feeling and sighed. Tobio felt like he could drown in the comfort of it all, awash in a sea of warmth and security. Slowly, he started to discern birdsong, could almost picture the contrast of dark wings against the kiss of dawn, before managing to dredge his eyes open.
The pale, yellow light of morning filtered in through the curtains, shining on the mass of orange fluff before him, casting it in a soft glow. Shouyou was dead to the world, mouth agape and lightly snoring, with his head resting on Tobio’s very much asleep bicep. His small, yet strong and calloused hand grasping at Tobio’s sleepshirt.
Cute , he muttered in the privacy of his own mind.
Tobio watched as Shouyou’s chest rose and fell with his light breathing.
To be truthful, Tobio never found himself to be exclusively a morning person nor night owl, begrudgingly acquiescing to whatever timetable he had to keep, but this - the stillness of early morning, of the world about to wake from its slumber – had to be his favorite, for he could watch as the sun in the sky rise in time with the sun in his arms, encasing him in a soft, warm light.
It was rare that Tobio woke up before Shouyou, for the latter did indeed seem to rise with the sun, even more so now, having stuck to a rigid morning meditation routine from Brazil. Yet during these early mornings, Tobio could stare unabashedly at Shouyou, without the embarrassment of being caught. He could trace the slope of his nose, count the smattering of freckles that dusted his face, and watch as the rising sun filled the room with light, casting shadows on his face.
Tobio held his breath as Shouyou shifted, curling in closer, tangling their legs together further, before exhaling quietly. He did not want to disrupt this dreamlike stillness quite yet.
Everything about Shouyou was a dream. To not only be witness to his incredible growth - from an anxious middle schooler clad in green, to fervently soaring under the Nationals’ lights in Karasuno black, and gleaming gold on the Victory League stage - but to also be his greatest contender, meant everything to Tobio. It was such a prophetic culmination. After searching for years upon years in the shadows, he had finally found his person. Against all odds and setbacks and distances set by endless stretches of seas and continents, they both had continued to dare to find each other again and again and again. A partnership so fated to be true it was as natural as the sun rising in the east.
And oh, how brightly they shined.
Tobio never thought he would be so lucky.
Drinking in the sight of the man in his arms, Tobio figured he would suffer thousands upon millions of pins and needles numbing his arm if it meant waking up to Shouyou every morning.
The sun climbed steadily in the sky, and soon their bedroom was awash in the most golden hue, light streaming through the curtains and pooling around them like gossamer, with Tobio still entranced all the same. Shouyou's freckles brightened like stars across the bridge of his nose in the morning light.
If a picture was worth a thousand words, he was confident a best selling book series could unfurl from this sight alone. It's ironic really. Tobio used to never be one for sentiment. He was terrible with words, (often rendered mute and tomato-faced by the affections Shouyou peppered him with, which always amounts to a sly teasing smile: Why do you always hide when I compliment you, Bakageyama? Can't you see you're all I ever need? ), and yet here he found himself waxing poetic about the very same individual with all the ease of a steady stream. All in the comfort of his own mind, of course. But he's making progress towards changing that, for there's nothing better than knowing you are cherished and adored, that you are loved.
Tobio continued to gaze at his boyfriend’s face, cataloguing every detail, every pattern. A dusting of freckles that were slightly more concentrated on his left cheek than right. A ghost of crow's feet about to take wing to roost at the corners of his eyes. A featherlight eyelash nestled where the skin of the under eye intersects with the sidelong rise of his nose.
The pad of Tobio's index finger hovered over the wisp of auburn.
Shouyou's breathing started to shift from his nose to through his (still very much agape) mouth, chest dipping shallowly; a sure sign he would be waking soon. Tobio softly glided along the slope of Shouyou's nose before lightly pressing to pick up the stray eyelash and pausing to hold it up to the light. Eyes flicked towards the top left dresser drawer, where a velvet box hosting the promise of every and all of their tomorrows was stowed.
Not today, he decided. But definitely soon.
Tobio wet his lips, the comforting weight of his lover's head on his bicep, his hand still clutching his sleepshirt. With closed eyes, he blew the eyelash away. There was no specific wish to be made, for he had everything he could have ever wanted here in this bed, but an extra dash of childlike whimsy couldn't hurt. Hope was the thing with feathers after all, and the two of them knew that more than anyone.
He turned back towards Shouyou's sleeping face. The serenity of early morning, of being dipped in the golden, nectar-like hue of the rising day, caused a surge of adoration to well up in his chest and pulse through his veins. He leaned down, lips lightly ghosting over lips and the makings of eyes starting to flutter open, when a flash of grey flew in Tobio's periphery and landed on Shouyou's chest with a dull thud and an expectant mau~ .
Tobio had flinched so badly he was dizzy from the sudden movement, heart in his throat trying its best to calm down as he stared down the culprit. Shouyou scrunched his face and groaned, bursting into a raspy chuckle thick with sleep as he opened his eyes.
"Good morning, Miso," he hummed. "Guess it's time for breakfast, yeah?"
Impeccable timing is impeccable , Tobio bemoaned.
The feline in question, aptly named for the tan splotches that decorated her light grey coat, blinked at Shouyou before meowing once more and nudging his chin with the top of her head.
Tobio glanced through the crack in their bedroom door, the cat tower from the living room visible, its sisal rope still swaying from the force of Miso's turbulent exit. He lifted his hand to play with her tail as it flicked about.
"Demanding affection so early in the day like this, must think she's royalty or somethin'." Tobio muttered. He couldn't believe he'd been outdone by their own cat.
Shouyou giggled as Miso nudged him again. "Pot meet kettle, Ousamayama~." Miso meowed in agreement, paws kneading the blankets.
Tobio allowed himself to huff a laugh as he turned to meet a glowing gaze bookended by unruly orange curls, a sight as warm and honeyed as a beachfront sunrise with all the promise of clear skies.
He smiled fondly before cupping his cheek and pressing his lips to Shouyou's hairline, the scent of his shampoo and hints of their fabric softener drifting to his nose. Tobio fought to hide his grin. Shouyou smelled like coming home.
Morning light still dancing across his visage, Shouyou tilted his head to place a kiss on Tobio's palm, at the space between the heart and life lines etched in his skin. "G'morning, Tobio," he whispered, not breaking eye contact.
And what a good morning it was, to be found and to be loved unconditionally. Tobio felt his heart skip a beat before steadying back to its constant thrum, like a compass needle finding true north once again.
"G'morning, Shou."