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It was a rare morning that saw Koushi out of bed before the sun. It was an even rarer morning that it happened of Koushi’s own free will. No, he much preferred to be woken up with a solid weight slipping into the bed behind him, warm lips pressed against his neck even as wet hair soaked into the pillow under their heads. Waking up to an empty bed just didn’t have the same appeal. But something about this morning had him up and padding around the tiny farmhouse just as the sun first peaked up over the horizon, filling the even tinier kitchen with a warm glow that grew with every passing minute.
The soft buttery cream of the kitchen walls had seemed too plain, too simple when first painted, but since then Koushi had fallen in love with the sweet comfort of the light-filled room. It was like being wrapped in the gentle warmth of a summer morning every time he sat at the little counter to sip his tea. He sat there now, inhaling the steam that wafted gently off his favorite mug, delighting in the spice and richness of the dandelion tea that had to be purchased special from the farmer’s market (which it was, dutifully on the first Sunday of every month).
This morning wasn’t for tea, though -- well, it was for tea, every morning was for tea -- but not solely for tea. No, Koushi had other things to accomplish this morning. There was a tray of muffins in the oven, the good blend of coffee percolating, and a small black box on the counter. He’d even had time to carefully cut sunflowers from the lovingly tended garden outside and place them in a vase.
All he had left to do was wait, hence the tea indulgence. Glancing at the clock on the wall, a simple piece with a gold rim inscribed with “Baby, we’ve got nothing but time”-- an old joke that turned into a sweet reminder on mornings like this. He had about five minutes left of baking time and ten minutes left total. He took another sip of tea, looking out the picture window over the sink to admire the amber glow peeking through the trees as he waited.
It was an important morning, he supposed. Maybe not as important as some, but definitely more important than others. Yet, he found himself in the same soft gray joggers and cozy saffron-colored sweater he wore to relax on any normal weekend day. There was a decided comfort in spending important days in casual clothes and Koushi reveled in it. He’d thought a lot about how to handle important days.
In his head he'd planned big moments, exciting events, intimate romances. None of it compared to this, though. This space where they were so happy, these moments where they were so in love. It was here, in this kitchen that still smelled faintly of meals cooked together and had the echo of their laughter caught in every drawer. Koushi smiled to himself, eyes roaming the room that had sold them on this place, on this life together. Small but open, well lit, space for them to grow and to live and to love.
The side door closed softly and Koushi heard the telltale sound of well-intentioned-but-still-heavy footfalls across the old wooden boards he’d promised he’d look into updating someday (he wouldn’t, he loved the creaky old boards like every other charming-but-possibly-unsafe thing in this house). He checked the timer on the oven, two minutes left. Perfect. Just enough time for the house’s other occupant to shower after his morning run and follow his nose to the kitchen.
With muffins cooling on the counter, coffee in a mug next to his tea, and the little black box still sitting untouched, Koushi waited. Not long, but long enough to tuck his feet up on the chair, wrap his arms around his knees, and lay his head against his legs to close his eyes for just a moment. Long enough that the warmth of a rough palm against his cheek would have startled him had it not been paired with the whisper of his name, soft as silk on his ears.
“Kou.”
He smiled up into the warm ochre eyes, breathing out a gentle sigh at the contact.
“You’re up early, love.” It was a statement, but a question, too.
The way that voice poured into him, it was more potent than any tea or coffee to wake him fully. Koushi tilted his chin up in a silent request, met easily with a press of lips. Soft, sweet, almost wistful, with a tiny tremble to the strong jaw Koushi ran his fingertips over. Pulling back, he angled his head slightly, asking a question of his own.
There was a sheepish movement as a broad hand rubbed short hairs at the back of a neck. The tanned face ducked down a little, no longer meeting Koushi’s eyes.
“That obvious, huh?”
The embarrassed chuckle after the words had Koushi’s eyebrows knitting together. Had he done something wrong? He waited, waited for more.
“I like waking you up, is all... Seeing you still in bed feels like a dream, but getting to hold you as you wake up makes it real again.”
Koushi softened, reaching up now to press his own palm against the tanned cheek and bring their gaze together again. That rich baritone continued, melting into him like honey.
“I- I get nervous when you’re not there. Like maybe I dreamed it all.”
At that, a small huffed chuckle escaped Koushi, even as his chest tightened. He’d always felt the same, like this man and this life were too good, too much for him to deserve. But he’d always thought that was something only he felt. When the man in front of him was the epitome of Good, how could he ever question it?
Their eyes met again, muted pewter and deep havana, and a look of understanding passed between them. Koushi tried to clear his throat a little, his voice rough with disuse.
“You still feel like a dream to me, too.”
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how long they’d been like this, friends, partners, lovers. Weekdays were a sweet routine-- wistful kisses as they bustled out the front door, loving notes left in lunch boxes, sleepy cuddles at the end of the day-- but weekends always felt like a pocket of time that time itself forgot. When they were able to be here, in their little house, with the morning sun dappling the rooms in light, they were able to just be.
They sometimes talked late into the night, bathing in the sound of the other’s voice and the uninterrupted focus they were able to allow. Sometimes they didn’t speak at all, preferring to remain wrapped in each other, in blankets, in soft sighs and softer skin. And sometimes like this, they talked a little, and looked a lot. Allowing the shine of their eyes and the soft graze of lips or fingertips to try to share the depth of love they felt that even hours of words or intimacy couldn’t convey.
A red tinge flooded his man’s sun-kissed skin as Koushi watched, the heat of it pooling in the palm still pressed there. After all this time, after so many years, the fact that this man’s voice still made his bones go wobbly and the fact that Koushi’s words could elicit the most beautiful sunset-red flush meant everything.
He didn’t say anything else, but dropped his hand to the counter to slide a plate with a muffin closer and press the mug of coffee into the rough palms that he much preferred to feel against his cheek or the small of his back. But there was time for that yet. They had nothing but time, as the clock reminded him. They had hours to spend lost in their own little world for another glorious two days. Koushi thought that was possibly the only real draw to waking up before the sun, getting to spend every glowing hour together.
The grateful smile Koushi got in response to the simple gesture of breakfast rivaled the golden haze of the sun behind him. Koushi’s breath caught in his chest. He’d often heard his own hair compared to silver, to something precious, but he knew it was only because those making the comparison had never seen this. Had never seen this man, with his broad chest and proud shoulders and gentle hands, smiling with the light of the sun at his back, lining his edges like the golden god he was in Koushi’s world.
This tangible god dropped firmly in the chair beside Koushi, and Koushi felt his legs lifted to settle on the warm lap, one hand resting against his shin, a thumb stroking long sweeping touches against his calf. Something about the touch felt unsure, uneasy. Koushi slid from his chair and into the lap his legs had previously occupied. Strong arms encircled his waist, a nose pushed into his collarbone, and he felt his spine loosen into the hold. A sigh flowed from him, ruffling over the hair tucked just under his chin, and he’d have been embarrassed at the deep level of contentment and relief in it had the same sound not been released from the lips nestled against his skin at the same time.
They chuckled together. It had been too long, far too long, for them to still feel like this-- or so they had been told. But every day felt like this. Awed, precious, perfect. The first real touch of the morning always felt like a homecoming, a settling of something soft but heavy within their bones. Maybe someday the glow would wear off, the novelty of being so happy, so treasured, so in love. It wouldn’t be today, though. The coffee and tea were nearly forgotten, the muffins untouched, the golden ring still hidden within the velvet of the black box. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered besides this moment, this embrace, and the sound of Koushi’s voice, like a prayer.
“Daichi, I have a question for you.”
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