Chapter Text
Volume 1
Each morning, they wake up before the sun rises.
Bakugou’s alarm goes off first. Fifteen minutes later, Kirishima’s does the same. It’s mostly a false hope for more sleep, at least that’s what he originally said. Now, Kirishima mostly just rolls over to watch. His eyes are still half open, sleep crusting the corners, threatening to close and throw him back under, but somehow he manages.
He watches Bakugou rise and stretch. He pulls his arms up high until there’s small pops and cracks, a very silent groan of approval that follows. He rolls his shoulders and shakes the remaining sleep from his body. Kirishima’s eyes never once moved from his back having memorized the shifting of his muscles under skin at this point, and still too in awe to look away.
It’s dark, there’s barely any light in the room beyond the glow of Bakugou’s phone screen and the very small glimpse of the street lamps illuminating the still quiet city in orange that manages to peak in from their drawn curtains. But, their eyes are adjusted. Bakugou roams the room effectively, still being as quiet as he possibly can to be polite and not wake Kirishima even if he knows the other man is perfectly awake watching him from their warm bed.
He opens the dresser drawer quietly, changing from sleeping pants into running shorts and a tank top. Pulls out socks before moving to the adjoined bathroom to wash his face, still in the dark, waking himself up further with a splash of icy water onto his face.
No matter if Bakugou’s alarm goes off first and he rises before Kirishima, he still is not a morning person. He takes far more to wake up then just laying to watch his husband’s back move in the dark; the pure allure of the warm body that escaped him forcing him to rise.
When Bakugou comes back, Kirishima can still tell that with only a little push he could manage to make the man crawl back into bed, into his arms, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good, so he’s kind this morning. He gets up when Bakugou has only been standing looking down at him for ten seconds, finally letting out a sigh and quieting his phone’s alarm moments before it can sound.
He rises to fall into Bakugou’s arms, wrapping arms around his neck to kiss lips dry and pliant in the very early morning. Bakugou accepts the kiss hungrily, the motion still soft and lazy with the time, but his intentions clear as he doesn’t want to let go, devouring the small time he has before Kirishima does pull away and smiles at him. Both of their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room so they could make out the features of the other.
“You’ve got three minutes before I leave you.”
Kirishima gasps, mocking his hurt. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
He doesn’t. Doesn’t have to. He knows well enough by now that Bakugou would leave him if necessary, but the man still gives him a leniency of fifty seconds so Kirishima can find his headphones in the dark. Bakugou is growing soft in his old age.
They head out just as the first glows of sunlight break the horizon to lighten the dark blues of the night.
They don’t talk. They don’t have to. They just run beside each other, panting softly, knowing their routine together.