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The warmth of the morning made his eyes heavy, and as usual, Fugo struggled to get them open. His mouth was sour in the morning, and he cringed at the taste, but took in a deep breath regardless. He stretched out, his bones popping from their static position throughout the night, and he bumped into a warm body to his left. Fugo smiled and turned his head, being met with the only sight that made it worth waking up.
Giorno’s eyes were barely open themselves, just enough that Fugo could see the color in his irises, and the edges of them crinkled with a returning smile when Fugo’s eyes locked with his. His head was just shy of tucking into Fugo’s shoulder, arm having been thrown over Fugo’s torso some time in the night, holding him loosely. Fugo curled into the touch and Giorno rolled back onto his side to pull him in.
And thus went their mornings. Giorno would wake up first and Fugo would follow. Giorno would wait until Fugo was awake to pull him into his arms, not willing to do so without permission, and the act itself meant more than the hugs.
Though, the hugs were always nice.
Fugo pressed his face into Giorno’s collarbone and inhaled. He could smell their detergent on Giorno’s clothes; it smelled like mint and something vaguely floral. Giorno’s hands dragged up and down his back and Fugo melted.
The temptation to let his eyes fall shut once more, letting himself fall whilst he slept was strong, but Fugo wanted to be awake. Even if he knew Giorno wouldn’t disappear, being able to see it for himself was always worth it. Even when he got used to it, it was worth it.
Shifting so he could see Giorno’s face, framed by his lightly curled hair, Fugo breathed out a whisper. “Hey.”
Giorno’s voice was scratchy from sleep, and his stale breath puffed in Fugo’s face slightly, but it didn’t change that this was Fugo’s favorite part: the reciprocation. And if Fugo knew him at all, it was Giorno’s, too.
“Hey. Good morning.”
Every morning that Fugo woke up in these arms, Giorno became more beautiful.
“Good morning.”
Unfortunately, Fugo had no control of his body at the moment, and ended up yawning directly in Giorno’s face. Embarrassed, he ducked his head to hide it, and he felt Giorno’s chest shake with silent laughter. “Sleep well?”
“Mm… yeah.” Fugo’s ears were hot and his face felt the same, until a cool hand cupped the left side of his face, forcing him to look up again.
“It’s okay, honey.” Giorno stifled his own yawn and Fugo felt the movement beneath him. “Please, look at me. I want to see your face.”
Fugo relented, he always relented, and nodded. His face was still red. “Okay.”
Pleased, Giorno shifted his hand into Fugo’s hair, curling the strands around his fingers and brushing them back. He scratched absently at a spot behind Fugo’s ear and Fugo’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, a giddy, sleepy smile on his face. Giorno’s expression lifted a little, and he giggled, doing it once more. Fugo finally gave up and let his eyes fall shut, Giorno’s hands undoing him once again.
And so it went for the rest of the morning. At some point, Giorno started humming, one hand stroking through Fugo’s hair in a continuous, familiar rhythm, and the other traced hearts on Fugo’s lower back. Fugo did nothing except breathe, did nothing except be, and let himself be loved.
Fugo opened his eyes again just in time for Giorno to sweep the hair off of his forehead and press a kiss right below his hairline, keeping his lips flush to the skin as he smiled.
“Stay with me a while, Panna.”
Fugo wanted nothing more than to do what Giorno asked.