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Hero is in every way a beautiful person—handsome, pretty, breathtaking—but in the early hours of the morning, when the orange glow of sunrise has only just begun to peak through their drawn curtains, Mari can only think of him as gorgeous.
He’s not an early riser, never has been. Even on the days when they have places to be, Hero will doze after his alarm for as long as Mari will let him, face twitching as he slowly comes to terms with the fact that he has to be awake. Today is not one of those days—they both have the day off, miraculously—so Mari lets him sleep, her hands laced together across his chest, watching the way his breaths gently disturb the hair that gathers between his eyes.
His dark skin takes on almost a golden undertone in this lighting. His hair and lashes glitter and his lips part slightly for even breaths, rounding out the anxiety-driven edges and the usual focused crease between his brows. Hero is always, always lovely to look at, but he looks younger than this, less like the responsible older brother and friend and classmate and more like the sweet boy Mari fell in love with years ago, the one who she caught studying ASL guide books at the library before he could even tell her he was trying to learn.
Mari indulges in this time just as much as he must, shifting against him to twine their legs together, freeing one of her arms so she can cup his face, the softness of his cheek, feel the slight give of his freckled skin beneath her finger. Hero stirs only slightly, just enough to lean subconsciously after her touch, his soft sigh tickling the inside of her wrist. Mari smiles at him, and it’s a full and beaming thing as warmth unfurls in her chest. She leans over to kiss the bridge of his nose just to watch it crinkle, then lets out a light giggle.
At the sound, Hero shifts, and Mari watches his eyes dance beneath still-shut eyelids. His lips draw together, then part with a yawn, and Mari is delighted to hear him sneeze afterwards, eyes opening with a dazed, confused look. Understanding lights up those gentle browns the moment they make eye contact, and then Hero is smiling at her, sweet as honey, truly and properly leaning into her hand now and turning his face to kiss her pulse point.
Even his lips are soft. Mari continues tracing her thumb under his eye while Hero wakes himself up, kissing up to her palm and lingering their with his lips, eyelids fluttering. He’s so pretty. He’s so incredibly pretty that Mari half wants to grab his nose and twig it, or dig her fingers into his sides—something to hear him laughing and whining at her, smiling in that breathless, toothy way he does when nobody else is around. When Mari has gotten to him. It’s early and they’re alone and Hero is endlessly patient with her and Mari knows that she could, but for now she doesn’t, instead waiting for him to pull back from her hand with his usual lopsided grin.
“Morning,” Hero drawls, and his voice is low and husky with sleep. Mari leans in to kiss him, and Hero hums against her lips, shifting beneath her. His arms creep around her sides and pull her closer, and Mari allows it, melting against the warmth of his chest and leaning in to press their foreheads together. Hero kisses her tenderly, carefully, like he wants to be sure he does it right. Years of comfort and patience and knowing each other couldn’t beat that quality out of him. Mari likes it, though. Likes that Hero regards her as something precious to kiss.
She pulls back so she can kiss him again, feel the little intake of breath he lets in against her lips. When she withdraws for the second time, Hero is gazing at her so warmly Mari feels her heart stutter in her chest and has to kiss him again. And just one more time after that, so she can feel Hero laughing into her mouth.
“You okay?” Hero asks, voice muffled by Mari’s lips. His hands crawl to rest between her shoulderblades, fingers trailing along her spine. “You didn’t have a bad dream or anything, did you?”
“I’m not allowed to kiss my own boyfriend?” Mari responds, mostly teasing, stealing another quick peck before Hero can continue. He laughs again, head falling back against the pillow and eyes dropping shut, and Mari appreciates the smooth column of skin along his neck, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
He says, “I never said that,” and Mari leans in closer to kiss his jaw, his throat, the underside of his chin. She can feel Hero’s pulse here, the way it still beats a little fast even after all their years together. Mari kisses him a little more insistently and feels the rumbling of Hero’s voice, like he’s going to say something, so she moves to kiss his pierced ear lobe to quiet him. Not that she doesn’t want to hear him, but she feels lightheaded off the feeling of being able to kiss him so freely, so openly, still enveloped in the warmth of their bedsheets, of each other. She’s not quite ready to get out of bed yet.
One of Hero’s hands threads fingers through Mari’s hair, not really doing anything beyond that, just resting against the back of her head. Mari sighs at the touch, moving closer to ghost kisses along his freckles. She kisses over Hero’s dimple, too, as he grins again, and their eyes meet for a brief moment before Hero reaches up to take her by the chin, bringing their lips together in another, proper kiss.
“This is nice,” Hero admits. “You sure nothing brought it on?”
“Nothing bad,” Mari says. She leans her forehead into his and keeps her eyes open so she can drink in the pretty colour of his brown eyes, their amber shine, even though the proximity makes them blurry. “How can I be in bed with you and not kiss you?”
“Mari,” Hero laughs, sounding embarrassed like they haven’t been dating for nearly half the time they’ve known one another. Mari grins though, emboldened by the little flustered note in Hero’s voice and kisses him again. Eventually Hero must grow tired of not reciprocating, because his hands drop again to encircle Mari’s waist, her only warning before he’s rolling them over, dropping Mari on her back against the mattress.
Breathless giggles burst out of Mari at the rush of movement, and more follow as Hero ducks his head to kiss along her neck, down to her shoulder, where his own t-shirt has slipped off slightly. One of his hands braces against the mattress while the other brushes through her hair, keeping it out of her face, fingers resting behind her ear while he does his thing. Hero’s lips are impossibly warm. It’s more like getting kissed by a heated pillow than an actual person. Mari lazily hooks one leg around his knee, gazing down at him, at his cowlicks, always present but made messer by sleep. They only spring up again after she runs her fingers through them.
The touch pulls Hero’s face from her neck, and he smiles at her, broad and dopey, his eyes soft like goose down. It’s another one of those looks he only brings out when they’re alone in the early mornings, the kind Mari has gotten to familiarise herself with, just as she’s familiarised herself with all of Hero’s little idiosyncrasies, the things he deems unnecessary or unpresentable, the parts of himself that don’t serve a greater purpose. Hero wants to be useful to other people practically above all else, and he’s very good at it—very helpful, very earnest, very sweet. But Mari likes the parts of him that are selfish and cowardly more, likes that Hero will show them to her.
“I love you,” Mari says, and her voice is so full and the warmth she feels is so heady, it’s impossible to properly convey her feelings with the words alone. Hero gets it, though, because he gets everything about her, has gotten Mari for as long as they’ve been alive. He dips in, lips pressing gently against the bridge of her nose, and Mari sighs at the feeling of it.
“I love you too,” Hero whispers, and when he leans in to kiss her on the lips again Mari hooks an arm around his neck to keep him here. Just for a while longer, before one of them gets hungry enough to leave the cocoon of their sheets. It won’t be a problem. They have the whole day to mess around like this, their whole lives to love each other…
But Mari is so wrapped up in the sweet slowness of this morning, a part of her never wants it to end. Hero doesn’t deny her, because he’s never denied her anything; he tilts his head forward and parts his lips and all Mari can think is that she loves him, deep and smart in her chest.
She’ll tell him, again, she’ll tell him as much over and over again until they’re both sick of the sound… when they’re done kissing.
It might be a while.