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“Good morning, Takeba,” a sweet, sleepy voice murmurs into her hair.
“Morning—” she clears her throat, “Morning, Mitsuru,”
Mitsuru hums, rubbing her cheek into Yukari, the arms snaked around her waist tightening just enough to snugly nestle Yukari between them when she attempts to scoot over to pluck the basket of strawberries off the counter. “Do you mind?” Yukari protests feebly, voice strained; as much as she tries to hide it in the more open spaces of the dorm, Mitsuru’s pliant and sugary demeanor in the mornings leaves Yukari’s mind reeling and heart thumping. All she wants to do is spin around and tug at Mitsuru’s sleep-swollen cheeks like a melty marshmallow. She’d (gently) bite Mitsuru’s cheek if she would let her, but Yukari doesn’t think the chances are that high.
“Not to be difficult, but yes, I mind,” Mitsuru replies, voice still adorably muffled by Yukari’s hair.
“It’s okay, that’s fine,” Yukari manages weakly, followed by a resigned but fond scrunch of her face. She can literally feel the heat rising to her cheeks, turning as ruddy as the pile of strawberries her fingers were struggling to reach just a moment ago. She has to stay strong— if Junpei, Hamuko, or even Aigis stumbled into the kitchen right now, Yukari wouldn’t hear the end of it. After a moment of clenching and unclenching her fists against the counter, Yukari whines, “Mitsuruuuuuuuu,” to which the older responds with a confused little hmph that knocks every reservation Yukari was desperately trying to adhere to out of her mind.
She turns to face Mitsuru (quite the feat, considering how tightly the latter’s arms were wrapped around her waist), cupping Mitsuru’s face and rubbing her thumbs in circles, squishing her cheeks up with every rotation. Mitsuru makes another cute noise of protest, fingers slipping away from Yukari’s midriff to softly curl around her wrists. Despite the sleepy, disgruntled look on Mitsuru’s face, she makes no move to pull Yukari’s hands away, and Yukari thinks biting Mitsuru’s cheek may actually be in the cards this morning.
Yukari’s not sure why her girlfriend looks heart wrenchingly lovable, even more so than usual, in her rumpled pajamas with gorgeous red tendrils of hair curling out of the messy updo she tied with a ribbon borrowed from Yukari’s vanity. “Can I bite your cheek?” she asks aloud, thumbs halting their assault on Mitsuru’s soft cheeks (now red from the attention).
“Weirdo,” Mitsuru huffs, trying to sound appalled but failing to hide her amusement.
“We need to get you away from Junpei,” Yukari says with a dejected shake of her head. “There is no way you just said that,”
But Mitsuru didn’t say she couldn’t, so Yukari drops her hands from Mitsuru’s face to her shoulders and leans in to gently pinch Mitsuru’s cheek between her teeth. Yukari might be going insane from spending the Dark Hour trudging her way through Tartarus every night for the past week, but she thinks she can actually taste a hint of sugary soft vanilla— genuinely like a marshmallow— against her lips.
She pulls back, blinking slowly like she’s been hit with Marin Karin, meeting Mitsuru’s curious gaze. “Are you wearing my perfume?” she breathes, and Mitsuru’s eyes widen before flicking away to inspect the strawberries she denied Yukari earlier. Yukari watches Mitsuru’s cheeks flush in real time, the faint red from earlier mostly gone only to be replaced by a flood of color nearly as bright as her lover’s hair.
“I didn’t spray it on myself,” Mitsuru finally offers, stumbling over her words. “I’m sorry, Takeba, I should have asked, I was just…”
“It’s okay, Mitsuru, it’s cute,” Yukari reassures her, sweet smile illuminating her face as she gazes at her girlfriend. “You used a spritz in your room, or something?” Her voice carries a teasing lilt to it now, and Mitsuru thinks she might actually be done for.
“Something like that,” she says with finality. She straightens out her posture and clears her throat, sleepy haze from earlier mostly dissipated (much to Yukari’s disappointment; she loves her girlfriend with all her heart, always, but there’s something about Mitsuru in the mornings that leaves her feeling more giddy than Akihiko after he downs a beef bowl).
“Like what?” Yukari wheedles, bringing one of the hands resting on Mitsuru’s shoulders back up to her face to gently nudge at her jaw so she’ll face Yukari again.
“I may have put a bit on my pillowcase,” Mitsuru says quickly, gaze flitting to Yukari’s face just in time to catch the teasing quirk of her lip disappear as her mouth drops open in unadulterated amazement. Feeling the need to explain herself, she continues, “I happen to sleep better in your company, is all. I thought the presence of your perfume might replicate that feeling,”
The second the words are out of her mouth, Mitsuru realizes that she has not only dug her own grave, but laid in it and begged Yukari to start shoveling dirt onto her face. Yukari bursts into a fit of melodic giggles, trilling so sweetly in Mitsuru’s ear that she can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed in light of Yukari’s dazzling smile and the sparkle of her warm eyes as they crinkle with joy. “You’re my favorite person in the world,” she sighs as the giggles subside, cheek pressed against Mitsuru’s. “You could always just ask me to sleep over, you know. I’m just across the hall,”
“I wouldn’t want to bother you after how hard you’ve been training,” Mitsuru says quietly, relishing in their close proximity and the content expression on Yukari’s face that allows Mitsuru to count every prettily curled eyelash brushing against Yukari’s cheeks.
“I wouldn’t deny you anything you asked of me,” Yukari says, eyes still closed. She can’t see the way Mitsuru positively glows at the words. “I think I sleep better when I’m with you, too,” she confesses.
“We can do that from now on, then,” says Mitsuru, voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers brush light as a feather against Yukari’s, a promise hidden in her words and the gentleness of her touch.
“I’d really like that,” Yukari hums, and the butterflies that burst to life whenever Mitsuru is with her positively sing with affection.
“Can I kiss you?” she brings herself to ask, and she’s rewarded with another honeyed smile from her lover.
“Like I said, I couldn’t possibly deny you of anything you ask of me,” and leans in to tenderly press their lips together. Mitsuru has had plenty of decadent, smooth confections due to the onslaught of chocolate boxes shyly thrusted into her hands on Valentine’s Day from her many admirers and the polite gifts stacked in a corner of her father’s office from the many rich business people he meets, but she can confidently say nothing could ever come close to the velvety embrace of Yukari’s lips against hers that leave her positively melting in Yukari’s grasp no matter how chaste the kiss is.
She didn’t understand the phrase “head in the clouds” with how logical and structured she likes to keep everything, until Yukari took her hand, pointed to the sky, and took her there, simple as that. Everything about Yukari makes her feel light— a literal breath of fresh air that breezed into her heart and made itself at home. Mitsuru sees the bright Port Island sun in Yukari’s eyes and radiant smile, and she feels like her cheeks have just been whipped by the brisk wind every time Yukari twists a lock of Mitsuru’s hair around her finger or casually smooths at her skirt when they share a sofa in the common room. Even Tartarus feels less gloomy and harrowing by Yukari’s side— Mitsuru hasn’t noticed it yet, but everyone else has to stifle a grin at the way her expression sours whenever Hamuko puts together a Tartarus exploration team that separates Yukari from her.
She’s brought back to the ground by someone obnoxiously clearing their throat from behind the counter, and reluctantly pulls away from Yukari to fix them with the nasty glare she saves for shadows (and the team when they consistently refuse to study). Akihiko embarrassedly (and apologetically, to his credit) blinks back at her. “You, um, you guys are blocking the shelf with the protein powder,” he mumbles.
Wordlessly, Yukari turns to open the cabinet and rummage for a bottle that looks vaguely like protein powder— she doesn’t really care if it’s what he’s looking for or not— and thrusts it into his arms before promptly turning back to face Mitsuru and leans in again. Akihiko thankfully takes the hint and slinks off to the common area, and the two lovers laugh together in sweet harmony.
“So commanding, Takeba,” Mitsuru teases, but she can’t mask the pride and affection her tone is soaked in.
“Yeah, yeah,” Yukari snorts. “Speaking of, you can steal my perfume, shamelessly ask for kisses and cuddles, but you can’t call me by my first name?”
Mitsuru’s face blooms into a beautiful blush (for the nth time this morning) like the flowers Yukari sometimes picks up from the shop near the station for the dorm, the petals shielding her heart unfurling in the sweetest way for Yukari and Yukari alone. Just like the bouquets, Mitsuru flourishes under Yukari’s careful and doting attention: so she figures Yukari is right, it’s about time she lowers that final barrier and bares her all to the person who so attentively holds her heart in her hands.
“I love you, Yukari,”
Her voice comes out softly, lovingly, blanketing Yukari with a soothing warmth and fills her with adoration from tip to toe, itching to beg Mitsuru to profess her feelings one more time so she can trace her fingertip across every sweet shape her lips make as she says Yukari’s name. But she won’t be greedy, not today, when Mitsuru has been so sweet and so brave for her.
“I love you too, Mitsuru.”