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Nanami wakes up a few minutes before his alarm clock can go off. He's been doing that more and more often recently, relying on his body to settle into a new circadian rhythm. It might be a good thing but really, Nanami would prefer those extra minutes of sleep. Still, he blinks at the white ceiling, dispelling the remnants of his dream before shifting his head to look at his left where Gojo's rolled on his side, staring at Nanami in silence while cupping his own jaw.
"I didn't think it was possible but that gets creepier every time you do it," Nanami says, his voice a little croaky so he clears his throat. There's a gasp so wounded from Gojo that he might be fooled into believing it was genuine, if not for the way his eyes twinkle, raw moonstone.
"I think what you mean to say is good morning and actually this is very romantic." Gojo nods as best he can while still lying down, only managing to mess up his hair, though the strands remain without frizz despite the friction. Another damning trait of him being able to do no wrong. Nanami shuffles so they can face each other, long past caring about his morning breath.
"Staring at me while I sleep for an undetermined length of time is romantic?"
Gojo grins in that way which he knows is disarming, one corner tilted up more than the other and the strange sharpness of his incisors on show. It somehow manages to be roguish even though Gojo was a pampered clan kid and is now a clan head. "I prefer the word observed but yes, this is a proven fact."
Nanami narrows his eyes, uncertain of where this mental gymnastics will take them so early in the morning. "What's your source?"
"Edward did it in Twilight and he got the girl in the end."
A tickle starts in Nanami's face and it's just because of experience that he manages to keep his expression neutral. "Edward was a vampire and the age gap negates any potential romance."
"We've got an age gap," Gojo replies, his grin widening while his wiggles his brows and draws closer. "I still managed to woo you." It's enough for Nanami to stop holding back his laugh, burying his face in the warmth hidden between the slope of Gojo's shoulder and neck just so he can properly feel Gojo's mirroring laugh and how his whole body shakes with it. It's perhaps the best way to wake himself, hearing Gojo's breathing muffled into his hair. When the alarm clock does end up going off, Nanami feels more ready to take on the day. Though when he moves to get up, Gojo clings to his waist, holding him down.
"We need to get up, Satoru."
Gojo only groans, loosening his grip and pouting. "We should spend the day in bed." Nanami snorts at the unrealistic desire, a short sound that's half in agreement.
"We have engagements to attend and you're aware of that." Gojo groans again, low pitched but relenting since he picks himself out of bed, the sheets falling from his broad shoulders when he turns the other way. Nanami watches the flex of muscles in his back, still so appealing, even moreso since he gets to watch Gojo maintain his physique in the gym thrice a week. He would reach out to touch but that's a surefire way to not be on time so he satisfies himself with just watching Gojo stand, stretching his arms out with a yawn.
The light coming in through a slit in the blinds paints one half of Gojo golden. It's impossible for Nanami's breath not to catch in his throat, susceptible to Gojo's beauty no matter the flow of time or how he's already memorised every inch of him during their decades together.
"Who's the creep now?" Gojo teases, bending at the waist to pin Nanami with every shade of the Six Eyes. He isn't fooling anyone, not with the tell-tale pink already blooming along his cheekbones. He's a fiend for Nanami's attention, drunk on this alone.
"Still you." Nanami stands, rubbing at his side and pottering over to their ensuite. Light footsteps follow behind him and Nanami plucks their toothbrushes out of the holder, wetting both before pumping out toothpaste and handing Gojo his. A silly habit from when they were younger and Gojo would act cute just to get Nanami to dote on him. It worked, unfortunately and now Nanami is locked into the routine, brushing his teeth at one sink while thinking over his schedule for the day. He'll be meeting with a rep from an offshoot of the clan to settle some dispute, infighting more common than he'd once expected. It turns out that he's good at mediation, certainly better than Gojo who has no patience for the nuance of not offending those who he deems to be in the wrong.
By the time he's done with the mental checklist, he's been stood for too long, the handle of his toothbrush leaving a red mark on his palm that fades as he rinses his mouth. Gojo's no longer at his side, music being played from their room as he sets about getting ready. It's something foreign, probably picked up during the last overseas mission he'd taken. Nanami pokes his head out and is unsurprised by the sight of Gojo moving around as if in a dance, still somehow hopping to the beat even with his trousers half on. It's ridiculous. It makes warmth settle in Nanami's chest, offsetting the chill of the season.
He ignores the familiar feeling and wastes no time following suit, desiring food after skipping dinner last night. Once again, Gojo's a step ahead and Nanami joins him in front of the mirror opposite their bed, a large square item that Gojo had ordered from overseas, some designer piece which he can't remember the name of right now. It's surrounded by pictures, all held in golden embossed frames, some of them and some of the kids over the years. Nanami hung them all up himself, climbing up on a ladder when he started running out of space, Gojo keeping him steady as if after all the curses a glorified step stool would be the thing to take him out.
Still, Nanami's eyes don't linger and he takes in the sight of himself, and then when Gojo stands beside him he takes in the sight of them as a unit. Both dressed in matching lounge clothes, a choice which many would wrongly attribute to an overzealous Gojo when, in actual fact, Nanami has his own brand of romance too.
Gojo is more beautiful this way, when he's not performing for anyone, his hands hanging loose at his sides. He's still taller but the difference is no longer overbearing. There are lines around his mouth, faint but the evidence of time spent smiling. Gojo remains untouched really by most of the age markers which have firmly imprinted themselves on Nanami. They're not old but sometimes Nanami can feel all fifty-two of his accumulated years and wonders how Gojo can be so sprightly.
It's even more obvious like this, when Nanami's hair stands out like a blaring siren. He's gone grey quite early, very little blonde left. They'd all, especially Gojo, made jokes about it when they were younger but when it actually ended up happening Gojo was enraptured, from running his hands along Nanami's scalp during mundane moments to tugging on the locks while Nanami is inside him. Shoko has claimed that going grey was likely the result of stress, too many missions in one small period being enough to kick-start the process. Nanami has to agree, feeling the difference greatly now that the most he does is capped at three a week, his duties having grown more complex than just completing missions.
There's a hand on the small of his back, steady and sure. Nanami already knows what's coming but his stomach still manages a flutter when Gojo leans his head down onto his shoulder and looks at him through the reflection. He does what he always does on slow, quiet mornings like this. "Look, you're truly a Gojo," he jokes, pointing a finger up in the direction of Nanami's hair. It's sweet actually and Nanami usually shares in the joke, never mind that he's legally been a Gojo for close to twenty years. But today, in the security of the room they call theirs, he imagines what it would have been like to have had the same upbringing Gojo did, if only to share in his little pains just a bit more. The picture is bittersweet and Nanami is pulled away from it by a pinch of his cheeks, bordering on just this side of painful.
"Ow," he says, with no emotion at all, shifting as Gojo lifts away from his shoulder to look at him properly now, face-to-face and not secondhand through reflections.
"Don't get that faraway look in your eyes," Gojo chides, almost frowning. He jabs a finger at Nanami's chest to really drive home the point. "I was being cute, not trying to push you into an existential crisis."
There's a flood of love inside Nanami's ribcage, sudden adoration which makes him feel so full that it would be scary if not for the fact that he's experienced it so many times before. Always overwhelming and always for Gojo. He deals with it the only way he knows how. He brushes aside his hand, tilting back his head to brush his lips against Gojo's. It's an exact known, chaste and lasting a moment. But they've built up a lifetime of moments like this, Nanami clinging onto how Gojo's lips are more cherry now than the strawberry they once were. The noise inside his head falls silent.
"Let's go have breakfast."
And Gojo, who's always just the slightest bit dazed at times like this, smiles like another sun before looping their arms together and pulling him with great verve out of the door.
Nanami will never tire of this.