Work Text:
The morning sun in Vasa – especially insistent at this time of year – cut through the half-drawn curtains, slicing the bedroom dimness with sharp blades of light. Dust motes swirled lazily in the beams, tiny flecks of gold suspended in the air like something almost magical. For Jakob, it was better than any alarm. His eyes flew open and he sat up in bed, almost bouncing.
To his left lay Kevin, long, lean, and awkwardly jointed. His breathing was slow and deep, one arm draped across Jakob's stomach like a lead anchor. Getting free without disturbing him was impossible, but Jakob didn't even try. He stretched, cracked his neck, and with an enthusiasm entirely unsuited to seven in the morning, rattled off into Kevin's ear:
“Kev. Keeeev. The sun's up! Birds are singing! I can hear at least three different kinds out there, maybe four–is that a chaffinch? And the sky's so, sooo blue – come on, look!”
Kevin didn't open his eyes. His chest rose in a heavy sigh. He rolled over to face the wall and pulled a pillow over his head. From under it came a muffled but calm voice, weathered by years of enduring exactly this kind of morning assault:
“Jakob. Begone.”
Jakob giggled and nudged Kevin with his heel before switching targets. Kevin's foot twitched in retaliation, a lazy, half-hearted kick that missed entirely, and Jakob was already gone – already wriggling across the bed in a graceless, happy squirm, full of ungovernable enthusiasm.
Axel slept on the other side of their king-sized bed. He lay curled slightly inward, knees drawn up, one hand tucked under his cheek like a child. On the nightstand beside him sat an open laptop with a dark screen and an empty mug from his fourth coffee of the night. He'd gone to bed around five, having finally balanced the travel expenses and sent several emails about their upcoming mini-tour. The spreadsheet had fought him viciously – a rogue decimal point in the logistics budget had cascaded into an hour of recalculation, and the venue in Borgå still hadn't confirmed the advance sheet. Even now his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets as if still reaching for the keyboard.
Jakob crawled closer, the mattress dipping and bouncing beneath his weight, studying the sleep-softened features. Without his glasses, Axel always looked especially defenseless: his thin eyelids twitched, his lashes cast faint shadows on his flushed cheeks, and his barely-there brows were slightly furrowed. Even in his sleep, he looked like he was puzzling something out.
“Axel,” Jakob whispered. “Aaaaaxel. Are you asleep?”
A groan was the answer – distinct and pained. Axel, eyes still closed, fumbled for the edge of the blanket and pulled it up to his chin, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated, movements still swimming in the thick syrup of sleep.
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” he rasped, his voice full of deep suffering. “What time is it?”
“It's hugging and joy o'clock!” Jakob proclaimed.
“It's payback-for-my-sins o'clock,” Axel replied without bite but with deep exhaustion, trying to sit up. The world before him was a blur of soft color, shapeless and untrustworthy, the kind of haze that made you reach for a wall that wasn't there. He squinted, and the blur squinted back, unhelpful.
From the other end of the bed came Kevin's sleepy voice, still buried under the pillow:
“Jakob, for the love of God, leave him alone. Let the man sleep.”
Jakob froze for a moment, sheepish. His lower lip caught between his teeth. He looked from Axel to the pillow hiding Kevin and back again, clearly weighing whether he'd actually upset anyone. The silence stretched for one beat, then two – long enough for Jakob's brain to run a full diagnostic of the emotional temperature in the room. Deciding no one was truly angry, he lit up again, and within seconds had bounced out of bed and was skipping toward the door, determined to lift his boyfriends' spirits with breakfast.
“I'm going to make you such good coffee, Axel! You'll wake right up,” he announced, disappearing through the doorway. “And stop being so grumpy!”
“I'm not grumpy,” Axel muttered, feeling around the nightstand for his glasses and putting them on. The familiar weight settled on the bridge of his nose, and the cool metal tips slid into place behind his ears. The world snapped back into focus, the fuzzy watercolor shapes resolving into the familiar geography of their bedroom. Along with the clarity came the first signs of a migraine, a familiar dull pressure building behind his left eye. “It's just that... some little thief made off with my last two hours of sleep.”
Kevin finally removed the pillow from his face, sat up, and looked at Axel with the calm, untroubled gaze of his sage-green eyes. There was something monumental about Kevin in the mornings – slow-moving, patient, impossible to rush. He existed on a timescale entirely his own. He scratched his chest and declared:
“I'll go make sure he doesn't destroy the kitchen.”
Right then, a deafening crash came from the kitchen, a percussive symphony of what sounded like every pot and pan they owned colliding with the floor, followed by Jakob's spirited shout: “I'M OKAY! NOTHING'S BROKEN!” Axel winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine stake its claim a little more firmly. Kevin got up unhurriedly and, passing by, simply placed his large hand on top of Axel's head, ruffling his already sleep-messy hair. His palm was warm and dry, fingertips slightly calloused from guitar strings, and it lingered just long enough to say everything Kevin wouldn't put into words. The gesture was familiar and soothing, and Axel closed his eyes for a second, leaning into his boyfriend's touch like a large cat, a low, involuntary hum escaping his throat.
“Coffee, huh?”
“Coffee,” Kevin nodded. His low, rumbling voice wrapped around Axel like a heavy blanket, quieting even the throbbing pain in his temples for a moment. “Strong. Coming right up.”
Axel smiled faintly and nodded, watching Kevin go. He moved through the doorway with that unhurried, steady gait of his – the kind of presence that made any room feel more grounded just by being in it. Somewhere in the kitchen, something else clattered, and Jakob was belting out some tuneless, obnoxiously cheerful melody. The words were entirely made up and mostly consisted of the names of breakfast foods. Axel took a deep breath and swung his legs to the floor, wood cool against the soles of his feet. The migraine pulsed once, a reminder, but didn't sharpen. He was ready to face another day – chaotic, loud, and brimming with love.