morning dew
⎯⎯ ✦ synopsis: the early hours of the day were never your domain. they are, however, his. and now, through time and something else, they’re slowly becoming yours too.
✦ featuring: itoshi sae x fem!reader ✦ content: sfw, established relationship, INCREDIBLY!!! self-indulgent/selfship coded (minor physical descriptions and vague personality traits mentioned) ✦ word count: 3.2k ✦ authors notes: not. a. single. word. from. anyone.
The light of the blue morning seeps in through the window, startling your body awake.
You mewl into the pillow, body curling inwards towards your only source of warmth. Sae ruffles the sheets in turn, his body responding to yours in sync, wrapping around you underneath the coolness of the blankets.
He hasn’t opened his eyes yet. Doesn’t really need to, though. He could find you by touch or sound or smell alone.
"S'too cold...," you whine into his neck, nose pressing itself into the crook of his shoulder as you clutch your arms tighter around you, trying to keep the bites of frost at bay.
"Mmm...," Sae breathes into your hair, auburn strands melting into yours. “You’re the one who keeps turning down the ac before bed…”
You huff and only nuzzle closer, all but melting into him and he feels himself at rest.
(at peace)
"We need to get up soon anyway,” his body, knowing the time through routine — unlike yours — feels the ticking of the day start and he starts to shift closer to the edge of the bed.
"No," you declare, burying yourself impossibly further into his chest, legs curling and pressing themselves to the back of his calves. He lets out a small hiss when you do, but only moves to pull you closer after a moment of adjustment, forearms caging you into him.
He indulges you quite often, not a vice nor a weakness. But something else, something in between your sighs and your fingertips, that he hasn’t quite caught yet.
Eyes still shut, his lips trail across your forehead by memory, knowing where to start and where to end. Where to continue with the practice of a thousand lifetimes. The room holds its breath in a sigh, almost kind in its slow stretch of dawn.
Sae finally opens his eyes, searching for yours, knowing they wouldn’t be open to meet him yet — he seeks them out anyway. His gaze glides over your hair, spooled across the pillow. Your arms, tucked inside the cavity of his chest. Your breath, puffing slowly into the air in tandem with his heart. The purse of your mouth, there even in your sleep-filled trance, snags his attention, and the tips of his lips curl just a bit.
In this state, you look like nothing more than a defenseless little thing, fur fluffed and eyes shut tight to ward off the rest of the world.
“I know you’re thinking of something mean right now. Stop it,” you grumble. Actions unbefitting of your words as you shuffle and twist until you and him are one. Arms looped tightly around his waist, you pull him closer. If you couldn’t physically bury yourself into his skin, you’d make damn sure you’d get as close to it as possible.
“I haven’t even said anything yet,” lips still twitching as he moves his arm from out of your grasp, ignoring your weak protests, to reach for the blanket and pulling it up. He tucks it around you again, folding in the corners with a care he’d learned when he became an older brother.
(and then relearned when he met you)
“Didn’t need to,” words lacking any real bite as you happily sigh, shimmying further under the covers, going so low as to where only your eyelids and the tip of your nose can be seen.
Sae knows he has to get up soon, his morning run waits for him on the sidewalk — patiently and inevitably. But, strangely enough, he can’t make himself leave the curl of your embrace. Enticingly soft and warm, meant to be basked in.
“A dangerous little thing,” he muses as he breathes in your scent, a combination of pomegranate and roses, overflowing from your late-night shower. It’s seeped into the bed like honey into a comb, invades his being like the call of a siren, lulling him to stay.
“Dangerous indeed,” he thinks with a flutter of his lashes, sinking into it.
(into you)
The sound of your breathing lulls him to the brink of sleep again, head shifting to warmer things than the cold surrounding your shared cocoon —
Until the sound of his alarm goes off.
You groan comedically, and Sae can’t help the huff of amusement that escapes him.
“No,” you bite out as he moves to get up. Arm latching onto his, curling it to your chest. “You’re not allowed to leave me.” Indignantly, you rub your face against it, hoping it’ll convince him to come back to you.
“You’re going to complain about being hungry soon,” he says with a press of his lips against the apple of your cheek, the other smushed against the arm he let you clutch.
“I don’t complain,” you peek out from where you were rubbing your nose into the fabric of his shirt, your glare finding him in all your — albeit weak — intimidation.
It’s cute, Sae thinks, the way your words and your actions contradict themselves. Endearing even, as you can never help it, no matter how hard you try to hide.
He meets your glare, pleading with his own, and feels his stubborn chest loosen. Maybe from the tenseness of the upcoming day, maybe from leaving you even for a moment.
He relents.
"Mmm...," humming, he settles back down in your arms, "five more minutes."
(he knows that you'll need anywhere from five more minutes to thirty, at least.)
You let out a satisfied sound, pushing your legs even further between his. They've warmed up quite a bit by now, but you have no intention of moving them anywhere. And he has no intention of letting you.
-
"I'm getting up now," Sae says with finality — for the tenth time.
(his resolve quivers again when you blearily blink up at him, mouth falling into a small pout.)
"No, you're not," huffing, you try your best to weigh him down with your body over his.
"Is 'no' the only word you can say today," countering — not a question but a statement — as he gently tugs himself away from your hold. His body immediately feels colder. And not because of the frigid air.
You grumble and watch him walk into the bathroom, the light he turns on an annoying sting against your pride, your loss of getting him to stay a bitter defeat. Hiding underneath the covers in retaliation, you listen to him. You can't see him, not with your eyes, but you know exactly what he's doing. The way he brushes his teeth first. The way he moves his bangs back with the water he splashes on his face. The way he puts on his set of bracelets, matching with yours, before anything else. You know it all by sound. It soothes you into a daze, hearing him in the darkness of the covers.
Turning off the light, Sae walks back through the door and moves to kneel at the edge of the bed. Fingers brushing the wisps of hair peeking out from beneath the blankets, he searches until he finds the top of your head.
You make a small sound and nuzzle into it, and he smiles, hidden from view.
His hand drifts down to stroke the curve of your cheek, your face finally open for him to see as the sheets fall in their defenses. "I'll be back soon."
You blink at him, your face still draped with sleep, but your eyes have become clear as you gaze back at him. Taking him in. Tears line your lashes and you sniff; the sudden change of brightness irritating your eyes, causing them to water.
He watches you in turn, unbearably soft and feels his heart squeeze. Catches the first and last drops of dew on his fingertips before they can streak your face.
The pout still clings to your lips, and he kisses you. You taste like honeysuckle nectar — he goes in for another sip. You lean into his lips by instinct, your mouth thrumming awake. The first breath of the morning fills both your lungs.
You whine when he finally pulls away, lips chasing, but even then, he leaves soft pecks as he goes, placating.
“I’ll be back in a little bit. And then we can have breakfast,” he says before standing up, turning to leave, but a tug makes him pause.
You open your mouth. And then close it. The words don't come out, leashed by the inevitable fading of sleep. The blanket of it no longer secure enough for you to say what you want.
“… come back soon,” you mumble instead, quietly. Your eyes drift away, and you suddenly feel shy. Like you’re barren beneath the light shining through ocean glass.
(he hears your words anyway)
"... I will." He suddenly pinches your nose, and you gripe in protest, "but you better be awake and out of bed by then." Sae huffs before leaving you in bed, the sight of your indignant face and the sound of your grumbles behind him a fond tape for him to replay for his run.
(he thinks he'll take the shorter route today)
-
"You're still in bed," Sae deadpans, watching you innocently blink at him from underneath the blanket thrown over your head. A makeshift shield — against him or the cold.
Maybe both.
"I'm up, aren't I?" You chirp from your comfy — warm — spot on the bed.
(you think you'd quite like to stay here, yes.)
Sae stares at you unimpressed. You just grin coyly.
(you had made the stellar move of wrapping yourself so tightly in bankets that it would take him a while to untangle you.
the perfect opening to drag him back to bed.)
He steps forward, and your cheshire grin grows a little wider — not going unnoticed by him — and he narrows his eyes. But, before you can blink, he effortlessly scoops you up, blankets and all, in his arms, ripping you away from your haven.
"S-sae!" You squeak, the abrupt change making you dizzy.
(your new haven making you flush; dizziness worsened)
He wordlessly marches to the bathroom and gently places you on the counter, tugging the sheets off your head and body. Looking at your face and the warmth of your cheeks makes him want to bite them.
Instead, he hands you your toothbrush. "Brush," he orders.
You squint at it, the taste of leftover toothpaste in your mouth a nasty wall.
"Or I could just brush for you..." he drawls, moving to reach for the tube.
"N-no, I got it," you protest, snatching it from his hands. You huff as you hop down and turn towards the sink, cheeks still warm as you stubbornly keep your eyes from meeting his through the mirror.
Sae leans against the wall and crosses his arms, taking you in through the reflection. The way your shirt slides over your shoulder — one of his — revealing a corner of you. It makes him want to trace his hand over it. Skim his fingertips along the skin until they know its dips and ridges like the way one knows the slope of their own hands.
Like he knows the way yours have a mole in the corner of your palm and your wrist.
The way he knows how his face shifts when you smile at him. And the way your face shifts when you're trying to remember something.
The face you're making right now, in fact. Your eyes stare at him through the glass, not at him, but rather at where he stands.
"Here," he murmurs, handing you the face towel. You smile in thanks, sleep still clinging to your face like a child's blanket.
And that, the soft affection glittering in your eyes like pools of gold, is what makes him finally break and move to wrap his arms around you. They were empty for far too long without their keeper.
(the urge to hold you by his discretion, teething at his hands the entire time during his run.
it made him take three steps more every time his foot hit the ground.)
You sigh at the contact — like this, you forget to be irritated at him, your earlier gripe seeping away from your muscles. It's hard to hold onto for too long when he gets like this. Like he can’t bear to let you go once he has you in his arms.
"Breakfast?" You turn your head to the side, catching his bangs with the curl of your hand, gently sifting your fingers through them.
"... in a second," Sae says as he tightens his arms around you and finds his nose running alongside your jaw.
You giggle at the change in roles, not unexpected, but amusing nonetheless. "Alright, five more minutes," you tease, hand cupping the side of his face and angling his all too willing lips over to yours.
-
Sae watches you swing your feet on your spot from the counter. Wrapped up in a blue star-speckled blanket — one that you insisted on bringing from your bedroom — and debating whether he needs whipped cream or not.
He remembers the first time he made you breakfast. Something simple, eggs and toast with orange juice, which was all he could make himself at the time, and the way your face flickered for a brief second before eating it with gusto.
He had let it go at first. Until you insisted on making breakfast instead whenever you saw him reach for the carton of eggs, pattering over to his side and tugging it away from his grasp with a sweet smile.
It took him a bit to pull it out of you, but you'd finally caved after days of making you the same breakfast. He'd been nice enough to try out making different things too, grilled fish, miso soup, cereal even, and so on. Your nose always twitched whenever the meal had eggs involved, but he wanted to be sure, so —
"... alright! I hate eggs, okay!?" Finally relenting with a pitiful groan after the seventh day of omelets, a staring contest between the plate and him ending in your defeat as he watched you expectantly.
"Why didn't you just say that?" He’d asked with a raised brow. So he was correct, obviously, but being right wasn’t why he'd started this little experiment.
You had slouched in your chair and crossed your arms. "... you went out of your way to make them for me... and I didn't want you to think I didn't appreciate it..." You chewed on your lip and looked up at him, unwarranted guilt swimming in your eyes.
He sighed through his nose and turned the chair towards him, ignoring your yelp. Leaning in close and staying face-to-face, making sure you could see what he was about to say.
"It doesn't mean anything to me if you don't actually like it,” he stated, staring at you, making sure you heard what he was saying.
"..." Your eyes moved away again, mouth thinned, the gaze holding you in place too taut for you to keep looking, but he grabbed your chin, turning your face back to him.
"Next time, just tell me what you want. Okay?"
"... okay."
And now here he is, making chocolate chip pancakes. A treat he usually reserved for his cheat days, and even then, only to share with you. But the way you'd tugged at his shirt and gazed at him when he'd asked what you wanted to eat, a sheepish smile on your face — a feeble effort to try and say what you want, expecting it to fail anyway — made him grab the mix box from the cabinet while you were busy hopping on the counter.
(you don't want things. or rather, you don’t let yourself want. it had taken you a ridiculous amount of time just to ask him for a kiss; in the beginning.
and he noticed. watched the way you sealed away your desires the second you realized you had them and opened your mouth to voice them. tucking them away from sight.
but he saw them. saw you.
and he eased them out of you, catching the bits and pieces before you shoved them into a chest and locked them away. inching the rope out slowly, tugging them free.)
You sit and watch him make your favorite breakfast. Watch him hesitate to add a few more chips before glancing over his shoulder, and grabbing a handful anyway. You watch the way he moves, practiced and sure and steady. And the things in between that, the hesitation and thoughts, and the twitch of a finger or two.
The kitchen lights were off, sunlight from the windows more than enough for your eyes to see. The beams shone through, collecting dust in their wake. They dance along his back as he moves from one spot to another, flipping the pan and cutting the strawberries. The pancakes were lopsided, and the strawberries were cut unevenly; you could tell from your perch. And yet, you would've eaten them even if they were burnt or cut into itty-bitty pieces.
He was plating them when you finally mustered up the courage to let the words out against the picture of his back. A loophole, but you think you deserve credit for it anyway.
"Sae? Can you come here?" Asked like a question — hoping — even when you should know by now that he will always come at your call.
Sae takes his time, moves to grab a towel and wipe his hands first. And then he places them beside your hips, trapping you into your counter seat.
"Hmm?" He asked, already knowing. Knowing in the way you looked at him, like he was your sun. Eyes casting him under a ray of light.
(it takes his breath away.
the sun only looks at the moon in wonder because it can't see itself.)
You grasp the sleeves of his jacket, tugging him close.
(again and again. because you let your hands do what your words cannot.)
"..."
You look up at him, longing, soft. He doesn't think he's ever seen a sight that calls to him more. One that compares to the stars.
He leans in and kisses you. Kisses you like the breath between you two is the only one you'll ever have. Hands grabbing his shoulders, you let them slide up to cradle his face. Into his hair, as he steps between your legs and lays his hands around the curve of your waist.
You pull back after a moment and gently knock against his forehead, ruby bangs hanging between your skin and his.
(you like them like this. down when at home. a sight only you get to see.
something akin to a secret for your eyes only. for you to keep.)
He leans forward again, nose brushing against yours, eyes glimmering with mirth. "Am i going to have to kiss it out of you?"
(i love you)
Your mouth waxes into a smile, brighter than stardust. "I wouldn't be opposed to it."
(i love you)
And so he does — draw those three words out of you.
(i love you)
Again and again. With each sweet press of lips to lips. With each flutter of lashes as you pull back, before diving back in for air.
(i love you)
Sae breathes those words against your lips that morning. And every morning after.
any and all likes/reblogs/replies are appreciated!!! <3
