you notice something is off the moment you reach for the plate.
your brows knit together as you stare at the counter, eyes scanning the breakfast you just made. something is . . missing. something that was definitely there just a moment ago.
before you can dwell on it, a familiar warmth presses into your back, arms lazily circling your waist. a heavy sigh ghosts over your shoulder, nagumo buries his face into your neck, completely melting against you like heâs still half-asleep.
âmmm,â he hums, voice thick with sleep, âsmells delicious.â
you scoff, flipping the toast in the pan. âyou mean breakfast or me?â
he laughs softly, the sound low and lazy. âboth. but mostly you.â
his grip tightens for a second, fingers squeezing at your sides, like heâs making sure youâre really there. heâs warm, too warm, and clearly has no intention of letting go. you try to shift, but he follows, clinging like some oversized koala.
ânagumo,â you sigh, âif youâre not gonna help, at least let me move.â
âhmm . . nope.â his voice is muffled against your skin, lips brushing just beneath your ear. âtoo much effort.â
you roll your eyes but let him stay, focusing back on breakfast. the kitchen is quiet except for the occasional sizzle of the pan, nagumoâs slow breathing, and the way he occasionally nuzzles closer, completely unbothered.
itâs peaceful. warm. the kind of slow morning you wouldnât trade for anything.
until you glance at the counter again.
âhm?â too casual. too innocent.
you frown. âthere were three slices of toast.â
he doesnât move. doesnât even flinch. just stays molded against you, suspiciously still.
slowly, you twist in his arms, and there it is; the faintest twitch of his lips, the barely restrained amusement dancing in his half-lidded eyes.
he only grins. doesnât say a word. just leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling away entirely, stretching like he hasnât just committed breakfast theft.
âanyway,â he drawls, already heading for the table, âiâm starving. letâs eat.â
you stare at him, deadpan.
he doesnât look back, but the way his shoulders shake tells you everything. bastardâs laughing. and heâs never going to admit it.
but the missing toast? yeah. you already know exactly where it went.
