Hajime no Insho
sho yonjuichi.
Takanori always loved when he could start his mornings like this. Akira’s long fingers were brushing his hair back, fingertips ever so lightly grazing his skin, and the blond was humming softly, his lips occasionally pressing soft kisses to Takanori’s forehead or his cheeks or his lips. And once Takanori stirred a little and opened his eyes just slightly, he was greeted by a smile and a soft kiss, and he was sure that he was waking up in heaven.
The light reflected around Akira’s seemingly golden hair like a halo, and there was more love and adoration in his eyes than Takanori had ever seen. He smiled, still hazy from sleep, and yawned just slightly, stretching upward to give Akira a kiss of his own.
“Good morning to you, too.” A soft chuckle met his ears, and he smiled in response, muttering for the blond to just shut up and kiss him again, and he found that he was incredibly content when Akira chuckled softly and obliged. “Sleep well?”
“I was next to you, wasn’t I?” He smiled, chuckling softly, settling closer as Akira’s arms wrapped around him, letting his own arms slip around the bassist’s neck, his fingers slipping through sleep-tousled hair in an almost teasing manner. “Besides.” There was a chuckle, and then he pressed a kiss to Akira’s usually covered nose, smiling. “I believe it was three years ago today that a certain stuttering someone first told me he loved me.”
Akira grinned. “Oh yeah?”
The singer nodded, and he smiled, brushing at Akira’s cheek.
And the bassist’s voice fell to a whisper, a breath against Takanori’s lips. “Happy third anniversary.”
Takanori snickered, and he smiled the infamous smirk-smile he’d trademarked years before. “Who said it was you? Kouyou beat you to it by about five minutes, genius.” Akira wore an expression of mock horror, and Takanori chuckled, letting the palm of his hand rest on the side of the bassist’s neck. “I’ve only been with you all this time because I’d hate for Kouyou to have to break Yuu’s heart.” His voice was soft despite his teasing, and he smiled.
Akira’s expression shifted from horror to what it had been before, his eyes aglow with adoration and his mouth spread wide in a grin. He let a hand reach up and brush Takanori’s cheek. “For Yuu’s sake, then.”
Takanori smiled softly, and he let out a soft sigh as their lips met again. In his world, there was nothing that could best kissing Akira like this, the contact warm and tender and loving all-around. Absolutely nothing could beat the way he fit perfectly against the blond, and there was nothing like the way Akira smiled at him when the kiss was broken and whispered an ‘I love you’ to him, and there was no word in existence for the way he felt each time he said “I love you” back; he was the only one that could.
“Takanori?”
Dark brown eyes met amber ones, and the contact lasted mere moments; Takanori’s preferred response was a kiss to Akira’s lips, but he’d at least acknowledged that he’d heard Akira murmur his name.
“Did you have any ideas for today?”
Takanori shook his head, smiling a little, settling for softly kissing the blond’s chin, along his jaw, and down the side of his neck.
“So as long as it’s you and me, you’re incredibly impartial when it comes to what we can do?”
The singer looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “As long as it doesn’t get us jailed or killed in an alley, I don’t care what we do. I just want to be with you.” He pressed a kiss to the blond’s Adam’s apple, smiling against his skin, and then looked up at him. “You’re not going to get us jailed or killed, right?” The eyebrow was raised again, and it only seemed more inquisitive as Akira’s hand lifted and brushed through the singer’s hair, pausing at his neck and then slipping upward to rest against his cheek.
“Of course not.” His thumb brushed over Takanori’s skin, and he smiled. “Unless you’re suddenly Kouyou and get off on being handcuffed and shoved into police cars.” He chuckled, and Takanori snickered, turning his head to kiss Akira’s wrist and then resting his gaze upon the blond once more. “Three years with you already.” He sighed a little, and Takanori could see a very familiar gleam in his eyes. “I love you, ‘nori.”
Takanori smiled, and it was the gentlest curve of his lips that Akira had seen in a while. His thumb lightly brushed over it, and Takanori grinned and kissed the pad of it, lightly wrapping his hand around the blond’s wrist, gently rubbing his skin. “I love you too, ‘kira.” He shifted so that he was sitting beside the blond, the sheet sliding down his chest, and he leaned down to kiss the bassist’s mouth, their hands twining together as they kissed. “I love you so much.” His voice was a whisper, a breath against Akira’s mouth, but he knew that the blond had heard him.
They kissed for a few moments that could have slipped on forever, and then Takanori drew back, and he smiled, and he chuckled a little as Akira said, “Go get dressed.” And Akira watched him as he slipped out of bed, his pale torso a strong contrast to the dark night pants at his waist, and Akira thought that the singer’s mussed yellow hair made him look even more like an angel than he had before it had been dyed.
Takanori was humming to himself as he rummaged through his dresser, and as he picked up shirts and considered them, Akira could see his brow furrow and his mouth purse, and he laughed softly to himself each time the singer set one down, amused as always by his boyfriend’s indecisiveness. He stretched a little on the bed, resting his head back on his folded hands, and watched as Takanori put on a lavender button-down shirt and fussed with the buttons, smiling up at him every so often as he did so.
The way they could be so relaxed around each other was perfect and astounding at the same time, and it was something that reaffirmed Akira’s belief that their relationship, their world, was absolutely perfect. There was an aura of ease about them every time they were together, and Takanori was still just as incredible as he had been on day one, if not more so by now.
He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Takanori’s attempts to control his hair, and he gladly sat up to meet him when he returned to the bed, meeting him halfway for a kiss and ruffling his hair just a little when they pulled away. He flashed his classic smile as he was glared at and the recipient of a few playful, albeit convincing, complaints. “You’re beautiful, by the way,” he said, and Takanori was smiling once more. “But sadly, no matter how beautiful you are, public standards still require you to wear actual pants when out in certain places.”
“Places with no taste, obviously,” Takanori snorted, but he began the process of removing his night pants anyway, and as the pants dropped to his ankles, Akira took a moment to take in how perplexingly gorgeous Takanori really was when he was like this; hair half-brushed, in a button-down shirt and boxers, the sunlight absolutely dancing on his bared skin. “But since we don’t technically know where we’re going-“
“I never said that,” Akira interrupted slyly. “I only asked if you weren’t picky about where we went. Doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan.”
Takanori smiled, in the middle of buttoning and zipping a pair of simple black slacks. “You always have a plan, though.”
“Of course I do. One of us has to, hm?”
The singer gave another smile. “And trust me, love.” He paused for a moment, making sure his belt slid through all of the loops, and then he looked back up at the blond as he fastened it around his waist. “It is one of many things on an endless list of what I love about you.” He picked up a brush, and he smiled and tilted his head up for a kiss when the blond rose from the bed and decided to get dressed, and then he began working at fixing what Akira had made worse.
And secretly, he allowed himself to watch as Akira ran his hands through his hair, letting his gaze trail over the sculpted arms and the toned back and then back again as Akira turned and smiled, and he felt a chill pass through him. Akira was so incredibly gorgeous, and after three years of spending mornings with him like this,Takanori was only just beginning to understand how much.
The light reflected around Akira’s seemingly golden hair like a halo, and there was more love and adoration in his eyes than Takanori had ever seen. He smiled, still hazy from sleep, and yawned just slightly, stretching upward to give Akira a kiss of his own.
“Good morning to you, too.” A soft chuckle met his ears, and he smiled in response, muttering for the blond to just shut up and kiss him again, and he found that he was incredibly content when Akira chuckled softly and obliged. “Sleep well?”
“I was next to you, wasn’t I?” He smiled, chuckling softly, settling closer as Akira’s arms wrapped around him, letting his own arms slip around the bassist’s neck, his fingers slipping through sleep-tousled hair in an almost teasing manner. “Besides.” There was a chuckle, and then he pressed a kiss to Akira’s usually covered nose, smiling. “I believe it was three years ago today that a certain stuttering someone first told me he loved me.”
Akira grinned. “Oh yeah?”
The singer nodded, and he smiled, brushing at Akira’s cheek.
And the bassist’s voice fell to a whisper, a breath against Takanori’s lips. “Happy third anniversary.”
Takanori snickered, and he smiled the infamous smirk-smile he’d trademarked years before. “Who said it was you? Kouyou beat you to it by about five minutes, genius.” Akira wore an expression of mock horror, and Takanori chuckled, letting the palm of his hand rest on the side of the bassist’s neck. “I’ve only been with you all this time because I’d hate for Kouyou to have to break Yuu’s heart.” His voice was soft despite his teasing, and he smiled.
Akira’s expression shifted from horror to what it had been before, his eyes aglow with adoration and his mouth spread wide in a grin. He let a hand reach up and brush Takanori’s cheek. “For Yuu’s sake, then.”
Takanori smiled softly, and he let out a soft sigh as their lips met again. In his world, there was nothing that could best kissing Akira like this, the contact warm and tender and loving all-around. Absolutely nothing could beat the way he fit perfectly against the blond, and there was nothing like the way Akira smiled at him when the kiss was broken and whispered an ‘I love you’ to him, and there was no word in existence for the way he felt each time he said “I love you” back; he was the only one that could.
“Takanori?”
Dark brown eyes met amber ones, and the contact lasted mere moments; Takanori’s preferred response was a kiss to Akira’s lips, but he’d at least acknowledged that he’d heard Akira murmur his name.
“Did you have any ideas for today?”
Takanori shook his head, smiling a little, settling for softly kissing the blond’s chin, along his jaw, and down the side of his neck.
“So as long as it’s you and me, you’re incredibly impartial when it comes to what we can do?”
The singer looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “As long as it doesn’t get us jailed or killed in an alley, I don’t care what we do. I just want to be with you.” He pressed a kiss to the blond’s Adam’s apple, smiling against his skin, and then looked up at him. “You’re not going to get us jailed or killed, right?” The eyebrow was raised again, and it only seemed more inquisitive as Akira’s hand lifted and brushed through the singer’s hair, pausing at his neck and then slipping upward to rest against his cheek.
“Of course not.” His thumb brushed over Takanori’s skin, and he smiled. “Unless you’re suddenly Kouyou and get off on being handcuffed and shoved into police cars.” He chuckled, and Takanori snickered, turning his head to kiss Akira’s wrist and then resting his gaze upon the blond once more. “Three years with you already.” He sighed a little, and Takanori could see a very familiar gleam in his eyes. “I love you, ‘nori.”
Takanori smiled, and it was the gentlest curve of his lips that Akira had seen in a while. His thumb lightly brushed over it, and Takanori grinned and kissed the pad of it, lightly wrapping his hand around the blond’s wrist, gently rubbing his skin. “I love you too, ‘kira.” He shifted so that he was sitting beside the blond, the sheet sliding down his chest, and he leaned down to kiss the bassist’s mouth, their hands twining together as they kissed. “I love you so much.” His voice was a whisper, a breath against Akira’s mouth, but he knew that the blond had heard him.
They kissed for a few moments that could have slipped on forever, and then Takanori drew back, and he smiled, and he chuckled a little as Akira said, “Go get dressed.” And Akira watched him as he slipped out of bed, his pale torso a strong contrast to the dark night pants at his waist, and Akira thought that the singer’s mussed yellow hair made him look even more like an angel than he had before it had been dyed.
Takanori was humming to himself as he rummaged through his dresser, and as he picked up shirts and considered them, Akira could see his brow furrow and his mouth purse, and he laughed softly to himself each time the singer set one down, amused as always by his boyfriend’s indecisiveness. He stretched a little on the bed, resting his head back on his folded hands, and watched as Takanori put on a lavender button-down shirt and fussed with the buttons, smiling up at him every so often as he did so.
The way they could be so relaxed around each other was perfect and astounding at the same time, and it was something that reaffirmed Akira’s belief that their relationship, their world, was absolutely perfect. There was an aura of ease about them every time they were together, and Takanori was still just as incredible as he had been on day one, if not more so by now.
He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Takanori’s attempts to control his hair, and he gladly sat up to meet him when he returned to the bed, meeting him halfway for a kiss and ruffling his hair just a little when they pulled away. He flashed his classic smile as he was glared at and the recipient of a few playful, albeit convincing, complaints. “You’re beautiful, by the way,” he said, and Takanori was smiling once more. “But sadly, no matter how beautiful you are, public standards still require you to wear actual pants when out in certain places.”
“Places with no taste, obviously,” Takanori snorted, but he began the process of removing his night pants anyway, and as the pants dropped to his ankles, Akira took a moment to take in how perplexingly gorgeous Takanori really was when he was like this; hair half-brushed, in a button-down shirt and boxers, the sunlight absolutely dancing on his bared skin. “But since we don’t technically know where we’re going-“
“I never said that,” Akira interrupted slyly. “I only asked if you weren’t picky about where we went. Doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan.”
Takanori smiled, in the middle of buttoning and zipping a pair of simple black slacks. “You always have a plan, though.”
“Of course I do. One of us has to, hm?”
The singer gave another smile. “And trust me, love.” He paused for a moment, making sure his belt slid through all of the loops, and then he looked back up at the blond as he fastened it around his waist. “It is one of many things on an endless list of what I love about you.” He picked up a brush, and he smiled and tilted his head up for a kiss when the blond rose from the bed and decided to get dressed, and then he began working at fixing what Akira had made worse.
And secretly, he allowed himself to watch as Akira ran his hands through his hair, letting his gaze trail over the sculpted arms and the toned back and then back again as Akira turned and smiled, and he felt a chill pass through him. Akira was so incredibly gorgeous, and after three years of spending mornings with him like this,Takanori was only just beginning to understand how much.