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Half asleep as you roll over, you're met with the blurry sight of Barry's sleeping face. You blink until your vision clears, continuing to gaze at him as he sleeps.
In his sleep, Barry smiles faintly, and his left arm comes up to encircle your waist, pulling you closer to his warm body. Sleep is calling you again, so you press a kiss to Barry's forehead and drift off once more.
When you wake again, the light streaming in through the cracks in the blinds is brighter and you feel more awake. With the wall at your back and a sleeping Barry Allen at your front, you have no choice but to slither out from under Barry's arm and climb over him so that you can stand up and stretch. Your bare toes curl in the plush rug on the floor, and you feel satisfied as you lower your arms.
You then head into the bathroom to start your morning routine, closing the door almost all the way so as not to disturb Barry. Once done in there, you shuffle back into the bedroom and turn on the radio on the dresser, the volume low but loud enough for you to hear all the words.
With your back to the bed, you strip out of your pajamas and open the closet to grab a pair of jeans. You are unaware of Barry watching, a soft, sleep-riddled smile on his face, until he speaks.
"The only thing better than waking up to you getting dressed is waking up before you. You always look so beautiful when you're sleeping," the speedster mutters, squinting past the sunlight falling into his eyes from between the blinds.
You smile and turn toward him, zipping up and buttoning your jeans. You walk over to the bed, swooping down and pecking him on the cheek.
"You look beautiful when you're sleeping too," you reply quietly. The radio drones on in the background as you stand and head to the dresser to ransack it for one of Barry's shirts. He makes an appreciative noise as you tug it on. "What do you want for breakfast, Bear?" You ask, slightly turned so you can watch as the brunet snuggles deeper into the blankets.
"It's our day off, babe. Just get food from the bakery down the street," comes the answer, his voice sleepy and muffled from where his face is half-buried in the pillow. His eyes are closed again, his breathing beginning to even out.
“I know, but I want to cook breakfast for you. So, the usual Barry Allen special?" You ask.
By this time, Barry has rolled over so that his back is facing you. You can just see his hands clutching the empty space of pillow in front of him from where you're standing.
"Yes, please," he mumbles faintly. Before you leave the room, you stop in the doorway, smiling sweetly at the sight of the speedster curled up in a messy pile of blankets and sheets. You linger a moment or two before continuing to the kitchen to make breakfast, leaving the music to keep your love company.
In no time, the smell of bacon and pancakes being made has Barry drifting out of the bedroom. He immediately comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning into you.
He draws a deep breath in, nose buried in the hair at the nape of your neck, and exhales with a content sigh as if he had just stretched. He kisses the spot below your ear, just next to the curve of your jaw, then withdraws entirely from you slowly, claiming no rush.
The two of you are in sync after knowing each other for as long as you have, moving around the kitchen together to prepare breakfast, you cooking and Barry grabbing plates and silverware and drinks. By the time you both sit down on the couch, there is a whole buffet spread out on the coffee table and kitchen counter: pancakes, bacon, sausage, orange slices, fried eggs, juice, tea, coffee, and water.
Most of it gets eaten by Barry - his super metabolism working wonders, as usual - but you eat plenty yourself, hungry after all that time standing and smelling the food cooking in front of you. Small talk about work, coworkers, friends, and other topics float around you two as you eat, the mood serene and lazy.
Afterwards, Barry insists on cleaning everything up since you cooked. You manage, however, to bring in some empty plates before the speedster kicks you out of the kitchen with a, "I'll be done before you know it." You go with little protest, laughing at Barry's theatrics and insistence.
As you get comfy on the couch, socked feet up on the coffee table in front of you, there's a fleeting thought about the possibility of trouble arising and the Flash needing to save the city today. You don't let that thought linger though, banishing it to the very back of your mind.
You'll cross that bridge if it comes up. For now, you focus on pulling up the show you and Barry are currently watching. There's several episodes left in the latest season of your favourite show, and you've been itching to finish it all week with your favourite cuddle partner.
Just as promised, Barry is quickly at your side, cuddled close with an arm thrown over your shoulders. He smiles softly as you snuggle closer, and you press play on the remote, both of you settled in for a day of nothing but lazy day activities.