Work Text:
Koutarou always woke up first. Ever since he was little; in his own house before his parents, at training camps before his team and rivals, and especially now, every morning when he woke up in their bed with Keiji lying next to him. It's the usual, but a pleasant surprise; sometimes Keiji might not even make it to bed before Koutarou wakes up, or even before he falls asleep. Sometimes Koutarou will find him hunched over his laptop, still on, at the kitchen table, coffee in the mug next to him a cold sludge.
Keiji is half dressed, only caring enough to remove his shirt before crawling into bed. Calloused fingertips ghost along his arm, tracing the scrawling penmarks and writings that coat Keiji's left forearm, some faded and some fresh. Keiji always had scribblings on anywhere he could reach, just like Koutarou always had paint under his nails and lead smudges on his palm. Koutarou loved it just like he loved all the other little things about Keiji and sometimes he couldn't control the soaring feeling in his chest. So he didn't, as he brought his hand up more to glide against the smooth skin of Keiji's back and nuzzled his nose into the soft hair, whispering his boyfriend's name against his temple.
Koutarou hummed happily, snuggled up to his bedmate, even though the only response he got was a light groan and a weak swat of the elbow as he shifted. Undeterred, the older male leaned forward to press a kiss on Keiji's shoulder closest to him before scooting backwards to get out of bed. Gold eyes slid over and noticed a stained mug filled with pens and pencils, none of his expensive ones, just cheap ones he found or picked up for sketching and doodling. Eyes alight, he grabbed a few and got to work.
Half an hour later, Keiji's right arm that dangled off the bed slightly was covered in blue and green inks, shapes and swirls and sweet words doodled up the length of his once bare arm. A large sun on the socket of his shoulder and spots of bright yellow, a bouquet of red hearts on the back of his hand. Satisfied, Koutarou sits back on his heels to look at the most beautiful person in the world, laying in his bed in his home, dawn light slanted through the curtains and blinds to fall across his back, face slack and cheek cutely smooshed on top of his other hand. Koutarou's heart still felt too full, wanted to turn this restless feeling into something; pulling up a chair and took out his sketchbook to capture this moment.
–
The room was too bright when Keiji woke up. He could already tell he didn't sleep for long because he was still tired, but if he was honest with himself, he was always tired. Some coffee would fix that problem and he could get up and be a productive member of society. Groaning and keeping his eyes mostly closed, he pulled himself up to sit on the bed, arm going up automatically to wipe at his face. However, the feeling felt distinctly off, and his eyes flew open to see slightly smudged pen ink all up his arm.
Face scrunched up in confusion, Keiji studied the shapes on his arm, sleep addling his brain and not having any clue how it could've gotten there, until he heard a muffled laugh. Wide eyes snapped up to see Koutarou laughing behind his hand, sitting in a chair with sketchbook in hand and a mug full of utensils on the nightstand. His shoulders were shaking with barely contained laughter as he got up to come cup Keiji's face in his hands, telling him about how he's got ink smudged on his face. Koutarou leaned in to press kisses on his cheekbones and nose, and while Keiji's skin felt hot, his expression melted from confusion into his usual vaguely irritated expression.
“I hope you had fun drawing all over me in my sleep.” Keiji drawled, voice still a bit heavy from sleep, and he can't even be mad. It was kind of endearing to be honest, even if it was messy and disorienting. Koutarou just hummed an affirmative, lips still against his cheek. Dark eyes rolled at his boyfriend, but affection leaked into his voice. “Have you even done anything else today?”
Koutarou's moves to wrap his arms around Keiji's frame and his face nuzzles into his messy hair. “I sketched alot while I waited for you to wake up.” Keiji hummed in response, resting his head against Koutarou's shoulder, the pull of sleep still strong in his mind. He was so comfortable, just sitting in bed with his boyfriend holding him.
Keiji let out another hum before speaking up, “We need to make coffee before I fall asleep again.”
Koutarou breathed deep and opened his mouth, to protest or agree, who knows, because before he could get a word out he pulled a face as a strange noise erupted from his lower torso. Keiji pulled back to stare and Koutarou pulled another face, this time sheepish.
“Have you even eaten yet?”
“Uhh, I guess I forgot!”
Keiji rolled his eyes, pushing against his boyfriend's shoulders to get him to stand up. “Idiot. It's not like it's important or anything.”
Koutarou gave easily and put his feet on the ground and turned back to grab Keiji's hand, “Hey! It's not like you're any better about this sort of thing!”
When Koutarou pulled him up, laughing, Keiji turned his head to glance at the sketchbook on the nightstand. The back of Keiji's neck felt hot, like he did every time he saw one of Koutarou's artworks that featured him; which, unsurprisingly, was a good number of them.
“Stop drawing such embarrassing pictures of me.”
Koutarou's face contorted to insulted, the slight indignant tone in his voice when he squawked, “What do you mean? It's romantic!” He threw an arm around Keiji's shoulders. “What about you, huh? Tell me some poetry, Hamingwhy.”
“It's Hemingway, Koutarou.”
“Same thing!”
Keiji rolled his eyes, a soft laugh tumbling past his lips before he bumped his hip against Koutarou's.
“You are the sun that shines bright throughout my day,
you are the gravity that holds me down in every way.
You are the moon that shimmers throughout my night,
you are stars that glimmer oh so bright.”