The most ungodly shriek Len had ever heard filled his ears. Not at all out-of-place or unfamiliar: rather, it was the shrill scream of his alarm, signaling the arrival of 7 AM and the necessity of getting out of bed. Which just made the noise all the more ungodly.
He made the best attempt at stretching he could make while still on his side and groaned. Wednesday. It was Wednesday. Just two more days until he could sleep in to his heart's content. Too tired to even fantasize about the far-off Saturday, he blankly stared at the window. The early morning sun streamed through the blinds, most of the rays going directly over him; his eyes wearily followed them as he rolled onto his back, then his other side.
To his right, he was met with a face full of flaxen hair, tangled and glowing in the sunshine it had captured.
Suddenly, Len felt a little less tired.
But lazy as ever, he allowed his gaze to linger, following the wavy locks, admiring the rising and falling of the shoulders they fell just above, taking in the full beauty of the figure sleeping beside him (who had hogged the blanket at some point and was now cozily wrapped within it).
Len was what he liked to call "Really Freaking Lucky". This was the sight he got to wake up to every morning. And every morning, it left him speechless, a little bit breathless. Messy hair, oversized and wrinkled nightclothes, oftentimes a small puddle of drool on the pillow… Alright, a sleeping beauty Oliver was not. But he looked so damn peaceful that Len couldn't bring himself to care. And he almost couldn't bring himself to wake his lovely koibito from his slumber.
"Ollie." Closing the distance that had come between them in their sleep, Len pulled himself against the other's back, burying his nose into that fluffy mess of hair. Gingerbread and vanilla filled his nostrils and washed over him and tempted him with just a few more minutes of rest. "Ollie-kun. C'mon. Time to get up."
Oliver barely even stirred, just groaned and muttered something in English that Len could only assume was a protest.
"No, you don't have a say in it."
"Don't 'Guwhuuuuuuh ' at me."
So Oliver complied; he shut his mouth and silently took Len's hands, twining their fingers together and bringing them to his chest, and twisted nearly onto his stomach, trapping Len into an embrace against his back.
And then gave one final "Guh." for good measure.
Sometimes, Len felt less like an equal partner and more like a disgruntled parent.
But Oliver was so warm, his clothes and skin so soft, his wintry shampoo so soothing on the senses. His breath was deep and even, suggesting that he'd fallen asleep once more. And his hold on Len's hands, even in that sleep, was unrelenting. Firm. Sleepy…
What little energy he'd amassed since waking up was no match for such a masterful manipulation. Len's eyes fluttered shut as he gave himself up completely.
Wednesday. Close enough to Saturday. Sleeping in a little bit wouldn't hurt.
Hello! I'm peaches2217. I'm mostly active through Ao3, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to publish my stories here to my old FF account as well. I've got a lot of stuff to transfer, so some of it might be a bit wonky. I'm gonna focus on getting it up and then making sure it's polished after that. Thank you for your patience, and welcome to The BananaBird Chronicles!