(Good) Mornings

daydreamdelivery:

Kurama’s
awake before the first alarm goes off, both due to his early rising
habits and also to how lightly he sleeps. Human world or no, one
could never be too careful and some habits were hard to break.

So
he’s awake when the alarm goes off and he can see exactly what effect
it has on the sleeping woman beside him. Which is to say, exactly
none. She doesn’t so much as twitch, wolf ears drooped, and the soft
rise and fall of her chest against his reveals that it’s not a ruse,
but that she truly had not awoken.

With
a small bemused smile Kurama reaches over to shut the alarm off,
careful to not disturb the wolf demon as she is curled up against his
side, her cheek pressed into his chest and one leg draped over his
like he’s her personal pillow. Her arm draped across his waist tenses
briefly at his movement, holding him to her reflexively, before
relaxing when he settles in the bed again.

Giving
in, he runs a hand over her head and across fluffy soft ears and
sleep tangled hair. He takes in her sleeping face and relaxed body,
memorizing how it looks, before starting to wake her.

He
starts with a gentle shake of her shoulder and his warm voice, low
and soft, “it’s time to wake up now, Kallie.” At last she starts
to react, a vague grumbled whine in protest as she is still mostly
asleep, and she clings to him tighter, burying her face more into his
chest. Laughing lightly he shakes her again, “come now, you have
work, love.” She’s definitely waking up more, her face scrunching
up adorably at the idea of both work and waking up, only to give him
a wolf whine of protest, more like the ones she makes when mostly
awake.

He
starts to sit up, which pulls her with him as she was latched onto
him, and she has a moment where she follows before letting go when he
says, “the alarm already went off, love.” She bundles down back
on the bed, cocooning herself further in the blankets, and a sleepy
mumble emerges to ask “time?”

Kurama
has a choice now. He can tell her the actual time, or he can imply
it’s later than it actually is. His eyes flicker to the clock and in
the interest of learning what she normally does, since he hasn’t seen
it before, he tells the truth. “Seven.”

“Whaat?”
Comes the surprised sleepy grumble, “no way. Too early. Sleep now.”
And then she punctuates her statement by pulling the comforter over
her head to block out his voice and the light filtering in through
the windows.

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