Laxus Dreyar was not a morning person. Or… well, that wasn't entirely true. Usually he was a morning person. It was more accurate to say that he wasn't a morning after person. A few rounds of energetic sex tended to take it out of a guy, and early mornings afterward were not his thing.

That was, until he started dating Lucy Heartfilia.

Lucy was one of those people who was obnoxiously chipper by seven a.m., and despite his best attempts, he couldn't seem to wear her out enough to keep her in bed much past that. And, tragically, she wasn't really one for morning sex until after she'd been fed.

However, he reflected, as he leaned up against the doorframe in his kitchen, there were some definite perks to dating a morning person. Namely, the sight of his girlfriend wearing his boxers and a tight t-shirt, his sound pods slipped over her ears, dancing in his kitchen at seven thirty in the morning. His hearing was sensitive enough to pick up on the fact that she was listening to one of his favorite songs, and the way the morning sun reflected in her hair and the way her hips moved as she swayed to the beat was captivating. It was all her, Lucy in her purest form, silly and sexy and free, and he loved it. The only thing that could possibly spoil this moment was—

"Oi, Lucy, you're burnin' the pancakes!"

Lucy didn't hear him at first, still drifting beneath his oversized headphones and the labyrinth of music she was lost in, but when he stepped over to the stove and pulled the pan from the heat, the clatter of metal reached her and she jumped. She didn't even look embarrassed to have been caught dancing in her— or rather his— underwear; it wasn't until she caught sight of the smoldering hunk of what used to be pancake batter lumped up in the bottom of the pan that her expression turned abashed.

"Oh no," she groaned. "I was gonna surprise you with breakfast."

Laxus raised an eyebrow. "Lucy, you can't cook for shit."

"I can make spaghetti!" she protested.

"Spaghetti isn't pancakes."

She took the pan from him, pouted adorably as she poked at the blackened lump with the spatula she had been using for air guitar purposes just moments ago. With a heavy sigh, she slid the pan into the sink and turned the water on to let it soak.

Laxus took her wrist gently and turned her around to face him, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. He reveled in the way she leaned into him, her soft body pressed up against his chest, and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her close.

"Forget pancakes. Put on some real clothes and I'll take you out for breakfast."

She tilted her head up to look at him, eyes lighting up. "Crepes?"

"Ah jeez, the crepe place again?"

"What do you have against Suzette's?" she demanded, trying to look stern but failing because there was still too much of a hopeful smile in her eyes.

"They have doilies instead of napkins," he replied shortly.

Lucy cocked her head, eyes narrowed in exaggerated faux-annoyance. "For the last time they are not doilies, they're just nice cloth napkins. And the food is good! You love their food, why are you nitpicking the napkins?"

Laxus tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. "We're going to the crepe place, aren't we?"

"Your stomach will thank me later."

And the thing was, she was probably right about that. Lucy, as a general rule, knew best.