"I could kill you," It spits, "with one finger."
A chuckle eludes a pair of peach lips. Creamy, white skin around warm, honey eyes creases. He lifts himself onto his side and rests his elbow on the mattress, cradling his cheek in his palm, raising an eyebrow, and allowing a bubblegum-sweet "Really?" to dribble down his chin and seep into sloppy, white sheets, positioned loosely at his waist.
"Yes."
"Show me."
The villain hesitates, then huffs an indignant sigh and flops onto its side facing the gossamer-veiled window. "Too messy." It brings a pair of slender legs to its chest, spine arching visibly, and sniffs quietly, shoulders shooting up to its chin in a sort of makeshift wall.
"Obviously."
"Silence."
He stretches his arms behind his neck and yawns. It's only seven. Thankfully, Saturday. The sun is rising, a citrus sorbet, a golden haze across the east horizon. He grins and throws an arm over It's chest in an attempted spoon. It hisses and recoils, slapping the filthy hand away and eliciting another blissful chortle from the raven-haired boy, who then rolls onto his back and tilts his head to the side.
"Do you want breakfast?"
A concealed expression- likely one of resentment- emits a low growl, melded with a soft, scarcely discernible, "What kind?"
"I dunno. Eggs. Waffles. Do you like waffles?"
It raises a shoulder and twists its neck just slightly, so as to flash him a sideways glance from the corner of a rosy eye. "I despise them."
"How about pancakes?"
It wavers, perpetual scowl almost, almost bubbling into a subtle, tender smile. "Fine."
He beams and leans over to fuse their lips for a few peaceable moments. It blinks petulantly at first, then sighs contentedly and melts, hands fluttering delicately to the teenager's chest. He smiles into the exchange and breaks away to whisper, "Yanno, waffles and pancakes are basically the same."
"I know." It smirks and reaches up to wrap its arms around his neck, then pulls him back into the kiss.