Netto wakes up to the smell of something sweet.
His eyes slowly blink open, still heavy with sleep, but his nose scrunches at the sudden aroma. With a yawn, Netto pushes down on the mattress so he can get to his knees. The duvet slides off at the motion, and he shivers at the sudden rush of cool air that bites at his skin. Swiping his hand through his hair in a poor attempt to get it out of his face, Netto's gaze strays to his PET, which is resting innocently on the bedside table, and he grabs for it. There's no bright greeting from Rockman like there usually is; in fact, the PET screen is completely empty. Netto panics in his half-awoken state, until he hears the familiar sound of his navi's laughter from the other side of the door. He blinks, again, and slowly slides out of the bed. There's at least carpet beneath his bare feet, so he easily gets to his feet with little to no discomfort.
Netto stretches, arms reaching for the ceiling, and he winces as his joints pop noticeably. Rolling his shoulders a few times, Netto reaches for the pair of pants slung over the back of the chair near him, and quickly slips them on. The aroma is getting stronger now, and, as Netto stumbles closer to the door as he struggles to pull the trousers up, he can hear someone talking. He tugs down his shirt, which has started to ride up his back, and quickly crosses the rest of the distance to the door. With a low hum, he grasps the handle and tugs it open. The sudden change in brightness blinds him for a few seconds, and he makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. Netto lifts a hand to shield his eyes for the time being, but at least the light acts as a more severe wake-up call, and everything around him becomes distinctly clearer.
The blanket on the couch is scrunched up – obviously it hadn't been fixed before going to bed last night – and the TV is showing some kind of news station. It's quiet, he supposes, because he can barely hear it over the singing coming from the kitchen. Netto stops, lifting his face, and sniffs again. The sweet smell is still there, but it's becoming stronger. Making a short detour to the coffee table between the couch and the TV, Netto reaches down to acquire the hair tie lying next to another PET. He receives a morning greeting from Rockman, before he moves away. He ties his hair in a loose, short ponytail, and it serves as a sort of relief as his messy, wild hair is no longer tickling his face.
For a moment, Netto pauses in the doorway to the kitchen to admire the scene before him. The second man in the room clearly hasn't heard him, and Netto supposes that's because of the singing and the fact that his back is turned to him. His gaze strays to the single, tapping foot and his ears acutely tune in to the low, pleasant sound of the man's quiet singing as he stands in front of the stove, and Netto recognises the sight and finally understands the aroma to be that of pancakes. With a smile, Netto crosses the threshold to the kitchen, wraps his arms around the man's waist, and buries his face between his shoulder blades. He feels him jump slightly under his touch and hears the singing come to an abrupt stop, but then it's followed by soft laughter.
"Good morning," he greets, and Netto can hear the smile in his voice.
"Mm-hmm," is his response, because maybe he's still a little bit tired and the placement of his head on his back is really comfortable.
There's a scoff, and Netto whines as the man moves. It rapidly dies in his throat, though, as an arm wraps itself around his waist and a hand brushes up his side, making him shiver at the ticklish sensation. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah." He replies this time, at least. It's followed by him tilting his head to fit into the crook of the man's neck. "Could've been better, though." He glances up, his eyes meeting amused blue ones. "Maybe if my boyfriend had still been in bed when I woke up..."
A snort, and the flick of a wrist has the newest pancake flipping into the air before it lands back in the pan. "How dare he." How he can do that one-handed, Netto will never know. "Now come on, I need to finish this. You're very distracting."
He pouts, pushing against the man's chest. "You're so mean, Enzan."
The arm around his waist retracts, and Enzan nudges him away gently with his hip. He's smirking. "I know."
Netto sticks out his tongue, and Enzan rolls his eyes. The brunet reaches behind him, resting his hand against the kitchen counter before it's followed by his body. He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Enzan at the stove; watches as those blue eyes focus on the pan in front of him. Enzan flips it once more, apparently deems it good, and slides it onto the small pile of other pancakes that Netto had neglected to notice next to the stove. In a few swift movements, Enzan places down the pan, turns off the stove, and lifts the plate. Netto grins, pushes off the counter, and moves to his side. Enzan looks at him from the side, amusement still clear in his eyes.
"Can't you wait just a few more seconds, Netto?"
"But they're pancakes, Enzan! Pancakes!"
"I know, Netto. I made them."
In response, Netto pouts. Enzan huffs out a laugh, placing the plate on the table nearby, the sound of porcelain on wood echoing slightly in the room, before turning back to Netto. All it takes is the slight, upward tilt of a smug smile to get Netto to move. He clasps the back of Enzan's neck, taking a split second to enjoy the way that Enzan's long, low-tied black hair tickled against his knuckles, before tugging the taller man down. Enzan moves along willingly, and Netto presses his own mouth against that infuriatingly smug one. A hand then comes to rest against his lower back, whilst another moves to brush against his jaw. Netto pauses for a split second, smiles against his mouth, and one of his hands moves to tug gently at the hair tie, and then Enzan's pulling away as his hair falls over his shoulders.
Netto snickers at the unimpressed look he's given.
"You brat," Enzan says as he flicks at Netto's nose, but there's no actual heat in his tone. That, and there's a small, fond smile he has on his face as he speaks, so Netto knows he's not really that mad. "I'm supposed to have a meeting this afternoon, remember?"
"Yeah, this afternoon," Netto emphasises, waggling his brows because Enzan's argument is laughably weak.
Enzan shakes his head. He snatches the hair tie back and fixes his hair – though it does look a bit messier now. He glances over at Netto, and then he's smirking. He leans down. "You know, there's something that I need to say."
Netto blinks. "What?"
Enzan raises a brow, lifts a hand, and pokes Netto's forehead. He looks amused as he says: "Morning breath."
Netto pauses. Then his face reddens as he swats at Enzan's shoulders. "Enzan!" he whines.
In response, the man huffs out a soft laugh. Netto tries to be mad, just a small part of him, but he can't. It's honestly pathetic. Enzan looks down at him, smiles, and presses a kiss to his temple.
"Come on, breakfast's getting cold."
Netto then remembers where they are; remembers that they're currently standing in their kitchen at around nine in the morning. Those words send his heart racing. Theirs. Sure, they'd been living together for a few months now – dating even longer, but the feeling still felt fresh, just like the memory of the first time that Enzan had approached him after taking down some rogue viruses all those years ago, stumbling over his words and his face flushed as he tried to ask Netto out for coffee of all things.
"Netto."
He blinks. Enzan stares back at him, his expression a mixture of exasperation and something fond, but it's his smile that catches Netto's attention. It's a smile that had seemed so rare at first, but now Netto can't imagine anything else on his face. Of course, Enzan was still annoyingly sarcastic when he wanted to be, keeping up those infuriating smirks when Netto would fall for it, but it's this specific smile that's reserved only for Netto himself that he always thinks of. He realises that Enzan's holding out his hand, one brow raised, and huffs as he grabs it.
Netto moves past him quickly, sticking out his tongue as he hears a muffled snicker, and sits down. A hand ruffles through his hair, and Netto ducks his head as his nose scrunches up. He glares half-heartedly up at Enzan through his mop of brown hair, but the man merely shrugs and smiles innocently down at him. And Netto looks at that smile, and – as Enzan takes a seat next to him – realises that there's nowhere else he'd rather be.