a/n; sleepy weekend morning aesthetic is my favorite ozglyn aesthetic let's be real here lmao
It was Saturday.
It was Saturday because Ozpin's dreadfully cheery alarm tone hadn't woken her up already and because for once the sun was coming through the window instead of the dark that accompanied 5AM every other day of her week. Glynda stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, listening to Ozpin's steady breathing beside her and trying to muster the will to get out of bed. It wasn't working. If she just closed her eyes for a few more minutes maybe she'd disappear into the pile of blankets and…
A soft grumble came from the lump next to her. For a half moment she considered feigning sleep but Ozpin rolled over before she could, meeting her eyes with a bleary expression. He was still half asleep but managed to drag himself close enough to rest his head against her chest and sling an arm lazily across her waist with a quiet huff.
"Mornin'," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep. Glynda hummed in response, smoothing her palm down his bare back and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He didn't offer any other words of wisdom and after a minute or two she realized he'd just dozed off again. She rolled her eyes but couldn't shake the soft smile at the corner of her mouth. Lifting her arm she set to lazily stroking his hair as if the repetitive motion would soothe her back to sleep as well.
It worked for a little while, at least. She could just about feel that half-doze state creeping into her peripherals despite the nagging feeling that she was going to wake up well after noon if she did.
"What're you making for breakfast?" He spoke suddenly; Ozpin's eyes were still closed and his words came out as a sleep-slurred mumble. Glynda raised an eyebrow.
"It's your turn," she replied, trailing her fingers down his spine and ignoring the soft shudder it elicited from him, "But nice try." A disgruntled sound interrupted her.
"I did last weekend," he protested, reaching for her free hand and threading their fingers together. She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that was all he had to his argument. A low, amused chuckle rumbled in her chest while his thumb slowly rubbed the back of her hand.
"Buying brunch at Durango's when we're both hungover doesn't count."
Ozpin grumbled, but he knew when he was beat. He settled back against her, his lips grazing her collarbone. If she was making him get out of bed first he sure as hell was going to postpone it as long as possible. Glynda appeared to have settled enough that -if he were lucky enough- she might doze off and give him a little more time before climbing out of bed.
"So," she drawled, immediately dashing his hopes of sleeping in a little longer, "That being said, what are you making me for breakfast?" He squirmed around a bit before he propped himself up on his elbows.
"Whatever you want." Ozpin bumped his forehead against the side of her head, rubbing his nose against her cheek and kissing her quickly after. "But I'm not going to the store for anything else." She smiled, cupping each side of his face between her hands and brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones.
"That hardly counts as whatever I want," she pointed out, chuckling softly as she tilted his head to kiss him properly. Her eyes flickered to the ceiling briefly in thought. "French toast." He grinned against her mouth and nipped her lower lip before sitting up and swinging his legs out from under the sheets. The room was a good deal cooler than he had anticipated and it drew a quiet hiss of breath from him when his bare feet touched the floor. He swiped his glasses from the nightstand and picked up his scroll- two missed calls from Ironwood, which he ignored- before he finally gathered the energy to pull himself out of bed and search for something a little more cozy to put on.
It only took him a moment to grab a pair of sweatpants and hitch them up over his hips, but by the time he'd turned around again Glynda was leaning over the edge of his side of the bed and snagging the oversized hoodie he'd left on the floor the night before.
"You have a pile of those in the closet," he protested, "And it's cold."
"Put a shirt on, then." Glynda raised an eyebrow and yanked the sweatshirt over her head, smugly wrapping herself up into it and breathing in his lingering scent from the fabric. For a moment it looked like he was considering trying to wrestle her for it, but instead he turned back and pulled a different- and less cozy- hoodie out of the drawer. He crossed the room back towards the bed as he tugged it on.
"You're lucky I love you," he grumbled; it was meant to sound vaguely threatening but Ozpin could hardly keep a straight face and leaned to kiss her cheek again instead.
"You love it." She smiled and hummed softly, her fingertips stroking the curve of his jaw before he straightened and padded off down the hall. It didn't take him long to start rummaging around in the kitchen and while Glynda seriously considered going back to sleep she finally pulled herself out of bed after him.
It was Saturday.