A/N: Hey everyone! So I know it's not February, but it was when I was posting these on AO3! I think I'm going to put one ficlet up a day, but unlike AO3 where they're separate works, I'm just going to stick them all in one work as different chapters. They're all semi-related, in that they take place theoretically in the same universe I'm actually using for something else, but they don't necessarily require knowledge of each other. Some of these will reference WW84, so if you haven't seen that, fair warning. Also, I have next to no knowledge of the comics or like anything in the DC universe other than the Jenkins movies. Final point: these are set in/around the year 2017. With that said, enjoy!
There were a few different scenarios that Steve found pleasant to wake up to, all of which involved a certain Amazonian princess.
Most days she was up before him, a few thousand years of habit taking longer than a single century to break. Some days, schedule allowing, she would stay in bed as the sun crept up, waiting for him to rejoin the world. When she had meetings stacked throughout the day, or an inter-timezone conference call, or wanted to go for a run, or any other Diana based reason to slip out before he could be roused, she'd taken to leaving his preferred mug on the counter next to the coffee maker, her own used one abandoned in the sink.
On the too late nights or too early mornings when Wonder Woman was needed, she would gently shake his shoulder and whisper into his ear where she was going, and he would drag himself up to help her get dressed and see her to the balcony she tended to exit from on such occasions, watching the skyline until he could no longer convince himself he could still see her in the distance.
There were mornings of heated passion, mornings of lazy conversations, and mornings of peaceful contented dozing. Mornings full of wide smiles and soft looks and tender kisses.
And then there were mornings such as this one. Uncommon in that Steve awoke first, and rare in that Diana had nowhere else she had to be.
For a moment, he remained where he was, sprawled out on his back with Diana half on top of him, her head on his shoulder, one leg thrown across his. When her breathing remained even, undisturbed despite the change in his, he smiled a little to himself. She'd had a long week, both the Louvre and the city offering up a touch more chaos than they normally did, and she had given them her all, same as always.
If you asked him, she deserved a little bit of that effort returned. A lot, really, but opportunities had to be taken as they presented themselves.
He carefully shook loose their joined hands, slowly twisting himself up to reclaim his trapped arm without waking her. He slid out from under the sheets, lingering long enough to ensure she slept on before stepping silently out of their room, his endgame - the kitchen - already within his sights.
The shock of a weight bouncing, flopping, or plopping (and, really, any of them could apply here, especially in her barely awake state) onto the bed had Diana snapping her eyes open, complaint dying out before it could fully form when a warm body scooted up behind her. She rolled her eyes, turning until they were nose to nose, groggy brown eyes meeting shining blue.
"Hey," Steve said with a smile, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.
"Hi," she smiled back, shifting closer until their foreheads could touch, her fingers finding their way into his hair.
Their lips met, and the tray of eggs and roses sat forgotten on the nightstand.