This is an older one again; one of the first I've written! Either way, I hope your November starts out good! Happy Friday!
Lazy Kisses
The coffee machine gurgled loudly, sputtering in a high-pitched, groaning hiccup as it expelled brown liquid into his coffee cup.
It felt to him as if the machine had never been out of use. But there had been a film of dust on it, as well as on all his mugs, suspended as they'd been from hooks underneath his cabinets. They now all sat on a dish towel, dried next to the sink.
He'd have to give his apartment a thorough clean. To his perception, no time had passed between his death and resurrection. … Well, maybe not no time, not really. It felt like one of these vague dreams that distorted his perception of time - those where it could have been hours since he'd fallen asleep, or minutes. And just like he'd be only able to tell by the color of the sky and the flashing of his digital clock in these moments, the dusty film across all of his belongings was an indicator of how long he'd been dead by Galaxia's hand.
He'd spent a good portion of the week scrubbing and dusting and sweeping. But the dust was everywhere, and honestly, he had more important things to tend to and re-build and nourish than his hardwood floors.
In a way, he'd never felt more 'Endymion'. At least in regard to the mythical connotations clinging to that ancient name. Destined to eternal sleep while life continued around him.
He'd have a lot of work cut out for him getting to the bottom of these feelings, too.
Not today.
He carried his mug back through the room by its handle. In passing, he grabbed a book off his shelf, instead of all the newspapers he'd laid out on the counter to get him back up to date. The book had been a recommendation by Michiru, forever ago. Fiction. Indulgent. He'd never made time for it between his textbooks.
He'd make time for more indulgent, more joyful things in his life from now on.
And he'd start with moments like these.
Usagi was splayed across his bed on her stomach, snoring softly, barely audibly. She'd rolled onto his side of his small bed while he was gone from it, one hand hanging off the side of it, the other beneath her cheek. Naked, freckled shoulders were peeking from his covers. The sight filled him up and moved his lips into an inevitable smile.
He took a careful sip of his coffee and leaned across to put the mug on his windowsill as not to spill anything. Then he carefully climbed on top and over Usagi's sleeping form to squeeze into her vacated side instead.
When he slipped back underneath the sheets, she stirred immediately. His thighs had barely brushed her side and she was turning, fast asleep, and draping herself across him.
His smile turned wider.
He fluffed his pillow and moved it up to support the small of his back as he leaned back against his headboard, book and blonde head in his lap.
For a while he just sat there, watching the fluttering curtains scatter sunlight off her hair and his fingers card through her fringe.
She sighed softly, the golden strands shone and glittered in the light beneath his fingertips.
She had spent every night here since he'd been "back".
Today was Sunday. He wasn't planning on getting dressed today. They'd do a lot of things her way, from now on. He was determined.
Leaning down, he started peppering small, lazy kisses across her forehead, her cheekbone, her hair, her ear.
Her skin was warm and soft from sleep and smelled of home. He inhaled like a creep and pressed his lips against her eyelid. It fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes, just grunted in that cute way, and he kissed her brow, her temple, brushed up her fringe with a slow stroke of just his fingertips, and kissed her hairline.
She scrunched up her nose adorably and burrowed it further into his chest.
"Five mo min'its" she grumbled with her lips against his sternum, muddling and muffling the sound, and his smile turned even wider.
He stroked his hand back against her hair with a sigh, and after retrieving his glasses from their perch on the windowsill next to his coffee mug, flipped the book open to the first page with his free hand, the other firmly burrowed in her hair.
She could have all the minutes that she wanted. He wasn't planning on moving out of this bed anytime soon.
Obvious Setting Tag: Post-Stars