Akaashi wakes slowly, his movements sluggish. The air is cold, seeping through the small spaces in the window frame. He blinks, once, twice, three times, then rubs at his eyes with his hands. Cold air skates down his back, skimming the bare skin where his shirt rode up somewhere in the night. He whines and pulls on one of the many blankets, tucking it behind him. The bed is not empty, and he curls closer to warm bodies, pressing his icy hands against heated skin. The body beside him tenses unconsciously, bowing away from Akaashi's cold touch. Akaashi scoots closer, a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth.
He is awake now and more than content to lay in the comfortable silence. The clock on the wall ticks with every second, one of those cat ones with terrifying eyes and a tail that swings with each tick. Akaashi hates it, but had compromised, allowing this one for his owl shaped one in the kitchen. They're both stupid and tacky, but Akaashi has no mind to get rid of either.
There's a groan from the far side of the bed, a shifting of positions, a face pressing between pillows, and then silence as they slip back into sleep.
It's only a short time before someone else wakes, eyes still half closed as they sit up and use both hands to push dark hair from their face. They shiver in the frigid air, then climb over tangled legs to stumble to the bathroom. There's a thud in the hall as they bump into a wall. They've always been clumsy, even without sleep hindering their movements. The bathroom door closes, then opens less than a minute later. There's no running into walls as they return and they stand in the doorway for a moment, lips curling in the hint of a smile when their eyes meet Akaashi's, then drift over the other two in the bed.
It's a rare smile, but it's real. It might easily be one of Akaashi's favorites, second only to when they laugh, almost silently, at silly puns or funny cat videos.
They crawl over Akaashi, and Akaashi halts their progress with a hand on their cheek. Their brows furrow in confusion; the smile disappears. Akaashi presses a quick kiss to their forehead, then gestures that they can settle beside him. The smile returns as they sink into the mattress and throw a leg over Akaashi, foregoing the pillow to lay their head on his chest. Akaashi doesn't mind.
Sleep takes them, quickly and quietly, and Akaashi delves a hand into their hair, marveling at its softness.
Akaashi daydreams, bits of memories tangling with scenarios of his imagination. They continue for nearly an hour, until someone shifts, rolls, and bops him on the nose with a finger.
They smile, warm and inviting, alert and happy despite just waking up.
"Good morning," they say, their voice not quite caught up with their attitude. It's rough and laced with sleep and they clear their throat. They run a hand through their hair. Half of it is still styled, caked in whatever product they use, though large parts of it droop from their upright position and hang across their forehead. They sit up.
"Good morning," Akaashi replies. His own voice isn't much better, caught in the ends of sleep and idle use.
"It's cold," they say, though they make no movement to wrap the blanket tighter around themselves.
Akaashi nods, but he is content now, savoring the warmth of the body atop him.
"I dreamt about you, I think," they pause for a moment, unsure, "You were like a god or maybe an alien, but you lived on Earth, with us. I don't think we knew what you were because people came to get you and we freaked out. You left with them and we were really sad. But," they tell him, gaze flitting downward to meet Akaashi's, "You came back, because you love us. You came in through the window instead of the door, though. Like, you broke it to pieces and I really don't know why." They find this funny, and muffle their laughter with a hand, well aware of the others sleeping.
It's nice.
"I've always wanted to smash through a window," Akaashi deadpans.
They drop their hand and laugh harder. Akaashi revels in the sound.
It stops abruptly when a hand gently covers their mouth. A face peeks out from between two pillows, scowling slightly.
"You're loud, Bo." they say, only half serious. They curl to rest their head on Bokuto's lap, becoming more alert with each word.
"Morning, 'Kaashi," they mumble, smiling lazily. Their hair is a mess of tangles that spill in every direction. Bokuto plays with it, twirling strands around his fingers and tousling it even more.
"Good morning, Kuroo."
"Kenma's still sleepin'," Kuroo observes. His words slur together.
Akaashi nods, but the body atop him shakes their head. They wiggle until they're sitting up, their hair an even bigger mess than Kuroo's. They yawn, stifling it against their hand.
"Morning, Kitten," Kuroo says.
"Kenma's awake," Bokuto hums in delight.
Kenma makes a grunting noise, shoulders slouched and lids fluttering as he fights to stay awake. It's cute. He shakes his head, then slaps his hands against his cheeks and that seems to do the trick for the moment. He sits straighter, muttering a greeting.
Bokuto smooths down Kenma's hair. He nearly tucks it behind Kenma's ear before he halts, recalling that Kenma gets anxious if his field of vision is too wide.
Kenma's head drops to Bokuto's shoulder and he stares, almost unseeing, at a wall decoration across the room.
His body is awake, but his mind lags behind.
They don't mind.
Bokuto begins to prattle on about another dream he had and Kuroo chimes in with a sly comment every now and then.
Akaashi listens, quietly contemplating getting up and facing the chill in the air that has no doubt seeped through the entire house, or staying here, wrapped up and warm with the men he loves.
He settles for the latter and as Kenma slowly wakes and Bokuto shares his stories, Akaashi finds he wouldn't mind waking up this way for the rest of his life.