His thoughts swirl, misty and red, filled with mental pictures of her overwhelmed by love, whispering his name like he's everything. They're embraced so closely he can't even say where he starts and she ends; they are, body and soul meshed until there's no outline, and he's never felt so euphoric. A familiar pinch in his spine makes the mirage waver until it threatens to dissolve, and Akihiko realizes he's probably dreaming all of it.

I don't care if it's dawn. Not today.

His internal clock can take a hike as far as he's concerned. He's not awake yet, merely annoyed, and he tries to cling to the tatters of that dream before it fades to no avail. At least his bed has never been so comfortable; he's so warm he could melt, her fingers rest in his hair and her familiar fragrance beckons him. It's been ages since they spent a night together like this, and he'd like this moment to stretch forever.

Trying to settle back into the plushy haze just makes his awareness of Minako's presence stronger as minutes tick by; her nails moving down to brush along his spine send shivers through him, their sparks seeping into bones. Her ankle rubs against the back of his bare knee, coiling tighter around him as she exhales softly on his exposed shoulder. These small sensory details breeze through the fog, lifting it just enough to realize that they're tangled under his coverlet wearing absolutely nothing.

Hold on…

Struggling against drowsiness, Akihiko slowly opens his eyes to make sense of his impressions, moving carefully to avoid waking her. His room is dark, but he can make out some outlines in the dim light filtering through his curtains and he stops breathing. No wonder he found his pillow soft and sweetly perfumed; he was nuzzling in her cleavage, and his free arm curls around her lower back like he owns it. Her creamy limbs are woven around his frame, possessively holding him close to her heart as if there's so much to cherish, and there's no denying what inspired his dreams.

Blood rushes all over him at the recollection of the night before and his face burns so hot he's surprised he doesn't start glowing. Whatever enchantment took over in the murk of the Dark Hour lingers strong; his usual prickly tension is muted despite the enormity of what happened, cushioned by a profound lethargy.

We died in each other, in love, together.

He brushes the hair from her brow, pondering how this is almost too surreal to be true. Minako looks utterly adorable, lips parted and relaxed in total abandon around him. He's watched her sleep before, but today, it feels different. The sight of her moves his wrist, the compulsion to touch her too enticing to resist, trying to map his reverie to the actual event. His fingers follow a strand of hair to trail down her neck, around her shoulder, curling to her back with the barest of caresses. She sighs and mumbles, stretching lazily, flexing her nails.

"Mmmm… morning..."

Her sleepy murmur is enough to make his sluggish mind fold on itself, and his palm pushes her against him. He brings their entwined hands to his cheek, languidly kissing her wrist before resting his lips on her pulse, whispering.

"Shhh… Too early."

I didn't want to wake you.

She molds herself to his body until there's no space left instead, her leg sliding on his skin the same way the rest of her does everywhere. Her lips brush on his earlobe, and Akihiko can't repress the intense shudder it draws out of him, squeezing their joined hands in reflex.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead…"

It takes very little coaxing on her part to convince him that rest is overrated. Drowning in warmth in the darkness of dawn, they exchange lazy, dreamlike caresses. Half-awake and starving for each other, they painstakingly come back to a semblance of life, fingers and lips scouring so slowly they might as well be tendrils of mist. Minako's mouth is all over his neck until it joins his for feathery kisses, her nails trenching fire circles on his shoulder blades as he lets his palm roam tenderly on her lower back, and her throaty hum of pleasure is the last straw. There's no hiding his physical reaction to their closeness and that melody, and he blinks, embarrassed.

I can't help it. You're just so… everything.

Her lashes reveal stars beneath them when he dares to look at her, dark and sparkling, and she bites her lip mischievously.

"How do you feel about trying that again…"

The huskiness of her words moves his hand to her hip, and Akihiko grabs it with twitching knuckles, suddenly very irrational. Maybe he never really woke up, he dreamed about her and this all night. Now the script loops back on itself as if their nap was just an intermission, plunging him right back into a thick red mist that turns his skin clammy. It's hard for him to breathe properly just thinking about it, and he growls as he licks his way into her mouth, overwhelmed by vivid memories. Her heart beats as loud as his when he eventually glides his lips wetly down her neck to her breast, her nails raking his back.

"Aki…"

Say it again. Please.

It's such a drowsy whisper, echoed by the rasping air in his throat, and he tastes her flesh until his nickname rolls off her tongue once more. Minako pushes against his shoulder, slowly rolling them both until she's sprawled on top of him. He doesn't even resist; he really likes that no matter what it says about him, but her assertiveness in this context is the kind of fantasy you never admit to out loud. There's something wanton in the way she slithers her body on his like a sheet of magma, and Akihiko can't take his hooded eyes away from her.

The unruly mass of her reddish curls, fluffed into indifferent disarray, frames her pale face above him and it's so enticing a picture he laps up her throat until he makes his way back to her lips. The kiss they share is slow and greedy, crisscrossed fingers tightening when they relent for fresh air, each dive back deepening in intensity until they're both panting.

"I love you…"

His voice turns into a whine at the soft slickness she slowly grinds on him, blurring the line between wishful reverie and insanity until it dims into nothingness. Minako puts her weight on their anchored wrist to sit up, squirming on his lap as he grabs her waist like a lifeline.

Black flutter over red, gazing at him possessively as her free hand roams down his ribs, sliding between her legs. Her face angles up, exposing the curve of her neck when she gasps as she touches them both. He twitches and growls, ears full of those dreamy sounds she makes when his fingers follow hers. He can't see a thing, but he can feel how boiling hot and wet she is, how her soft hand glides on him until it grips harder. His eyes shut tight, and he groans as she slides herself over him, joining them excruciatingly slowly, driving him six feet under in twice as many heartbeats.

You're going to kill me, and I want you to.

Her thighs flex and tense around him, her palm spreading the sweat beading over his heart across his chest until she finds a hold on his shoulder, and he can't look away from the sultry lip bite floating above him. And then she moves, and Akihiko loses it, gripping her leg, her hip, digging his nails into her everywhere blindly as he exhales in staccato, shocked into sensory overload.

"…Is that…okay?"

Her whisper is tender, shy even, and he could laugh like a madman at the question if he wasn't so spellbound by the sight of her flaying him from her perch.

…Okay? Just… okay?

He can't find it in himself to reply and just pulls their death grip over his shoulder, Minako is too far, and he wants her folded close. Their joined hands separate and he rubs her shoulder blades, dances along her spine, tracing her neck as he answers the only way he can. He eventually cups the side of her jaw and tangles his fingers in her hair, crashing their lips together until they meld, so hungry for her he could beg. His other palm molds to her hip, his thumb arcing over that perfect curve, pushing her to him, moving himself in her as they ebb and flow lusciously, together.

It's the slowest of demise, a quiet torment that won't let up as they sing a dirge in tandem, savoring every crackle in the buildup of red static until it becomes a storm they can't escape. She's drowning him in liquid hellfire as she rolls her hips against his in some ungodly way, burning just as much as she did in his dreams, as she did yesterday, and their communion scorches them both alive.

Oh Mina… you're breathtaking.

All Akihiko can see is her half-lidded eyes, aflame with love and lust under a curtain of unruly copper. Her tongue sears his own as she sighs down his throat, and they dig their communal grave deeper, skin slippery and sliding on each other. His lips latch on all he can reach when he needs a breath; delicately nibbling her collarbone, nuzzling her neck, kissing her throat as her nails scratch at his shoulders and the back of his head.

Crawl in the pyre with me.

And she does, her teeth biting on his lower lip, gasping in surprise when he drives her on him hard. He gorges on her moans to muffle the noise, but mostly to claim his due; that's all his and he wants all of it. She shudders and her breath catches in her throat, fingers digging hard in the crook of his neck. He holds on to her shaking body tightly, moving with her until she melts completely, and lightning finally strikes him dead.

He remains disembodied for a long minute, mouth agape, blind and stunned. It's a slow crawl into his burning skin when he flies down, back to her, breathless and dizzy. Opening his eyes reveals Minako as his funeral shroud, limply draped all over his body, rubies glazed and filled with adoration.

The glory of you right now…

Akihiko leans his cheek toward the hand she still has on his neck, and she cradles his face tenderly. His lips find her wrist, the base of her thumb, then her palm, kissing them with the utmost care to bracket each of his words.

"This is… the best morning… of my life."

It's still quite early; the sunlight so faint, silence only broken by their breaths and the shuffling of their ankles against each other. Her nails slowly trace the contour of his brow outward, circling around his ear as she keeps staring back, smiling despite her exhaustion.

"There's just… no words… I don't think I could walk right now."

Her quiet laugh is listless and full of mischief, and he couldn't agree more. Maybe he'll take it easy on the training today, he's drained as if they ran for miles and they're not even up yet. They're a bit sticky too, his covers are a mess, and he'll have a bedfull of laundry to tackle later, but today is a holiday and they can perhaps sneak some more shared rest.

Stay here. Stay, with me.

They've been cocooned in each other ever since Minako dropped by with her gift, and as they shared their feelings the world simply faded away. Time flows, but they remain in stasis, eyes locked, fingers sticking to skin. Words don't need to exist, they're just drained husks left behind by the fire they shared, and their eloquence is in the gentle painting of their ashes.

It takes a lifetime for a hushed thought to escape his lips, and his arms tighten around her now that he finds the strength.

"I just want to keep holding you like this."

It's that whispered compulsion that drives Akihiko to push his coverlet aside until he's down to the sheets, draping the loose one he dislodges over their joined embrace. They're both so warm it's not like they need a blanket, but it feels good to lie under the thin fabric, nonetheless. It's also getting brighter, and he's feeling a tad self-conscious about their state of undress.

"I like these quiet moments the best. When it's just us, like this… I can simply be a girl. A silly, carefree, very much in love girl."

Minako's quiet musing sounds like the little truths they share on the horizontal bar, its melancholy tugging hard at his soul because he's no stranger to that feeling. He rarely allows himself to be anything else than a dedicated warrior and student, and letting go of his ever-present sense of responsibility is as hard as refusing a dare. Cultivating that goal consumes his life in many ways, and that pursuit forged an iron cage called control around him.

Irrational, emotional, vulnerable… I can only be this way around you, too.

There's little opportunity to just be a teenager when so much rides on his ideals, on the promises he made to himself, to others, to the memory of his sister. Being a living weapon is sometimes all that keeps him afloat, away from regrets and failure, although Minako changed that over time.

She gave him room to just… be, and her light paints a shadow of him shaped quite differently. They have obligations outside this room, out of this dream they wove together, fights to win and shadows to beat, but for a little while longer he'd like to pretend none of that matters.

He admires the strong, upbeat front she puts up to play leader, the one that inspires others with contagious joie de vivre and boundless smiles. But the real Minako under that mask is the one that makes him feel possessive, protective, strong and defenseless all at once. It's the part that's scarred but shines brightest, precious and genuine, and he wants to cradle it in his arms, keep it safe from everything.

"…My girl?"

It has the intonation of a question, but it's also a plea and a tentative assertion. It's silly, given what they said, what they shared, but he craves the answer anyways. The pronoun screams of secret promises, of private commitments, and she kisses him tenderly as if she gets the depth of it.

"Who else's?"

Eyes already closing as her cheek rests against his, her amused voice slurs with sleepiness, and he lazily grins.

My girl. My sunshine.

Letting his fingers play in her hair, he yawns, flowery clouds blooming in his mind.

"…Year… not enough… I wish…"

It's just a mumble that comes out of her lips, low and dreamlike, and the statement is puzzling enough that he tries to blink the tiredness away to make sense of it. But she's so soft and warm that Akihiko sinks into slumber.

The sun is much higher in the sky by the time he emerges from his room, looking a little immaterial despite a shower and fresh clothes. Vibrantly aware he's alive, Akihiko can't recall the last time he felt so good. He's blissfully exhausted, a little haggard, but it's all he can do not to grin like an idiot as he carries his laundry downstairs.

His stomach growls painfully as he starts the washing machine in the basement, and he winces as he walks back to the main floor. His routine is so ingrained by now that his body expects fuel at specific hours, which he slept through, and he needs to eat something yesterday before he dies.

He can't even pay attention to who is lounging in the lobby as he crawls to the fridge to rummage for sustenance. Looking at food is painful; he's suddenly so hungry he could fall into pieces, and his mind bubbles the most absurd inner thought to the forefront.

I'll need to adjust that meal plan if this happens often.

Just thinking how he'd word that entry in his notebook makes him chuckle at the silliness of the notion as he heats up yesterday's leftovers. Junpei chooses that moment to pop an inquisitive face in the kitchen, staring at him while the microwave works its magic.

"Dude… Are you okay?"

What's with that word today?

Okay is not how he'd even begin to describe how he feels, and he didn't look weird when he left his room, yet Iori's worry is plastered all over his face.

"Wow, you look like you've been through the wringer. You made such a racket with all that training, did you even sleep?"

The dots don't quite connect in the mellowness of his mind, and he blinks, confused.

"Huh?"

His friend just whispers, voice dripping with his usual mockery, eyes so bright he can clearly smell blood.

"You're lucky I'm used to the silly noises you make when you work out, because for a minute back there it almost sounded like something else."

The statement hangs in the air, and Akihiko blanches before turning bright red at the probable cause of those words.

Oh. Oh crap!

Junpei snickers at his reaction, a little too happy he managed to rile him up. All he can do is freeze, suddenly quite aware he can't afford to spill any clue that confirms the veracity of that tease.

"Iori, don't be a moron! Yesterday was too much and I had to burn through it. Get it out of my system… you know."

Very poor choice of words there.

His explanation is too close to the truth for his comfort and his ears screech, but his junior just laughs and pats him on the shoulder.

"C'mon dude, I'm joking! I know you by now, you're the only guy nuts enough to squat at weird hours because of your obsession with calorie intake."

He almost hisses in relief as Junpei takes a can out of the fridge, cracking it open like it was all nothing.

"Too much is right though. I can't believe all that insane food senpai cooked up, that was one hell of a night!"

Yeah, it was… absolutely unforgettable.

Akihiko's lips absently curl upward just thinking about everything that happened, the fingers in his pocket rubbing over the Hare's jewel he carries, and for a second, he swears Iori's eyes glint strangely at the edge of his vision. But his junior slurps his lemonade out of the kitchen in a few long strides, settling down on the sofa with his console and perhaps it was all just a trick of the light.

I'm just tired, that's all.

He takes his merry time finding chopsticks, chasing the static away, and crafts a mask of nonchalance before stepping out of the kitchen with his meal. Ken, Fuuka and Aigis are absorbed in their own occupations, and a few head nods with his mouth full takes care of civility as he savors the fruit of Shinji's skills with gusto.

Keeping quietly busy seems like a good way to avoid people as his giddiness abates, he can just study and take care of laundry until they deploy to Tartarus. He'd usually rely on an intense workout to burn the red high away, but right now he rather likes the remnants of her presence hanging loose around him and the elation he feels.

Just this once. Just today.