#starrypier

You wake up groggier than usual. You’re still tired when you open your eyes, and the sunlight that slips through the curtains is unwelcome and far too bright. You have no idea what time it is, and when you move to turn over so that you can see the alarm clock you find that you can’t. Mirio’s arms are wrapped around you far too firmly, and that’s your first reminder of why you feel so residually sleepy this morning.

You’d been up long past late waiting for him to get home last night. You knew he was okay, he’d made an appearance on the eyewitness news in his hero costume after the fight and he’d even called you to say he was okay himself, but you still didn’t want to head to bed without seeing him.

But try as you may you cannot remember seeing him last night, and you definitely didn’t leave the couch to get yourself into bed, either.

So Mirio carried you to bed when he got home last night. That explains a lot, like why you’re still wearing your clothes from yesterday and how neatly tucked up under his chin you are. It’s comfortable, and his warm chest against your back urges you to stay in bed pressed against him, but you’re hungry from missing dinner last night and you need to change.

You muster all your current energy and twist around in his hold so that your nose is brushing against his bare chest, and you know he’s at least half-awake from the groan he makes when you press a kiss to his skin.

“Mm, g’morning,” He mumbles, dipping his head and burying his nose in your hair. The arm he has draped over your waist moves to pull you impossibly closer to him, his hand large and firm at the small of your back.

“Good morning,” You hum, tempted to stay wonderfully trapped in his hold until early afternoon. The steady sound of his breathing and the gentle rise and fall of his chest are almost enough to lull you back to sleep, but then you hear your phone buzz on the side table and you’re unfortunately reminded of all the things you still have to do today.

“C’mon Mirio,” You sigh, kissing his collarbone once before pushing at his chest to help you sit up far enough to see his face, “We gotta get up.”

“No...” He grumbles, eyes blinking open, “It’s Saturday, m’not moving yet.”

“It’s already late!” You tease, reaching out to run your fingers through his wild bed-head and smiling when he leans into your touch, “And it’s your turn to make breakfast.”

“M’not hungry,” He shakes his head a little, turning onto his back and pulling you on top of him with two strong hands on your hips. His thumbs rub innocent, soothing circles into your inner thighs while he looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, “Stay in bed with me.”

You pout, looking down at his tired blue eyes, the way pieces of his blond hair drape over his forehead, and the lazy grin that tugs the corners of his mouth just slightly up. He’s ridiculously soft-looking and unfairly cute, and there’s no way to resist leaning down to press your lips against his.

He hums happily against your mouth the second you do, hands sliding up your sides to the middle of your back to hold you close to him. You squeeze his hips between your legs and he moans softly against your lips, almost whimpering when you pull away before he can get his tongue in your mouth.

“Mm, I love you,” You whisper while your noses brush together, pressing one more chaste kiss to his lips before sitting up, “But you still gotta get up.”

“Babee...” He mewls pathetically, giving you his best pout, “Five more minutes.”

“That’s what you always say,” You shake your head but let him twine your fingers together when he reaches for your hands.

“But I mean it this time,” He assures, smile much brighter now as he tries to convince you to stay.

“Very tempting sir,” You pretend to contemplate his offer, unlocking your fingers and pressing his own hands to his chest, “But I’m getting up, I’m hungry.” You give his nose a quick kiss and climb off of him before he can get his arms around you again.

He moans defeatedly, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. You laugh at his dramatic antics and get to work picking out something more comfortable to wear for the day, and you know Mirio must really be tired because he doesn’t even try to sneak a peek at you while you change.

Five minutes pass, then ten while you play with your hair and switch your top a couple of times, but he still doesn’t make any kind of move to get up. “It’s been more than five minutes, Mirio,” You chide, thinking that he may really have fallen asleep again when you get no answer. Walking back over to the bed, you sigh and pull the blanket over his shoulders, “I’m going to make breakfast.”

You retreat down the hall and into the kitchen, ten more minutes passing before you can hear Mirio roll out of bed. You hear his bare feet padding against the tile floor before you feel his arms around your waist and his chin atop your head. He moves to kiss you but you stay focused on not burning your breakfast, and you can feel his pout without even looking at him.

“Are you mad at me?” He whines, and it sounds ridiculous because of how heavy his voice still is with sleep.

“No,” You state honestly. He doesn’t believe you.

“Don’t be mad at me, I love you,” Mirio purrs against your ear, giving it a kiss before continuing down your neck. He presses increasingly wet kisses to your skin, occasionally nipping when he likes a quiet gasp or moan you make.

“Can I make it up to you?” He murmurs, his nose brushing your jawline while he continues to kiss at your throat. His hands retreat to your hips, holding you flush against him.