Saturday mornings all start out the same.
A sweet pain spreading along the curve of his jaw, feathery, red hair brushing his cheeks, tickling his ears, a raspberry blown in the crook of his neck, a pearly giggle and a pair of lips kissing his cheeks, over and over again.
"Wooyoung," San rasps, voice cracking lightly, sourness of sleep stuck to the roof of his mouth, a grainy layer over his teeth, mouth curving into a smile even before the veil of sleep is lifted, the warm body lying on his chest chasing away the cold that may chill him from the inside.
The boy freezes for a second before melting again, kisses the corner of his mouth and relaxes, their hearts beating in sync- it sometimes feels as if they have two hearts in two corners of their chests, thrumming together- voice low and thick like molasses as he greets his lover. "Good morning."
"Good morning, love. Did you sleep well on top of me?" He teases, fond and affectionate, carding his fingers through the mess on top of his head, scratching lightly just to hear Wooyoung purr, feeling grounded by the boy lying on top of him.
"Hmm, yes I did," He murmurs, nuzzling into his touch, face bare, smile glowing in the pale sunlight.
San pats his cheek, thumb brushing along the arch of his cheekbone, mouth stretched into the biggest grin, unable to contain his adoration.
There are not many hours when San feels at ease, there is always something to do and something to perfect but Saturday mornings, with Wooyoung in his bed, the panic fades away, his chest tight with knots starts to unravel and loosens up, the lines around his face turn to signs of happiness and not stress.
He awaits for these days, just so he could watch the smooth plane of Wooyoung's back glowing in the dusty sunshine that seeping through the flimsily hung curtains, feeling the butterflies and muscles of his stomach flutter, as if it is the first time he is experiencing these- his eager fingers map out the constellations dusted on his shoulders, trying to get a handful of stardust to sprinkle on his boy, make him glow that much brighter.
"Stop doing that," He whines, squirming under San's hand, ticklish, face blooming into a rosy hue.
San's excitement mellows out into familiar contentment and his laugh melts into daylight. "Let's wake up, baby?"
Wooyoung sighs, sulky and forlorn, sitting up and rolling off his chest to press an open mouthed kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Time to wake up," He coos, face warm and sleep soft, the corners of his eyes crinkling, delicate and golden in the honey light pouring through.
Socked feet touch the cold floor of the room, messy hair fall into his face. "Up, up," He chastises, pulling the sheets from where they are pooled around San's navel to reveal a lean torso.
It's a routine, a predictable one and as per the routine Wooyoung pokes his belly button, San flails his limbs accompanied by a loud shriek, and sits up, swatting at the hands. "You're so annoying."
"It's all love, I swear!" Wooyoung replies from somewhere in the bathroom.
The tap is on and there is the sound of water running. San can imagine the little splotch of toothpaste on the corner of his mouth, foam dripping down his toothbrush, the water stains on the mirror which he will yell at his lover for later on in the day.
And it is exactly what he had imagined, except the toothpaste is smudged on his cheek. San never wants to see anything else now that he has seen this.
Wooyoung meets his eyes in the mirror and wriggles his bum, just to make him laugh and nothing more, god he is so in love with him, it hurts him. San smiles, stupidly wagging his eyebrows.
"You'll be the death of me," San declares, wetting his own toothbrush, bumping sides and Wooyoung squeaks.
He bends to spit out the foam and glares. "lf you keep this up, I might actually be the death of you."
"That makes no sense, baby" He quips, foam staining his teeth.
They are so fucking unglamorous, cheeks imprinted with pillow creases, voices scratchy and cracking, but he thinks he could burst from the joy he feels bubbling in him.
"That was a serious threat, Choi San," Wooyoung grumbles, shying away from his apologetic touches.
He still sets out a fluffy towel for him and San falls in love with him just a little bit more.
******
He finds him in the kitchen, bowls set out on the counter, looking awake and alert, crouching to look under the sink, rummaging for pots and pans.
He waits until Wooyoung is standing up straight to make his presence known. "Hey, Woo."
The boy hums in reply, still lost in his world, arm raised midway as an invitation to fit himself beside his body, making space for him.
"Hi, baby," He greets back, puckering his lips, head tilted a little up, asking to be kissed.
So, San kisses him, and the kiss is one that speaks of familiarity and domesticity, and safety that comes from love stemming from something pure.
"We have stuff to do," He reminds him, pulling away, pecking him on the cheek.
"We'll get to them, eventually," San says, wrapping his arms around his boy, pushing off the hair falling into his eyes and pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.
"I love you."
"I love you too," He breathes, and yeah.
Saturday mornings all start out the same, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
