The first light of dawn peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the bedroom. You stirred under the warm covers, slowly waking to the quiet sounds of morning. The faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen and the low hum of a familiar voice singing along to the radio filled the air. You recognized Hizashi’s voice. Even at this early hour, he was full of energy, probably excited for his special radio show this evening. You turned over, your gaze landing on Aizawa still lying beside you. He was on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light, his breathing deep and even. For someone who spent most of his nights patrolling the city, he cherished these rare mornings where he could just stay in bed.

Aizawa’s eyes slowly opened, sensing that you woke up, dark and bleary but soft as they focused on you. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. He shifted, his arm coming up to pull you closer against him. From the kitchen, the smell of coffee began to waft into the room, accompanied by Hizashi’s cheerful humming.