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There are two ways to wake your sleeping boyfriend.
The first option takes on a more gentle approach; lightly shaking the boy, calling out to him quietly and even offering him a cup of coffee as an aide to help him wake up. And then there's the other way: jumping on top of him as if his body were a trampoline made for your own enjoyment.
Personally, I prefer the second method.
"Fuck! Ikari!" The boy rasps out, his morning voice seeping through groggily—if it wasn't for the fact that I was on the very important mission of waking him up, I would've likely started obsessing over this, however, now was not the time to fangirl over my boyfriend.
When I don't stop jumping, he starts slapping my legs causing me to shriek and collapse onto the bed—or more accurately—on top of him.
The boy is leant up on one elbow as his other arm is securely wrapped around my back so that he takes the brunt of my fall. I end up straddling the boy with both hands on either side of his body, the proximity—or lack thereof—leaving mere inches between the two of us.
"Good morning." I breathe out, already exhausted by the physical exertion.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He grumbles tiredly. There's a pause as he starts to collect himself, his eyes blinking repeatedly as to help quell the tiredness. "So," he starts after a few moments, "why the attempted murder?"
Katsuki was always so quiet when he first woke up—a state of his I would consider to be the literal embodiment of "the calm before the storm".
"Oh, you know me, all I do is kill for the thrill." I smile up at him, as he groans in response, laying back down in his pillow and shutting his eyes. "No. Bad dog. Get up. You've slept long enough."
