“Bone apple teeth!”
Eijirou watches you with a dazzling grin as you gape at the numerous dishes he cooked from scratch, presented in a neat arrangement he's set up painstakingly across the dining table.
Tantalizing sunny side up eggs that are a little burnt around the edges, but no less beautiful, seem to stare right back at you along with an assortment of other delicious breakfast foods you never even knew he was capable of making, despite the many blissful years that marked the time you've spent in his company.
The entire feast couldn't have taken less than hours to prepare, a sentiment that has your heart clenching when you note that it's barely even past seven in the morning. Even the birds residing in the old tree beside your home are only just beginning to stir and sing their hymns.
“Eiji, you really didn't have to..” You pout remorsefully, even as you slip into the chair he's already all but pulled out for you.
He scurries over to the adjacent seat across yours, excitement tingling in his bones that give him the same energy as that of a kid waking up early on Christmas day.
“I wanted to,” he states simply with glimmering crimson hues, and there it is again– that warm feeling flushing your insides, a sweetness you can almost taste that embodies the room and turns the air around you viscous like honey– making you wonder what you've done in a past life to deserve this, to deserve him.
“Did you even sleep?” You try to connect your gazes as you ask, looking for your answer in the way his eyes slide tentatively away from yours, the gesture alone enough to give him away to your construe.
“I did,” he clears his throat, distracting himself with cutting up greasy chunks of bratwurst and shoveling a hefty amount of them onto your plate before taking the remains for himself, “later.”
You frown at that, mindlessly nibbling on a piece of meat. “That makes no sense.”
Late into the previous night, you received an unwarranted call from your boss requesting that you turn in your share of paperwork the next damn day, switching from the original deadline which was set for a little over the next two weeks- meaning, you hadn't even touched them, much less were you anywhere near finished with them.
Running on nothing but fumes and barely helpful caffeine boosts, you were forced to slave away at your computer past midnight, with Eijirou absolutely refusing to head to bed without you despite your constantly urging him that you were only going to be five more minutes (so just go the heck to sleep).
Of course that was a lie and Eijirou lost count of the many times you'd parroted the same words over and over to him before he could finally pass out with you curled into his side like dead weight at the dreadful hour of three in the freaking morning.
You'd been so tired you completely slept through him getting up before you; didn't even flinch underneath the covers as he made a ruckus in the kitchen just a floor below your shared bedroom. You can't imagine how he must be feeling, practically having pulled an all nighter with you in addition to waking up extra early, all in the name of surprising you with this.
The act is unnecessary as it is incredibly endearing, and you can't fathom the reasoning behind it seeing as how there isn't any special occasion coming up– no anniversary, not any of your birthdays.. and Eijirou surely shouldn't be the one to break out the news of a shocking pregnancy.
The both of you don't have anything scheduled besides work, really.
You at the office and him at Fatgum's hero agency, the very same job he's had since the day you first met- dating back to when he rescued you on one of his many missions, getting himself seriously injured before you could even thank him for his heroic deed. You nursed him back to health to show your gratitude and within the month that he was under your care, he found himself helplessly grown attached to you, asking you out as soon as he was discharged from the hospital. Of course, you said yes, and just like that– history happily wrote itself out in pink ink.
And here you are today.
He pours you a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a quiet serenity filling in the proximity between you and him like bright liquid did the shiny vessel.
“What makes no sense is that baldy giving you a crap load to do at such short notice.” Razor teeth tear into a syrupy piece of sugar-powdered waffle like he was imagining it to be the head of your indeed balding superior, the image both terrifying and hilarious to play in your head.
“Isn't it illegal? To contact you outside of office hours and force you to work overtime?” He contemplates quite seriously, and you shrug in return, not finding the issue nearly as important as he did.
“I don't know, I don’t think it is. Besides, it isn't that big of a deal. It's rare that these things happen anyway,” you say over a mouthful of egg and bacon, pretending you don't notice the look he's giving you, heavy with concern.
“I'm more worried about a certain guy I know,” you begin, peeking at him from under your lashes, “he's a pro hero by day and has his hands full protecting the entire population of Musutafu, but rumors say he still refuses to rest properly, even goes as far to cook breakfast for his girl when he's supposed to be sleeping.”
An amused grin creeps its way onto Eijirou's lips, and he struggles to feign a thoughtful look.
“Wonder who that could be? He sounds lame, totally whipped,” he snickers, and you playfully knock your knee against his under the table in faux irritation.
“Tell me something, (Y/n). How come you're allowed to worry for me but whenever I do it, you always brush me off?” His gaze softens as if it hadn't already been total mush from the start, fixing his jaw atop his hand as he uses his free one to reach over and gingerly thumb at a stray crumb resting on the edge of your lip.
“You do the exact same thing babe,” you purr, leaning into his soothing, calloused touch. With your head cocked just slightly to match his, the both of you are practically a couple of lovesick weirdos giving each other googly eyes in a very bare house with little to no furniture, an excess of goddamn food occupying the surface of your table for two.
“Hey, this isn't about me. Don't turn the tables like that,” he flashes you a playful smile, retracting his hand only to stand up from his seat and lean over you, replacing the loss of his digits with a gentle graze of his lips against your forehead.
“It’s just breakfast, and of course I had to commemorate today. It's officially been a whole week since we moved in here,” he plants soft pecks along your nose bridge, traveling lower until the soft petals of his lips mold perfectly against yours, tasting of maple syrup, powdered sugar, and a wordless promise of sweeter things to come.
“Which.. also.. means,” he sighs between molten kisses, and you can feel him smiling against your lips, “we've successfully hit our first week together.. as a married couple.”
The table separating your bodies feels like a total obstacle now, and you want nothing more than to jump over it and wrap your husband in a good old skeleton-crushing embrace. Lord knows his quirk would allow him to survive such an ordeal and you’re convinced there was a reason you were fated to be his wife, and that was to love him so hard it could (and probably would) physically hurt him.
You bring your hands up to the sides of his face, unabashedly smooshing his cheeks together, making his lips along with the rest of his face pucker up comically. You laugh before lovingly kissing him again, the golden band around your ring finger catching the soft sunlight filtering in through the curtains of your kitchen window, reflecting a blurry streak of warm light onto a nearby wall.
“I love you Eiji.”
“Love you more, Mrs. Kirishima.”