Waking up next to Fuegoleon is a warm hand in warm hand. You two rise with the Sun as you share sleepy smiles. A throaty “good morning” greets you as you scooch closer to him and press your lips where the diamond mark is. He only hums in response. You two slowly begin to talk about one thing or another: a mission, silly squad stories, about everything, nothing. You hug him close, your fingers gently tracing “I love you” into his back. He kisses your neck and jaw before untangling himself from you. You both go about your separate morning routines until Fuegoleon had to do his hair. There’s nothing he loved more than your hands in his hair as you brushed it down. You would hum a soft song as you worked the products into his hair, occasionally interrupted by little kisses on your knuckles when your fingers strayed close to his face. When it’s time to part, he whispers a soft “I love you” against your lips and you go separate ways, with only the thought seeing each other again.