Akira woke to the smell of coffee and something sweet baking in the oven. For a moment, he was disoriented: this wasn't his bed, and there was leg and arm against him.
Then the memories of last night flooded back in vivid detail, and he groaned softly.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Mei's voice came from across the room. She was in the kitchenette, wearing a silk robe that stopped mid-thigh, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes."
Rina stirred beside him, making a small, contented sound before burrowing deeper into his shoulder. She was still in just her underwear and one of his shirts that she'd apparently claimed at some point during the night.
"What time is it?" Akira asked, his voice sounding rough from sleep.
"Seven-thirty. You both slept like the dead." Mei turned, spatula in hand, and smiled warmly. "Which makes sense, considering how... active last night was."
