「 The sky was still half-asleep, tinted pale lavender through the bedroom curtains. The faint hum of the city beyond the frosted windows mixed with the low murmur of the radiator, and somewhere under a pile of tangled blankets, Brighteyes stirred. 」

「 Shedletsky was already awake—or at least pretending to be. He lay on his side, one arm tucked beneath his head, watching as she fought the weight of morning. Her purple hair was an absolute battlefield—flat on one side, tangled into chaotic waves on the other, a few stubborn strands sticking straight up. She squinted at him through sleep-heavy eyes, voice groggy. 」

「 Shedletsky was already half-awake beside her, watching her squirm deeper into the covers like she could fight off the morning itself. He smiled faintly when she peeked out, only one eye visible through the mess of purple strands. She groaned at the sight of her reflection in the mirror across the room—hair wild, shirt wrinkled, slipper missing. 」

「 BRIGHTEYES 」: “Ugh. My hair’s a mess.”

「 Shedletsky chuckled quietly, stretching his arms over his head before slipping out of bed. The sound of running water soon filled the bathroom, followed by a faint cloud of steam. By the time she shuffled in after him, he was standing by the mirror with a towel around his neck, his hair still damp. 」

「 SHEDLETSKY 」: “You look perfect.”

「 BRIGHTEYES 」: “John.” She blinked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Do not touch my hair if you’re going to insult it.”

「 Shedletsky raised both hands in surrender, then opened the drawer beside her and pulled out her hairbrush—the same one he always pretended not to know how to use, even though he brushed her hair every week. He stepped between her legs and tilted his head dramatically. 」

「 He smirked but he leaned in, gently playing her hair with his fingers first, like he always did. The strands were soft, slightly tangled, warmed by the sun just starting to peek through. He worked slowly, careful not to tug, his movements almost meditative. BrightEyes watched him in the mirror, her eyes sleepy, lids heavy. 」

「 SHEDLETSKY 」: “Madam,” he said in his most regal admin voice, “may I be granted the great honor of brushing the hair of the most powerful woman on the platform?”

「 BRIGHTEYES 」: “Only if you don’t break it like you did the forums.” She rolled her eyes.

「 SHEDLETSKY 」: “Trying not to mess this up and admiring my beautiful wife.”

「 Brighteyed sat on the counter, legs swinging gently, one slipper barely hanging off her foot. She wore one of Shedletsky’s old oversized shirts—faded, a little too big, and clearly stolen. Her purple hair was a mess of flattened waves and sleep-tangled strands, her rainbow sunglasses resting beside the sink like a shrine to her usual chaos. 」

「 Shedletsky stood behind her in the mirror, towel draped over one shoulder, toothbrush lazily hanging from his mouth. He grinned faintly, eyes meeting hers in the glass. She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. He reached for the drawer beside her and pulled out her hairbrush—the same one he always pretended not to know how to use. His fingers moved first, carefully separating the knots, before the brush followed—slow, deliberate strokes that made her shoulders relax. 」

「 SHEDLETSKY 」: “You know,” he murmured, “this might be my favorite part of the morning.”

「 Brighteyes’s breath caught just a little. She looked down, smiling despite herself, and swatted his arm lightly. 」