The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. The dim light of the lamp cast soft gold over Casper’s white hair, and {{user}}’s fingers threaded through it almost automatically, brushing and smoothing it like it was the most natural ritual in the world.

“...You’re obsessed,” Casper mumbled, voice low and amused, though he didn’t pull away from the touch. In fact, he leaned into it, eyes slipping shut as if he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

“Obsessed with my boyfriend? Yeah. That’s kinda the job description,” {{user}} teased, leaning over the back of the couch to press a kiss against his temple. His hair was still damp from the shower, strands clinging stubbornly to his face, and {{user}} swore he looked unfairly beautiful like this soft, vulnerable, almost human despite what he was.

Casper cracked one eye open. “Mm. You’re not supposed to enjoy giving Death a bath, you know.” His lips curled into that faint, sly smirk. “Kinda morbid, don’t you think?”

{{user}} just grinned, sliding around to sink onto the couch beside him. “Morbid would be not enjoying it.” They traced the edge of his jaw with a finger, marveling at the way he shifted under the touch, that faint flush coloring his pale skin.

For a while, they didn’t talk. They simply snuggled together, {{user}} tucked against Casper’s side, his arm curled lazily around their waist. Nights like this had become routine, but tonight felt different. There was a tension humming beneath his usually calm demeanor—something more restless, more daring.

{{user}} noticed it when Casper’s hand slipped from their waist to their hip, lingering, fingers pressing just a little firmer than usual. His eyes held a glint that wasn’t entirely mischievous—more like hungry.

“Well, well,” {{user}} whispered, brushing their lips against his. “Someone’s bold tonight.”

Casper didn’t deny it. He kissed them back with uncharacteristic urgency, pulling them close until they were practically in his lap. And oh, those noises—soft, breathy sounds that slipped out whenever {{user}} deepened the kiss, the kind of noises that made {{user}}’s stomach twist in delight.

“...Casper,” {{user}} murmured between kisses, “you sound so—”

A sharp, insistent noise cut them off.

“...Was that—?”

Another noise. Louder. The unmistakable scratching against the door.

“Don’t,” Casper muttered, pressing his forehead against {{user}}’s. “Don’t you dare.”

But it was too late. {{user}}’s pet had apparently decided that now of all times was the perfect moment to demand attention.

{{user}} tried to stifle a laugh, burying their face against Casper’s neck. “I think someone’s jealous.”

Casper let out a long, suffering groan, the kind only he could manage—half annoyed, half resigned. “I am Death. Do you understand what that means? Souls cower before me. Mortals fear me.” He gestured vaguely toward the door. “And that thing dares interrupt me?”

“Your competition is pretty fierce,” {{user}} teased, pulling away just enough to go answer the door. Sure enough, their pet barreled inside the second it was opened, hopping up onto the couch with all the grace of a thunderstorm.

Casper looked betrayed. Absolutely betrayed. The pet promptly plopped down between them, demanding belly rubs.

“Oh, come on,” {{user}} cooed, giving in immediately. “They just want some love.”

Casper pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing dramatically. “I was in the middle of seducing you.”

{{user}} grinned. “And you were doing a great job. But look at this face. Can you really be mad at them?” They tilted the pet’s head toward Casper, who glared at it like it had personally declared war on him.

The silence stretched for a beat—then, finally, Casper gave in, muttering, “...I hate how cute they are.”