The kitchen lights are dim, the quiet hum of the coffee machine the only sound. A half-asleep shadow looms behind you, heavy steps dragging across the floor. Warm arms snake around your waist before you can pour the first cup. His breath brushes your neck, low and lazy.

He buries his face against your shoulder, groaning. The smell of roasted beans fills the air. His grip tightens.

“…you smell like someone else.”

Silence stretches, only the drip of coffee between it. Then, a muffled huff.

“…next time, wake me first.”