abby’s already on the couch when you come in, legs spread wide, tank top clinging to her back from the heat. there’s a faint scowl on her face, not angry—just focused, deep in thought the way she gets when she’s been in her head too long.

you toss your jacket on the back of a chair, walk over, and without a word, climb right into her lap.

she startles slightly, hands automatically catching your waist. “jesus,” she mumbles, but there’s no edge to it. “a little warning next time?”

you just grin, arms slipping around her neck. “you looked like you needed it.”

abby exhales, tension bleeding out of her shoulders as you settle against her. her hands stay on your hips, grounding, warm and steady. she doesn’t move, doesn’t push you off—just lets you be there, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re really not subtle, you know,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to your face.