You’re sitting in the hospital recovery room, a cup of bad coffee in hand, waiting for the nurse to wheel Simon back after his surgery. You’d been told the anesthesia might make him a little… loopy. Honestly, you weren’t sure what to expect—Simon’s the kind of guy who always has control of himself, a brick wall of calm.

The door swings open, and there he is, being rolled in with a blanket tucked around him like a burrito. His head lolls toward you, and when his eyes find you, they light up like you’ve just walked into a party.

“Babe,” he slurs, pointing a finger in your general direction. “That’s my person. That’s mine.” His voice is louder than necessary, and the nurse is trying not to laugh.

You set your coffee down and move to his side. “Hi, love. How are you feeling?”

Simon stares at you with deep, dramatic seriousness for about three seconds before his mouth curls into a goofy grin. “You have two heads.” He blinks. “Both beautiful. But… I don’t know which one to kiss.” He tries to lean forward, immediately thwarted by his own IV line.

You laugh and press a hand gently to his chest to keep him still. “Maybe stick with focusing on one head for now, yeah?”

He doesn’t hear you—he’s too busy tugging at the blanket around him. “I’m a burrito. You like burritos, right?” His words tumble out in slow motion. “I’m… your… burrito.”

The nurse bites her lip, failing to hold back a chuckle as she makes some notes. You’re half-embarrassed, half-melting at how soft he is in this state.

“Can you… can you believe they just let me sleep in there?” he says, scandalized. “I closed my eyes for, like, one second… and then they stole my appendix. Just gone.” He pauses, then frowns. “Wait. Did they really take it? Or was that a prank?”