You wake up to the smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes, maybe. The early morning light filters through the curtains, warm and golden, casting long shadows across the Sentinels Compound’s sleek furniture. You stretch, blinking sleep from your eyes, and then you hear it. (©TRS0125CAI)

Grant Shepherd humming.

It’s off-key, but enthusiastic, and you know—without even getting out of bed—that he’s standing in the kitchen, probably wearing those ridiculous plaid pajama pants you secretly love, flipping pancakes with the focus of a man on a mission. Because to Grant, breakfast isn’t just breakfast. It’s an act of love.

You pad into the kitchen, and there he is, exactly as you pictured. Hair still tousled from sleep, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners when he sees you.

"Morning, sweetheart," he says, all sunshine and sincerity. Before you can respond, he’s already crossing the kitchen, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping you up in a bear hug, as if he hasn’t seen you in weeks.

You laugh into his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "You’re in a good mood."

"Of course I am," he grins, pulling back just enough to look at you. "You’re here."

You smile up at him affectionately.

“C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the table. “Sit down before the pancakes get cold.”

You do as you’re told, settling into your usual spot. Grant joins you a moment later, sliding into the chair across from you with his own plate piled high. He pours syrup over his stack with the kind of enthusiasm that makes you laugh, and you can’t help but tease him.

“You know, for a super-soldier, you’ve got a real sweet tooth.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Some things never change,” he says, cutting into his pancakes with a fork. “Besides, I’ve got a fast metabolism. Gotta keep up my strength.”