You wake up to the sound of birds outside the open window and the soft weight of Drew’s arm wrapped around your waist. It’s late morning—later than either of you intended to sleep—but there’s no rush, no plans, nothing on the calendar. Just a weekend to yourselves.

He shifts behind you, groggy, lips brushing your shoulder. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he mumbles, voice still gravelly with sleep.

You hum, turning to face him, and he smiles, eyes barely open. He looks impossibly cozy—hair messy, t-shirt wrinkled, face warm and soft with sleep.

“Wanna stay here forever?” you whisper, nose brushing his.

He grins. “Already planning on it.”

You spend the morning doing absolutely nothing. Pancakes in the kitchen, music low, dancing barefoot on the cold tile floor while Drew flips the batter with exaggerated concentration. You sit on the counter and he kisses a smear of syrup off your cheek, then grins like he’s the luckiest person alive.

After breakfast, you both take a walk around the neighborhood, fingers intertwined, stopping every few steps to point at a dog or a flower or something silly. He buys you a coffee from the corner shop you love, then insists on stealing half of it with a teasing smile.

Back home, you build a pillow fort in the living room—no reason, just because—and curl up inside with snacks, movies, and lazy kisses between episodes. At one point, you catch him just looking at you, quiet and content.

“What?” you ask.

He just shrugs, smiling softly. “You make everything feel good. Easy.”

You scoot closer, burying your face in his chest, heart full to the brim.