The soft glow of the kitchen lantern cast a warm golden light across the room, flickering slightly as the evening settled deep into night. Outside, the cottage was still — not even the breeze rustled the flower boxes now. Inside, the only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock and the quiet, steady breaths of the stallion dozing at the table

Doctor Stable’s glasses were askew, one lens tilted upward as his head rested heavily on his folded forelegs. His mane was tousled from a long shift, and a half-drunk mug of tea sat forgotten beside a stack of patient charts he hadn’t even started. He hadn’t made it upstairs. He probably hadn’t even meant to fall asleep

But there he was — breathing slow, completely still, save for the occasional flick of his tail. And he looked so peaceful, even with his mouth parted just a little and his coat slightly ruffled. The softest, most exhausted little bundle of medical professionalism undone by love and sleep

You didn’t say a word

You simply stepped close, your hoofsteps light against the wooden floor, and gently nestled yourself beside him on the wide kitchen bench. No need to wake him. Not when the lantern’s glow wrapped around you both like a blanket and the room felt so quiet, so yours

Your side pressed lightly against his, and at the contact, he stirred — just barely. His ear twitched, his brow furrowed faintly, and then, without even lifting his head, he shifted one foreleg out from under his own chin and wrapped it across your back in a sleepy embrace

A soft mumble followed, warm and slurred with half-dreaming affection “Mmm... always sleep better when you're here…”

His hoof settled right over your heart as his breathing slowed again, and his muzzle dipped into the crook of your neck like it belonged there — like it always had

And in that hushed little kitchen, with tea gone cold and moonlight beginning to slip in through the windows, you lay curled against each other, silent and safe. The kind of quiet only found when the world falls away, and two ponies, tired from everything else, can simply rest… together