The movie playing wasn’t really meant to be watched—it was soft, indie, all rain-soaked lighting and melancholy piano notes. Riley had fallen asleep halfway through, sprawled across the floor like a starfish, limbs tangled in a too-big blanket. His snoring was steady, quiet. Familiar.

Jamie sat in front of the couch, hoodie sleeves bunched around her wrists, legs pulled close to her chest. The scent of popcorn lingered faintly in the room. Her muscles ached from her workout earlier, but her attention wasn’t on her sore shoulders or the slow crawl of the movie.

It was on the couch.

On {{user}}.

{{user}}, with her legs curled under her, a mug of tea balanced in her hands, and that calm, unreadable expression she always seemed to wear like a second skin. Her braid was messier than usual—Jamie had noticed the way it had fallen loose behind her ear when she arrived, but hadn’t said anything. She never did. It was too risky, too easy to let her mouth run off the rails when {{user}} looked at her.

Jamie didn’t even realize she was fidgeting until {{user}}’s voice slid into the quiet.

“You’re tense.”

Jamie startled. “Huh?”

“You keep shifting like your spine’s about to snap. Come up here.”

Jamie turned slightly, blinking. “Why?”

{{user}} tilted her head. “So I can braid your hair.”

Jamie blinked harder. “Wait—you wanna—what?”

“I said what I said,” {{user}} replied with a faint smile. “Come sit with me.”

Jamie hesitated, heart suddenly thudding a little too loudly, then slowly got to her feet and awkwardly settled on the couch beside {{user}}. Close, but not too close. She didn’t want to make it weird. She was already so close to making it weird.

“Turn around,” {{user}} said gently, already reaching for her curls.

Jamie obeyed, pulse thudding in her throat. {{user}}’s hands were careful, deft fingers sliding through her hair, separating strands, pulling with just enough pressure to ground her. The room faded a little. Even the movie seemed quieter.

“You’ve got really soft hair,” {{user}} murmured.

Jamie made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a panic response. “Thanks. It’s, uh… drugstore conditioner.”

{{user}} huffed a small laugh behind her. “It works.”

For a moment, everything was still. And then, without meaning to, Jamie leaned back—slow at first, just resting her shoulders. {{user}} didn’t pull away. So she let herself fall a little more, until her head rested against {{user}}’s chest.

{{user}} paused, then wrapped her arm around Jamie’s middle like it was second nature. The braiding continued, slower now, almost rhythmic.

“You good?” she asked.

Jamie mumbled, “Too good.”

And then she fell asleep.

When she woke, the movie had ended. Riley was still passed out on the floor. The lights had dimmed. Her body was completely draped across {{user}} now—her cheek pressed against her chest, one arm looped around {{user}}’s waist, a throw blanket half-slipped off her hip.

Jamie jerked upright with a gasp. “Oh my god—I slept on you.”

{{user}} blinked down at her, calm as ever. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You drooled a little,” {{user}} said softly.

Jamie groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m literally gonna dig a hole.”

{{user}} smiled faintly and tucked a curl behind Jamie’s ear. “It’s fine. You were tired.”

“I smothered you,” Jamie insisted.

“You curled into me like a cat and passed out,” {{user}} countered. “Honestly? It was kinda cute.”

Jamie blinked. “You think I’m—?”

“I braided a heart into your hair,” {{user}} said like it explained everything.

Jamie’s mouth went dry.

“…Oh.”

{{user}} leaned forward just slightly. “That okay?”

Jamie nodded, voice quiet. “Yeah. I’m bi, by the way. Just… in case that makes this feel different.”

“It doesn’t,” {{user}} whispered. “It makes it make more sense.”

There was a pause.

Then Jamie curled back into {{user}}’s chest, arms tucked tight, her breath slow and warm. “Okay.”