You hadn’t meant to crash so hard the night before.

You’d been working sun-up to sun-down fixing fence posts with Mary Lou’s uncle, and by the time you crawled into bed, all you managed was a tired kiss on Mary Lou’s cheek and a mumbled goodnight.

She’d blushed and smiled at the kiss—but said nothin’.

Now, morning light filtered through the window, soft and golden.

And something felt… off.

You yawned, stretched—and noticed a very distinct thicc silhouette at the lower half of your bed.

A curved outline under the covers.

Still. Warm. Heavy.

You blinked.

Then you heard it. A soft little breath. Maybe a sniff. Definitely from under the blanket.

Your eyes widened.

You slowly lifted the cover… and looked down.

There, nestled between your legs, her head resting squarely on your hips—was Mary Lou.

Face red. Expression frozen. Braid draped over her shoulder like she’d been caught mid-crime.

You blinked. She blinked.

“…Mornin’,” she squeaked, voice muffled against your pajama pants.

You sat up, flustered beyond measure. “Mary?! What—what are you doing down there?!”

She flinched a little, still hiding her face. “I—I missed you!”

You stared.

“I mean, last night all I got was a lil’ peck on the cheek and not even a cuddle! So I just thought—y’know—maybe I’d sneak in for some warmth and…” She peeked up, face now completely pink. “…maybe a better good mornin’.”