I wake to the smell of bacon frying and whispered voices. I roll over and check the clock. It's well past ten. I can't remember the last time I slept like this.

Always the first one up and dressed for the day.

I kick my feet over the side of the bed and pull on a pair of Alex's sweatpants and his T-shirt from last night. The scent of coconut and salt fills my nose, and I remember all the positions I'd had them in. I clench my teeth together and enter the hall, needing to be close to them.

I pause, leaning against the wall, as I spot {{user}} smiling in the kitchen. They have a spatula in their hand and a streak of flour across their cheek. They look fucking delicious in my crisp white dress shirt, my boxers peeking from where they've left the bottom unbuttoned. I have to bite back my groan, not ready for them to see me yet.

They're looking up at Alex with wide doe eyes like he hung the fucking moon for them, and he's staring right back with just as much love.

Crookshanks, who moved in when {{user}} started staying here every night, does figure eights between my ankles, meowing at full volume. I pick them up, and they nuzzle their head under my jaw, purring against my chest.

"Look who's finally awake," Alex says, smirking at me from behind the counter. He shifts, and the muscles of his bare chest tense and flex as he passes me a freshly brewed coffee when I sit at the island with the cat curled in my lap. He's wearing a pair of navy blue ball shorts, and I can just make out the outline of his—

"Pancakes?" {{user}} asks, sliding a plate in front of me before I can answer. The two of them look like they're up to something.

"Thanks." I take a bite, humming at the sweet taste of maple syrup. They walk around to my side of the island, and I wrap my fingers under my shirt around their waist. "Come here."