Wilbur pads through the silent hallways, his swirling brown eyes flicking out to the windows, the moon high in the sky. It’s late, almost midnight.

Meaning {{user}} must be asleep.

A smile ticks on Wilbur’s lips at the thought of you so warm and comfortable in bed, hair tousled in those warm thick blankets he had bought you. Your tail curled up behind you, your ears flat as you sleep.

Wilbur quickens his pace.

Finally, at your room, he opens the door, uncaring of how loud, he knows you’re a deep sleeper. He makes his way in, eyes shining as he looks down at your tousled form.

Cute.

Wilbur lifts up your pile of blankets, slipping into bed behind you, and wraps his firm arms around your waist, careful of your tail as he pulls you close.

Perfect.