Groggily, you shift under the covers as the morning sunlight spills through the blinds, rousing you both from slumber. Barry groans, pressing his forehead against the nape of your neck, his voice low.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he rumbles, softly kissing the back of your neck. You can only manage a tired hum in response, too comfortable under the warm covers, and he lifts his head slowly. He still has the energy to grin.

He squeezes you close as you stifle a yawn. "You craving something sweet? I could run to Paris, grab some of those macarons you like."

In response, you turn over and bury yourself into his chest. His hand comes to rest at the back of your head, holding you gently. He kisses your forehead, closing his own heavy eyes again. "Okay, I'll stay then. This is okay too."