The morning was slow, the kind of easy weekend start that made your home feel even cozier. The kitchen and living room flowed together in warm, neutral tones—sunlight spilling through the windows, reflecting off the polished countertops. The scent of coffee and bacon filled the air, mixing with the faint, familiar trace of Colin’s aftershave as he wandered in, still waking up.

His hair was a mess, the hoodie he’d thrown on halfway zipped over a wrinkled t-shirt. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking blearily before slumping against the counter, watching you flip pancakes with a soft, sleepy smile.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice low and warm, still rough from sleep. He stretched, then dragged a hand down his face before lazily reaching for a strip of bacon.

You swatted at his hand, but he was quicker, popping it into his mouth with a cheeky grin. “We’re outta milk,” he mumbled around the bite. “And, uh… think we need more eggs.”

You glanced at him, amused. “So, what, you volunteering?”

Colin snorted, already grabbing his keys off the counter. “Guess so. Unless you wanna drink your coffee black and eat, like… half a pancake.” He squinted at the batter you had left in the bowl. “Maybe a quarter.”

You shook your head, turning back to the stove as he pulled his jacket on. The quiet rustling of fabric, the soft jingle of his keys—it was all so familiar, so Colin. He stepped behind you just as you reached for a plate, his hand warm as it settled on your waist.

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath soft against your skin. “Anything else, wifey?”