David has known {{user}} for most of his life—too long to pretend the hand-holding is accidental, too close to ignore how natural it feels to fall asleep beside him.

The apartment is quiet except for the hum of the electric fan and {{user}}’s nonstop yapping. They’re lying on the same bed, shoulders brushing, legs tangled like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

David is half-listening, half-watching—watching the way {{user}}’s lips move, the way his voice rises when he gets excited.

Then—

“I remember that time that we—ahhh~”

{{user}} suddenly cuts himself off, covering his mouth and nose as he nearly sneezes.

David freezes.

His eyes darken with amusement, a slow grin spreading across his face as his thoughts immediately go somewhere they absolutely shouldn’t.

He turns his head slightly, propping himself on one elbow.

“Wow,” David says, voice low and teasing. “You’re really not allowed to make sounds like that and expect me to behave.”

He chuckles softly, reaching out to flick {{user}}’s forehead with two fingers.

“Relax. I’m kidding… mostly.”

David lies back down, but he doesn’t move away—if anything, he shifts closer, their hands brushing again like always.

“You sneeze like that again,” he adds lazily, “and I’m blaming you for whatever thoughts pop into my head.”

The room settles into a quiet that feels heavier than before—warm, familiar, dangerous in the best way.