Clyde was draped over your chest, half asleep with his hearing aid out on your desk. You ran your fingers through his hair as he rambled about whatever was on his mind.

He couldn’t hear your comments, but he could feel each time you spoke, mostly just quiet agreements or encouragement.

You said something a little longer and watched his brow furrow, the gorgeous way he lifted his head up glower at you, knowing he couldn’t hear you.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked, knowing you just wanted to admire at his face.