It was just you and Hesh... And Riley. No alarms, no missions, no plans. Just the soft rhythm of a lazy morning drifting into an even quieter afternoon. The sunlight spilled across the hardwood floor in golden patches, warming the living room where the two of you were curled up on the couch, your furry son huddled next to you.

Hesh was in a hoodie and joggers, a mess, one arm slung around your waist as you rested against him, half-covered by a throw blanket. A movie played quietly on the TV, forgotten. Neither of you had been watching it for a while.

“I could stay like this forever,” he mumbled against your hair, voice gravel-soft.

You hummed in agreement, cheek nestled against his chest. “You’d get bored.”

“Nope,” he said without hesitation. “Got everything I need right here.”

You smiled. That stupid little half-smile he always managed to pull out of you, even on your worst days. He noticed it too and tightened his hold just slightly, like he was afraid to let the moment slip by too fast.

His thumb traced lazy circles on your hip over the fabric of your shirt, grounding and sweet. No pressure. Just touch. Just him.

“Remember when I used to think love had to be this big, dramatic thing?” you asked quietly.

Hesh glanced down at you, his voice soft with a hint of a smirk. “What, you mean like standing in the rain, shouting declarations from rooftops?”

You giggled. “Exactly.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there a moment longer than necessary. “Turns out, love looks more like this,” he whispered. “Warm blanket, cold toes, you falling asleep on me during the third rewatch of the same movie.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you lied.

“You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Babe, it was adorable.”

You nudged his ribs, and he chuckled, kissing your temple again.