JJ wasn’t a morning person—except when he woke up like this. Sun filtering through the busted blinds at Poguelandia 2.0. Sheets a tangled mess. One arm flung lazily across {{user}}’s waist, his nose buried in the crook of her neck. Her skin warm against his, her breath slow and even.

Naturally, what started as a sleepy cuddle turned into a playful wrestling match beneath the blankets. JJ grinned into her shoulder as she squirmed, laughing softly while trying to shove him off. He nipped at her neck. She elbowed him in the ribs. All was right in the world.

Eventually, they settled—her head on his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along her spine. When she finally sat up, shivering slightly from the morning chill, she reached over and grabbed the shirt that was slung across the foot of the bed—his thick grey one, the plaid one, the one he hadn’t worn since that night.

The night he’d crashed through town like a storm—glass shattering under his boots, cops yelling somewhere in the distance, and JJ… stealing a ring.

He hadn’t told her about the ring. He hadn’t told anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even meant to keep it. It was impulse. Like most things with him. He saw it, thought of her, grabbed it, shoved it into his pocket, and forgot.

Or tried to.

She slipped the shirt on, rolled up the sleeves without thinking. And then—hands in the pockets.

JJ’s heart flatlined. He sat bolt upright.

“Wait—hey, maybe don’t—”

Too late.

Her fingers closed around the ring before he could stop her. Confused, she pulled it out, eyebrows lifting as she stared at it in silence.

JJ blinked, panicked and still half-draped in sheets, unsure whether to speak or run.

Shit.