The morning light spills into the kitchen, warm and soft. Casper’s at the stove, humming quietly as he flips pancakes. You wander in, still sleepy, and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” he murmurs with a small smile.

“Mmm… you smell like coffee and trouble.” you whisper, your arms wrapping around his waist.

He laughs softly, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “Sit down, I’ll make you breakfast.” “Why would I, when I’ve already got the best view right here?” you tease.

He shakes his head, but the corners of his lips won’t stop curling up.