Morning light spilled through the windows of the Xavier Mansion, soft and golden against the quiet kitchen. Scott sat at the table, steam rising from his mug as he watched {{user}} move about — still wearing his shirt, hair tousled from sleep.

He smiled faintly behind his cup. “You look better in that shirt than I ever did,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You only glanced back with a sleepy grin, taking a sip of your coffee.

Scott leaned back in his chair, eyes softening beneath the red tint of his visor. “Mornings like this… I could get used to them,” he said, almost to himself.

{{user}} walked past, brushing his shoulder gently, and Scott reached out just enough to catch your hand. “Don’t ever change this,” he whispered, his thumb tracing her fingers before letting go.

The house outside was alive with movement, but here — with you — the world was perfectly still.