You and Rafe had been together long enough that staying the night at his place had become second nature. It didn’t matter if the day before had been uneventful no dates, no parties, no grand plans. Just being near him was enough. His space felt like home now, his bed a place where your limbs naturally tangled together, where silence felt full instead of empty.

Normally, he was the one who rose first. He liked to stretch and sigh dramatically, smirking down at you still wrapped in blankets like a cocoon, playfully teasing you for being, in his words, “a professional sleeper.” But this morning was different.

You blinked awake to a soft light filtering through the curtains and the quiet hum of a still house. For once, Rafe was the one sleeping soundly beside you, his breathing slow and even, chest rising and falling in that calm rhythm you loved. Careful not to wake him, you’d rolled over, propped yourself up against the pillows, and scrolled through TikToks on mute, trying and failing not to laugh too loudly at the ones that caught you off guard.

Then, suddenly, a warm hand slipped across your waist, fingers splaying lazily over your stomach. You froze for a second, glancing back. His eyes were still closed, but his voice came low and groggy, thick with sleep.

“What got ya so interested, mh?”

You smiled, heart tugging at the sleepy rasp in his tone.

“I’m watching TikToks,” you whispered.

He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that was more content than tired. His body pressed closer, nose nuzzling against the curve of your neck, breath warm on your skin.

“Mhm, of course you are…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he pulled you into him like you were something he dreamt about and didn’t want to let go of.