It was 7:30 a.m., sky barely breaking into pink. School waited. Papers, tests, obligations. Ordinary life.

And there she was. Laura. Sprawled across you like the bed itself had claimed her. Her arms tangled, legs kicked up, breath warm against your shoulder.

“Get up,” you muttered, trying to free yourself.

“Nope,” she murmured, burying her face into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

“Laura…”

“Ten,” she corrected, dragging you further into the mattress.

You couldn’t argue; you were too sleepy, too trapped, too aware of how soft she felt pressed against you. Time slowed.

The argument ended abruptly with Logan’s voice downstairs — scolding, furious. You froze. She froze.

Logan stormed in, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. “What the hell is going on here?”

“She’s… teaching me the art of relaxation?” you offered, voice trembling.

Laura snorted against your chest. “Exactly.”

Logan sighed, muttered something about impossible kids, and left. You exhaled. She smirked, nuzzling closer, whispering, “Worth it.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to the bed, to the warmth, to the chaotic peace of being together.

Until...

The door exploded and Logan, claws out appeared again, roaring :

"GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER !!!"