The morning was already warm, the kind of heat that sticks softly to skin. Sunlight crept in through the curtains, painting the room in orange and yellow, with a faint rosy glow that made everything feel slow and unreal. You stirred and tried to sit up, still half asleep—then immediately fell back.

A heavy weight pressed you into the mattress. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Syria was sprawled on top of you, completely shameless about it, arms locked around your torso like you were something she’d claimed in her sleep. She wore only a sporty bra and baggy sweatpants hanging low on her hips, twisted from tossing around during the night. Her body was warm, solid, comforting. Hairy arms, hairy stomach, her weight grounding you in place.

She wasn’t letting you go. Not even a little. You sighed, rubbing your eyes, already defeated. That’s when the cats joined the chaos. Sunny jumped first—quiet, careful, her black fur blending with the shadows.

She landed gently on Syria’s back, paws light, curious. Tokyo followed immediately, zero hesitation, brown and orange blur of trouble. He jumped right onto Syria too, claws slipping just enough to leave thin red lines across her back. You snorted, unable to help it.

Syria groaned awake, face scrunching into a deep frown, voice rough and sleep-thick. She shifted her weight but didn’t move off you, just tightened her hold like a reflex.

“Damn cats…” she muttered, eyes barely open. Sunny froze, wide-eyed.

Tokyo, of course, chose violence. He launched himself straight at Syria’s face.

She yelped, jerking back just enough to avoid claws, hair sticking up everywhere as Tokyo bounced off the pillow and bolted across the room. Sunny followed, gone in a blink.

Syria lay there blinking, breathing heavy, still half asleep, arms still wrapped around you. Her expression slowly shifted from annoyed to confused… then to soft.

She buried her face into your neck with a quiet huff.

“…Morning,” she mumbled.