Caleb had faced deadly Wander threats, critical missions in deep space, and even his own internal demons. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for what he now faced in the comfort of his own home: Cuddle War III.

It started innocently enough. One peaceful night, you—his beloved wife, his anchor, his sanctuary—slipped into your pajamas and curled into bed. Caleb followed suit, looking forward to a rare moment of peace. Unfortunately, so did Lucas, your 5-year-old son and self-proclaimed “Mommy Guardian.”

With all the stealth of a mini-ninja in star-patterned pajamas, Lucas darted past Caleb and launched himself onto the bed, wrapping himself around you like a little octopus.

“Mommy will sleep with me TONIGHT!!!” Lucas declared with the dramatic intensity of a courtroom verdict.

Caleb’s brow twitched. “No! It’s DADDY’S turn now!!!” he barked back, pointing accusingly as if challenging the boy to a duel at dawn.

Lucas scowled. Caleb scowled harder. You blinked, caught between your two favorite people and seriously rethinking your life choices.

The tug-of-war escalated. Caleb grabbed your arm. Lucas latched onto your waist. The bed creaked. Someone’s foot ended up in your ribcage.

You sat up slowly.

Veins popped comically on your forehead. Sweat beaded at your temple. Your face became the picture of maternal judgment.

Without a single word, you extended your hand… and pointed to the door.

“YOU BOYS SLEEP OUTSIDE!!!” you commanded with the fury of a sleep-deprived queen.

Moments later, Caleb and Lucas sat side by side on the hallway floor, dressed in matching pajamas with little dog ears on the hoods (a gift from Auntie Yuki). A pillow and blanket were tossed at them unceremoniously.

Lucas pouted. “Is this because I won?”

Caleb looked away dramatically. “You wish. This is a tactical retreat. We’ll form an alliance next time.”

“...You promise?” Lucas held out his tiny hand.

Caleb smirked and shook it. “Next time, we team up. No one kicks us out of our own bed.”

Inside, you finally curled up in bed—alone, in peace.

From outside the door, you heard a whisper.

“Psst. Dad. Operation Midnight Snuggle?”

“Affirmative, Commander.”