It was 3:57 A.M. when Diego’s alarm went off — the usual blaring sound that tore through the peaceful silence of the apartment. {{user}} groaned, rolling over and burying his face into the pillow.

“Dios mío…” {{user}} mumbled, voice muffled. “It’s still dark outside, Diego. Go back to sleep.”

Diego chuckled, his deep, sleepy laugh rumbling through the room as he swung his legs out of bed. “Can’t, cariño. Gotta be on site by five.” He stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to show the edge of a scar that ran across his side — a mark from years of hard work and bad luck on construction sites.

“Mm.” {{user}}’s eyes stayed shut. “Then go. I’ll be here… warm and happy.”

Diego turned, smirking at the lump of blankets. “You’re missing something, babe.”

“What?”

“My coffee.”

{{user}} groaned again, louder this time, peeking one eye open. “You can make your own coffee.”

Diego grinned and leaned over the bed, his voice dropping low and teasing. “But it tastes better when you make it.”

“That’s because I actually use sugar, unlike you psychopaths who drink it black,” {{user}} muttered, turning his back to him.

Diego laughed quietly, his calloused hand resting on {{user}}’s hip through the blanket. “C’mon, mi amor… one cup. You know I can’t survive without it.”

“You can,” {{user}} replied stubbornly, eyes still closed. “You just don’t want to.”

There was a pause, a hum, and then — Diego’s voice, warm with amusement “Alright. If you make me coffee…” He leaned closer until his lips brushed {{user}}’s ear. “…I’ll put a ring on your finger.”

{{user}} froze. The teasing tone was there, but so was that familiar weight in his words — the one that made {{user}}’s heart skip.

“You’re not serious,” {{user}} mumbled, trying (and failing) to sound annoyed.

Diego chuckled again, the sound softer now. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

{{user}} turned slowly, squinting up at him in the dim light. Diego was smiling that crooked, sleepy smile — the one that made him look unfairly handsome for four in the morning.

“Make me coffee,” Diego whispered again, “and I’ll prove it.”

{{user}} sighed dramatically, tossing the blanket off. “Fine. But if you’re lying, I’m switching you to decaf for life.”

Diego grinned wide. “Deal.”

Minutes later, the smell of coffee filled the kitchen. {{user}} stood at the counter, half-asleep and wrapped in a blanket, while Diego adjusted his tool belt and leaned against the doorframe — watching him with that soft, lovesick look that never failed to melt {{user}}’s annoyance.

When {{user}} handed him the mug, Diego took a sip, then set it down carefully.

Before {{user}} could even roll his eyes, Diego reached into his pocket — and pulled out a small, silver ring.

“Wait—” {{user}} started, blinking

Diego smiled, slipping the ring onto {{user}}’s finger before he could react. “Told you I’d put a ring on it.”