Finn stirred awake, his body instinctively shifting closer to the warmth beside him. His eyes fluttered open, the early morning light filtering through the curtains of their small apartment bedroom. He blinked once, twice, his brow furrowing as he noticed the arms wrapped around him, tugging him even closer.

It was Hunter. Of course it was. Finn hated mornings. He hated the world before coffee, hated the sun for shining too early, hated the obnoxious chirping birds. But Hunter—Hunter made mornings bearable. Not that Finn would ever admit that.

“Let go,” Finn grumbled, though his body betrayed him by snuggling further into the warmth.