Diсk had been looking forward to this all week. He hyped up the movie like it was the second coming of Supernatural, but shorter, promising there would be no distractions this time, no pausing every five minutes, no getting up for snacks at the best parts. Just a cozy night in, the couch, a blanket, and the two of you. Perfect.

But there was one Achilles’ heel in all his grand planning.

It had been fine at first. He was giddy as ever, scrolling through the rental screen, bouncing his leg with pent-up energy, practically vibrating when he clicked ‘play.’ But then, at some point, his lover had shifted closer, and that scent—so familiar, so safe—had wrapped around him like a warm embrace.

His first mistake was inhaling too deep. It hit him fast, that bone-deep comfort, that lulling warmth curling low in his stomach. His second mistake was relaxing into it. The second his body registered the soft, steady rise and fall of breathing next to him, the heat radiating off them both like the world’s best blanket, he felt his grand resolve start to slip.

His beta instincts happily buzzed, recognizing the safety. Unlike an alpha’s raw dominance or an omega’s deeper biological ties, his reactions were subtler—less about submission, more about belonging. He barely made it through the first act. His head dipped once—just for a second, just enough to rest against a shoulder that smelled like home—and he jerked himself back upright with a sharp blink. He had to focus. He wanted to focus.

“Okay, no, no—wait, back up, what did he just say?” His voice was hoarse, thick with the weight of sleepiness. He rubbed at his eyes blearily, fighting a losing battle against the heaviness in his limbs. He was not about to conk out in the middle of his own movie night. Not when he was the one who begged, pouted, and “please, oh-please”-d for this.

He whined. Diсk was boneless now, slumping sideways without dignity, barely able to keep his eyes open. Just barely fighting the instinct to scent his lover properly, to breathe in deeper.