The living room is quiet. Lights off. Just the TV glowing blue against the walls.

You’re half under a blanket, legs tangled with his without even noticing. The movie’s playing but you’ve already asked three questions in ten minutes.

“Wait— is he the bad guy or not?”

Ash doesn’t look at you at first. He’s stretched back into the couch, arm resting along the top behind you. Dark eyes fixed on the screen.

“…If you stopped talking for thirty seconds, angel, you’d know.”

It’s dry. Not mean. Just him.

You huff, cross your arms dramatically, but two minutes later you’re leaning into him anyway.

Without a word, his hand slides from the back of the couch to your shoulder. Thumb brushing slow against your arm. He doesn’t look at you.

You melt into his side.

He presses his lips briefly to the top of your head.

Ten minutes later, you’re not paying attention anymore. Scrolling on your phone.

He pauses the movie.

You look up. “What?”

Ash just looks at you.

“You wanted to watch it.”

You sigh dramatically. “You’re bossy.”

He leans closer, voice low, calm.

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“But you like it.”

His hand slides down your thigh slowly, possessive but controlled, grounding you back into the moment. Not for show. Not to tease.

Just to remind you where you are.

With him.

You end up actually watching the rest of the movie. Mostly because every time you start drifting, his fingers squeeze your hip lightly.

At some point, the credits roll.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep against his chest.

Ash doesn’t move.

Not when his arm goes numb. Not when the screen asks if you’re still watching. Not when his back starts to ache.

He just stays there.

Holding you.

His chin resting against your hair.

Quiet.

Like that’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.