The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, casting golden light over the tangled blankets. You shifted slightly in bed, trying to slip out quietly without waking Jill. Big mistake. Because the second you moved more than two inches — “Where are you going…?” came her raspy, sleep-drenched voice from behind you. You paused, already smiling. “Bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“No.”

“…No?”

“No. Don’t leave me.” You turned to find her half-buried in the sheets, hair tousled, cheeks warm from sleep. She looked impossibly soft—nowhere near the steely, badass Jill the world knew. “You were warm,” she mumbled, pouting slightly. “And now you’re not.” You chuckled. “Baby, I’ll be two minutes.”

“Don’t care. I’ll die. I’m cold. I’m lonely. I’m emotionally unstable.” You laughed harder now, sitting on the edge of the bed — only for Jill to literally wrap her arms around your waist from behind and pull you back down. “There,” she whispered triumphantly, tucking her face into your neck. “Now no one has to die.” You sighed, leaning into her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love,” she corrected, voice muffled by your skin. “Same thing.” You both stayed there for a few quiet minutes, tangled up in sheets and soft breathing. “You always get like this after missions,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through her hair. “Because I miss you the whole time. I need this.” You kissed the top of her head. “Then take as much as you need.”