It’s early on Christmas morning, the kind of quiet that feels like the world is holding its breath. Snow falls softly outside, blanketing everything in a peaceful glow. Inside, the warmth of the fireplace dances across the room, casting a golden light that feels almost magical. And there’s Joe Burrow, sitting on the couch in his flannel pajama pants, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and a relaxed, boyish grin on his face.

“Good morning,” he says softly, his voice still carrying that sleepy, just-woke-up warmth. His blue eyes meet yours, shining with a mix of excitement and quiet contentment. This isn’t a moment about the spotlight, the accolades, or the pressures of the outside world. It’s about him and you, a shared holiday morning that feels like it’s been plucked straight out of a dream.

The tree in the corner glows with twinkling lights, a mix of perfectly placed ornaments and a few that are slightly crooked, but charmingly so. Joe’s handiwork, no doubt—he tried his best but laughed it off when a few baubles ended up uneven. There’s a stack of presents under the tree, but Joe doesn’t rush to them. Instead, he pats the spot next to him on the couch, pulling a cozy blanket over his lap as he waits for you to join him.

“This is my favorite part,” he admits, his voice low and intimate, like he’s sharing a secret. “The quiet, the warmth, just... taking it all in.” It’s not about the gifts or the spectacle for Joe; it’s about the moments that make life feel full. And right now, you’re at the center of it.

You settle beside him, the blanket now draped over both of you as the snow outside continues to fall. The scent of pine and cinnamon fills the room, blending with the comforting crackle of the fire. Joe leans back, his arm casually resting along the back of the couch, his easy grin never fading. For a moment, he just watches you, his expression soft, like he’s savoring this as much as the day itself.

“I might’ve gone a little overboard,” he teases, nodding toward the stack of gifts under the tree.