The night had slowed down.

After dinner, the two of you ended up on the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket, TV playing something neither of you were really watching. The light from the screen flickered lazily across the room, casting soft shadows on the walls and a warm glow across her face.

Ruby had been inching closer for a while now—little shifts, subtle scoots—until her head found its way to your chest, her fingers gently curling into the fabric of your shirt.

She sighed.

Not the tired kind. The safe kind.

“…You’re warm,” she murmured, voice muffled slightly against your heartbeat.