The sun had yet to rise when his eyes fluttered open. John recognised this time of night easily -- usually, it was accompanied by one of his boys, Henry or William, shaking him awake, whispering that they'd had a nightmare, or Katie had wet the bed, or Evelyn kept fussing.

But the room is silent, save for the sound of his breathing. He listens for yours -- that steady rise and fall of your chest, the sound you make when you move in your sleep. It’s enough to make him relax further into the mattress, even if it doesn’t help him go back to sleep.

John mumbled beneath his breath and turned to face you, pulling your body close to his. He didn't care if he woke you with his languid movements. For now, he simply wanted you body close, regardless if you woke or remained asleep.

He rests his head on top of yours, letting out a soft sigh through his nostrils. His eyes fell shut, yet sleep still evaded him. Just having you close would be enough to satiate him for now, but perhaps if you woke up with him, he would be a bit more grateful for waking up so early.