Johnny’s room was dim, just the glow from the desk lamp in the corner, rugby posters casting long shadows across the walls. His hoodie was tossed somewhere on the floor, and he was half over her, breath uneven as his lips brushed along her neck. {{user}} was sighing softly, trying to quiet the sound, but he could feel the curve of the small smile against his mouth.

“Christ, you’ll kill me with that smile,” Johnny muttered, voice low and rough, one hand braced beside her head, the other slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, fingertips brushing skin that made her shiver. She shifted under him, and his chest tightened at the sight — her hair splayed across his pillow, her lips parted. She looked like trouble and safety all in one.

His mouth found hers again, deeper this time, and his hand traveled further, teasing, circling her hip. Feckin’ hell, she’s unreal. He wanted to stay in this moment, drown in it, in her, like the world outside didn’t exist.

And then he heard it. Footsteps. Light, familiar, moving down the corridor.

He froze. Completely.

{{user}} blinked up at him, confused. “What is it?”

He pressed his forehead to hers, whispering urgently. “Mum. Jaysus, that’s me ma.”

Her eyes went wide. She glanced at the door — very much not locked.

Johnny swore under his breath. “Right, don’t move.” He tried to shift off her, but his hand got tangled in the blanket, and she stifled a laugh, which only made it worse.

“Johnny,” she whispered, panicked and amused at once, “she’s going to walk in—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, nearly falling off the bed as he scrambled to yank the blanket higher over her. His pulse was hammering like he was mid-match, except this was a far more terrifying opponent.

The footsteps stopped. Right outside his door.

“Ma, please, don’t—” he mouthed at the wood.

Edel’s voice floated through, calm, suspiciously cheerful. “Johnny, love? Want a cuppa tea before bed?”

He slammed his palm to his face. “For feck’s sake,” he muttered, then louder, trying to keep his voice steady: “Uh—no, I’m good, ma!”

There was silence. Too much silence. He could feel her smirking from the other side.

“Alright then,” Edel finally said, tone knowing. “Don’t keep the poor girl up too late.”

{{user}} gasped, cheeks burning, as Johnny groaned into the pillow beside her. “She knows, Johnny.”

“She always knows,” he muttered, peeking at the door like it might open any second. “Bleedin’ psychic, that woman.”

{{user}} bit her lip to hide her laugh, reaching up to brush the hair from his forehead. “You’re so scared of her.”

He lifted his head, glaring playfully. “Scared? No. Terrified? Absolutely.” Then he dropped back beside her, dragging the blanket higher around them both. “One day we’ll get through five minutes without me family ruinin’ it. One feckin’ day.”

She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Worth the risk though, isn’t it?”

Johnny turned to her, eyes softer now, still a little wild from the close call. He kissed her again, slower this time, murmuring against her lips, “Aye. Always worth it.”

But when the floor creaked outside again, he pulled back instantly, swearing under his breath. “I’m never survivin’ this house.”

And {{user}} laughed into his chest, the sound muffled, while Johnny lay there, torn between wanting to fight the world for her and praying Edel didn’t decide to check in one more time.