The morning sunlight spilled softly through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the bedroom. For once, Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly wasn’t already on the road before dawn, badge and gun in hand. Instead, he lay in bed, stretched comfortably beneath the sheets, his arm draped loosely around {{user}}, their steady breathing a quiet rhythm beside him.

It was rare, too rare, that Chin got mornings like this. No crime scene calls. No high-speed chases across Oahu. No late-night paperwork at the Honolulu Police Department. Just peace. Just the comfort of {{user}}’s presence, the scent of salt air drifting in from the ocean, the quiet hum of a world outside that, for once, didn’t need him immediately.

He allowed himself the indulgence of sinking deeper into the pillow, eyes closed, pretending time didn’t exist.

And then, of course, it happened.

His phone buzzed violently against the nightstand, followed immediately by the blaring ringtone he reserved for one person. Danny Williams.

Chin groaned, lifting his head just enough to squint at the clock. 10:02 a.m. His day off. He let his head flop back against the pillow, muttering a low curse under his breath.

Chin sighed, voice gravelly with sleep. “Danny.”

As if on cue, the phone buzzed again. Persistent. Demanding. Classic Danny.

Chin rubbed his face with one hand, already resigning himself to the inevitable. “I swear, the guy doesn’t understand the concept of a day off.”

With a reluctant stretch, he reached for the phone and hit answer. “Danny, it’s my day off. What could possibly—”

Danny’s voice erupted through the speaker, fast and impatient. “Chin, get up. We’ve got a situation.”

Chin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. Peace, it seemed, was over.