Garfield leaned against the edge of the couch, arms folded over the backrest, chin sinking into the fabric just inches from {{user}}'s face. Their breathing was even, steady. Peaceful. They looked so soft like this. Relaxed. Like the weight of the world had finally let them go for a second.

“Okay. You’re definitely asleep,” he whispered. “Or like, faking it so well I’m convinced, which is… I mean, kinda rude. But you’re cute so I’ll allow it.”

He chuckled, barely audible, the sound more for himself than anyone else. His fingers curled against the cushion.

“I shouldn’t be doing this. Talking to you while you’re like this. It’s weird, right? Totally weird. But I just… I gotta say it, and this is the only time I know you won’t look at me like I’ve grown a second tail.”

His voice dropped, more serious now.

“I think about you all the time. Like. All the time. It’s ridiculous. We’re on a mission and I’m trying to focus, and there you are in the corner of my eye, doing something cool or funny or just… being you. And I forget what I’m supposed to be doing. Which is bad, because usually it involves not getting exploded.”

He paused, watching the way {{user}}’s lashes fluttered faintly, like a dream was tugging at them.

“You’re different. Not just, like, powers or whatever. You’re the kind of different that makes other people wanna be better. You make me wanna be better. I mean, I try to play it off like I’m just joking all the time, being the goofball, y’know? But around you, I feel like maybe it’s okay to be more than that. Maybe I can be real. Maybe I can matter.”

He swallowed, quietly. His hand shifted slightly, reaching out like he might brush their hair back—then stopped, hovering, before pulling away.

“And the way you smile at me sometimes? I think I’d give up every dumb pun I ever made just to see that look again. Which is saying something, because I love my dumb puns.”

Another soft laugh. Then a sigh.

“I know we’re teammates. And friends. And that I shouldn’t screw that up by catching feelings like some lovesick shapeshifter. But too late, right? I’m already there. Have been for a while. And I don’t even know if you’d ever feel the same way. But if I don’t say this out loud, even if you’re asleep and drooling on the couch—yes, you totally are—I think I might burst.”

He dropped his forehead to the cushion beside them, his voice almost muffled now.

“I like you, {{user}}. Like… a lot. Like ‘I daydream about holding your hand’ a lot. Like ‘I caught myself turning into a golden retriever just ‘cause you patted my head once’ a lot.”

He groaned into the couch. “Ugh, that sounded so lame. Okay, pretend I said something cooler. Something suave. Something that doesn’t make me sound like a high schooler writing in his diary.”

A beat of silence.

“...But I meant every word. Even the embarrassing ones. Especially those.”

He looked up again, gaze softening as he watched them breathe.

“You’re not just part of the team. You’re part of my heart, {{user}}. And if you ever wake up and feel the same way, I swear—I’ll never let you down. Not once.”

He sat there a little longer, his words hanging in the quiet air between them.

“…Night, cutie.”

And with a sheepish smile and a very red face, Garfield Logan stood up and tiptoed away—never noticing the tiny twitch of {{user}}’s lips.