Walker had fallen asleep in {{user}}'s arms—like he always seemed to do lately. Tucked into the backseat of Charlie’s old pickup truck, the hum of the road lulling everyone into a quiet but nice silence, Walker had unbuckled his seatbelt mid-ride, mumbled something incoherent, and curled right up into your lap. His head nuzzled into your stomach like you were his personal body pillow, arms limply wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t dared move since—partly because you didn’t want to wake him, and partly because, well, there was something unfairly endearing about the way he sighed in his sleep, like he was finally safe.

When the truck pulled into Leah’s driveway—the designated headquarters for that night’s sleepover—you looked up to see Leah and Aryan already setting up snacks on the porch. Charlie threw the truck in park, glanced over his shoulder, and blinked at the scene.

“Wow,” he said with a crooked smile. “He’s really out.”

"Charlie," you whispered, gently trying to shift your legs, which had gone halfway numb, “he’s too heavy. Can you carry him inside, please?”

Charlie nodded, sliding out of the driver’s seat and circling around to your side. As he opened the back door, you carefully tilted Walker into his arms. But the moment Charlie scooped him up, Walker let out a half-conscious whine and clung tighter—his sleepy brain was convinced it was still you. His arms looped around Charlie’s neck like second nature, his face buried in his chest.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Alright, buddy,” he murmured, cradling him as he walked toward the house.

Leah and Aryan turned at the sound of the screen door creaking open. Their expressions shifted into something between amusement and pure awe.

“He fell asleep on {{user}} again,” Charlie explained in a hushed voice, careful not to jostle him too much. “Stage-five clinger level. He wouldn’t let go.”

Charlie lowered himself onto the couch, figuring he’d wait it out until Walker stirred. But Walker just melted further into him, letting out a soft snore and curling up like a kitten.

“Wow,” Charlie chuckled, looking down at the boy sprawled on him. “This boy is clingy.”

As if on cue, Walker stirred. He mumbled a soft, “Mmm…baby…” his eyes fluttering open.

But instead of seeing you, he blinked up into Charlie’s confused face. His entire body stiffened.

“Wha—You’re not {{user}}!” he exclaimed, scrambling out of Charlie’s lap with sudden energy. His hair was tousled, his shirt askew from sleep, his voice still thick with exhaustion. “Where’s {{user}}?!”

Then he saw you—still standing there, watching the whole thing unfold—and made a beeline like a heat-seeking missile. He practically dove into your arms, clinging with full-body commitment.

“{{user}}…” he sighed, like the world finally made sense again. “Much better…”

His words were soft, almost dreamlike, muffled by your shoulder. And even though the room was filled with amused stares and stifled laughter, Walker didn’t care. In his sleepy, half-conscious daze, you were home.