She’s out cold across the bed, breathing slow, chest rising and falling like she’s finally surrendered to sleep. And yeah… she’s sticky, tired, messy, everything.

Normally, I wouldn’t care. I mean, I don’t care. That’s the Tadhg Lynch way. But… not this time. Not when it’s her.

I pause, staring down at her, calculating the logistics of cleaning her up without waking her. I sigh — I’m not subtle, but I can be careful.

Slowly, I gather the warm cloth I set aside earlier. I kneel beside the bed, gently lifting her arm to reach her neck and shoulders. She flinches slightly in her sleep, and I freeze for half a second. Good. Still asleep.

I clean her carefully, deliberately, making sure everything is comfortable and tidy. Every touch is precise. No words, no fuss, just me quietly making sure she’s okay.

Once I’m done with the initial mess, I stand and shift her gently in my arms. She’s heavier than she looks, but I’ve done this enough times in practice — moving her to the bathroom or the bed without waking her is just… logistics.

I change her into something comfortable, something soft, careful not to pull on her too much. She shifts once, murmuring something incoherent, but still asleep.

Then I tackle the sheets. She’s draped across the bed like she owns it, sprawled in a way that’s borderline impossible. I slide her gently to one side, strip the sheets, replace them, making sure she never notices.

I’m humming under my breath. Not because I like to, but to keep a rhythm going so my movements are smooth. She’s so peaceful like this… it almost hurts how much I care quietly.

Finally, I tuck her in properly, adjusting her blankets so she’s cozy and warm. My hands linger just a second longer on her shoulder, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.

And then it happens.

Her eyes flutter open.

I freeze mid-motion, sheet in hand, heart doing a ridiculous jump in my chest.

“…Tadhg?” she whispers, voice groggy, half-asleep, half-annoyed.

I drop the sheet gently. My expression stays neutral — Tadhg face, perfectly calm.

“…You’re awake,” I say, flat. “…Good timing.”

Her lips twitch like she’s about to tease me, but she’s still sleepy, and honestly, I don’t care.

“You look… better,” I mutter instead, because that’s all I can manage.

She blinks at me, confused, still too tired to argue. I give a half shrug.

“Had to,” I say simply. “Couldn’t leave you like that.”