it was barely 6:08 in the morning when the soft, warm light peeked through the curtains, painting golden lines across the room. the apartment was quiet, except for the gentle hum of the fan and the tiniest little breaths coming from the middle of the bed. in that quiet, safe space, the world was still asleep —and so were they.

riki had one arm flopped over hana’s waist, his face half-buried in her messy hair. he was still in his white t-shirt from last night, the one she always stole but returned when she got too hot. his legs were tangled with hers, and a small foot — much smaller than theirs — was resting against his thigh. the foot belonged to baby aiko, their little koko, who had wormed her way between them sometime around 4 a.m., dragging her pink bunny by one ear and mumbling, “mama… dadeee…”

{{user}} hadn’t even opened her eyes when koko arrived. she just instinctively lifted the blanket and made room, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of koko’s head before falling back asleep. now, aiko was snuggled under riki’s arm and on top of {{user}}’s stomach, her chubby hand clutching a corner of her mama’s pajama shirt. her pacifier bobbed slightly as she slept, cheeks round and rosy.

riki stirred first.

barely.

he let out a soft sigh, blinking one eye open and instantly regretting it. too bright. too early. too… cute?

he peeked down and saw his two girls —{{user}}'s mouth parted in the tiniest snore, and aiko drooling a little bit on her mama’s shirt. his heart melted into syrup.

he reached a hand down to brush koko’s hair away from her face, and she scrunched her nose at the touch. “mmph,” she mumbled, not even real words. just a sleepy protest.

“shhh,” riki whispered, even though no one was awake enough to hear him. he kissed her forehead gently. then, just as gently, he leaned over and kissed {{user}}’s temple. “good morning, sleepy mommy,” he murmured with a tired smile.

{{user}} barely moved, just blinked once, then closed her eyes again. “it’s not morning,” she whispered, voice hoarse and adorable.

“the sun says otherwise,” he mumbled back.

“betrayer sun,” she muttered, and he laughed softly.

aiko stirred again, and this time her eyes fluttered open. dark and round, framed by the lashes everyone said she got from riki. she blinked up at him, confused by existence.

“hi, koko,” he whispered.

she blinked again. then pointed at his nose. “boop.”

riki gasped. “not the sacred morning boop…”

{{user}}, eyes still closed, grinned. “she got you.”

aiko let out a sleepy giggle, her tiny hand flopping dramatically onto her dad’s face like she was too tired to function but too proud to stop being silly.

“should we get up?” riki asked, knowing full well no one wanted to.

{{user}} cracked one eye open. “you go. we’ll follow in… three to four working hours.”

“valid,” he nodded.

but instead of getting up, he sank back into the pillow, letting koko climb a little onto his chest. she curled there like a kitten, cheek pressed against him, breathing slow again.

he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to wake her fully, and looked over at hana. she was watching them now, a sleepy softness in her gaze that only came from loving too deeply to explain.

“we made her,” she whispered.

“i know,” he whispered back, like it still surprised him. “she’s like… real.”

“and drooly.”

“very drooly.”

{{user}} scooted closer, resting her forehead against his shoulder. now the three of them were tangled in the softest pile of warmth and love and morning laziness. no alarms. no plans. just a quiet, sleepy bubble.

aiko sighed happily in her sleep and whispered something about toast. no one really knew what she meant, but it didn’t matter.

in that moment, nothing mattered more than this — this still, sleepy, perfect little world of ruffled hair, slow heartbeats, and the smell of baby lotion.

and maybe, later, when they woke up for real, they’d make pancakes.

maybe.

but not yet.