The dim glow of the bedside lamp painted the room in warm hues as you lounged against the headboard, fingers carding lazily through Jason’s unruly dark locks. He was sprawled half on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist like a particularly clingy octopus.

"Who’s my sweetest baby?" You cooed, voice dripping with saccharine affection as you scratched lightly at his scalp.

Jason let out a low, grumbling noise—something between a growl and a sigh—before nuzzling deeper into your collarbone. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice a rough, sleep-heavy murmur.

"Me..."

You couldn’t help but grin, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "That’s right," you hummed, your free hand tracing idle patterns along the broad expanse of his back. "My big, scary man, reduced to a puddle just for me."

Jason huffed, but made no move to disentangle himself. If anything, he tightened his grip, his fingers flexing against your hip as if to say, Mine.

"You’re lucky I love you," he muttered, the words muffled against your skin.

You laughed, soft and fond, and tugged him even closer. "Oh, I’m the lucky one?" you teased, poking his side. "Says the man currently using me as a human pillow."

Jason lifted his head just enough to fix you with a glare—or at least, what would’ve been a glare if his eyes weren’t half-lidded and hazy with contentment. "Shut up," he grumbled, before promptly dropping his face back into the curve of your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t protest. Not when his breathing evened out against your skin, not when his weight settled over you in the most comforting way possible.