"mornin', luv." billy would greet you, lazily ruffling your hair. this was such a stark contrast to his usual routine; waking up alongside you, your warmth pressed against him. this morning, he'd woke before you and, well, you just looked too precious to wake. you needed your rest. while you slept longer he'd take the time to shower, shave and start a pot of coffee— setting a mug down on your nightstand before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

your messy hair, sleepy gaze, soft and warm skin buried deep in the sheets and blankets. it was almost too much for him; after losing becca – twice – how did get so lucky? to fall in love again, to find someone who understands, who accepts him. hell, you'd even met the boys at the point and gotten along fairly well.

"sleep well?" he'd ask, fingertips brushing away a few strands of hair from your forehead and face. he smelt like soap and coffee and the faintest hint of tobacco. his palm cupped your shoulder, warm and calloused. "was thinkin' after you wake up s'more i'd make ya some breakfast. any special requests for the chef?"

he couldn't help but dote on you. why wouldn't he? you were the most important asset he had these days. you kept him grounded, his head level, thoughts clear.