The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but you were already awake, sitting on the couch in the living room, enjoying the quiet before the day truly began. Living under the same roof with Rick had become a routine—one that came with its own set of unexpected moments.

The sound of a door creaking open caught your attention. Turning your head slightly, you saw Rick emerging from his room, barefoot, his hair a mess of waves that only added to his half-asleep look. His gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen, leaving his toned torso exposed to the dim morning light.

He stretched lazily, rubbing a hand over his face as he walked past you toward the kitchen, but the movement made something else… noticeable. It wasn’t something he was trying to hide, either—not in the way his sweatpants left little to the imagination.

“You’re up early,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he grabbed a cup from the counter.

You smirked, crossing your arms. “So are you.” Your gaze flickered downward for just a second before meeting his eyes again. “Sleep well?”

Rick huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he filled his cup with water. “Yeah, sure,” he said, though the way he shifted his weight slightly, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants, told a different story.

You tilted your head, leaning against the armrest of the couch. “Huh. Guess you had an interesting dream.”

He turned his head slightly, giving you a slow, knowing look before taking a sip of his drink. Then, without warning, he stepped closer, standing near the couch—too close. The warmth of his body was almost tangible, and the subtle smirk playing on his lips was nothing short of dangerous.

“Maybe,” he finally said, his voice lower now, teasing. “Or maybe wakin’ up next to you {{user}} every day is the real problem.”