The morning sun filtered through the firehouse windows, painting the room in soft, golden hues. You stirred slowly, blinking against the light, only to realize you weren’t alone. Rob’s arms were draped around you, holding you close, his chest warm against your back.

Your heart skipped a beat. You had fallen asleep wrapped together after a long night of talking, laughing, and just existing in the rare, quiet moments when the firehouse felt safe from everything else.

Rob shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine. “Morning,” he murmured, voice husky with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your lips brushing against his shoulder as you turned slightly to face him. The world outside could wait—you had this moment, this closeness, and it was enough.

You snuggled deeper into him, inhaling the familiar scent of smoke and him—a combination that was uniquely Rob. His fingers traced small, absent-minded circles on your arm, grounding you in the warmth and quiet of the morning.

“You stayed up too late again,” you teased lightly, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“I couldn’t help it,” he admitted, eyes soft and earnest. “There’s something about these quiet mornings with you… I don’t want to waste a single one.”

Your chest warmed at his words. “Me neither,” you said, smiling softly. “It’s like the world disappears, just for a little while. And I… I don’t want it to ever end.”

Rob shifted so he was facing you now, one hand cradling your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Then we won’t let it end,” he whispered, eyes burning with something deeper than desire—something like love, commitment, and vulnerability all mixed together.

You leaned into his touch, letting your foreheads press together. “Promise?” you asked softly.

“I promise,” he said, voice low and steady. “Quiet mornings, loud nights… every moment I get with you. I promise.”