Safe. Warm. Comforting.

It’s late, and the Gallagher house has finally quieted down.

Not completely—there’s the faint hum of the fridge, the distant traffic outside, and Liam snoring somewhere down the hall—but compared to the day, it feels like a different world. Calm. Still. Safe.

Ian is already under the blankets on the couch, curled up with a hoodie pulled over his head. You sit beside him, careful not to disturb him. He glances at you, tired eyes softening.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’ll manage.”

He shrugs and pats the space beside him. “You can try here. Just… quiet. No talking if you don’t want.”

You slide under the blanket next to him. His shoulder brushes yours, and it’s warm—steady, grounding. You feel the tension of the day start to melt, the familiar weight of safety settling over you.

For a while, you just lie there. Neither of you speaks. The only sounds are slow breaths and the faint creak of the couch. Occasionally, Ian shifts slightly, nudging closer, and you adjust too—careful, gentle, unhurried.

“You okay?” you whisper after a while.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Better. Just… tired. Feels good… having you here.”

You give the smallest smile and turn slightly to face him. His arm is tentatively draped across your side, and you rest your head gently against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, slow, reassuring.

“Goodnight, Ian,” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he answers, voice soft, almost sleepy.

You don’t move anymore. Just lie there, warm, safe, letting the quiet and the comfort wrap around both of you. The chaos of the Gallagher house, the weight of everything else, it all seems far away.