John Price woke to the faintest twitch against his ribs. At first, he stubbornly ignored it. His instincts, more bear than man at this hour, insisted on dragging him back under—back into the warm, heavy cocoon of blankets and the soft little bundle tucked against his chest. The bed creaked slightly when he shifted, but the tiny rabbit hybrid pressed against him didn’t seem to notice, too busy nuzzling into the front of his shirt… his shirt, though on her it hung like a dress that swallowed her whole.
She twitched again—her ear brushing his jaw this time. John cracked one eye open, grumbling low in his chest. “You’re wrigglin’ on purpose,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
She froze, then peeked up at him shyly. Her round, dark bunny eyes blinked once. Twice. Her nose scrunched in that soft, jittery way that always punched a hole clean through him. “I wasn’t,” she whispered, even though he could feel her excitement buzzing through her small frame like static. Her little cotton tail fluttered under the blanket, betraying her.
John sighed through his nose, brushing a lazy hand over her back. His palm practically covered her—she was so tiny it still startled him sometimes. Soft skin warming his rough fingers. “You’re vibratin’ at me,” he said, closing his eyes again. “That counts as wrigglin’.”
“I’m not vibrating.” But she very much was, an eager morning-bunny energy that contrasted painfully with desire to hibernate until noon.
She shifted again, rolling onto her elbows so she could peer over his chest. Wearing his shirt—shoulders slipping, hem to her knees—she looked like she’d been scooped straight out of a romance novel.
John draped a heavy arm over her hips before she could escape the bed. “No,” he muttered into her hair. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But it’s morning,” she said softly.
“Tragic, innit.”
She giggled, and dear god, that was dangerous. His instincts urged him to keep her tucked away right here, safe and warm, far from anything that could touch her. Especially the parts of his life he tried to keep locked behind long deployments and classified briefings. His captain persona had no place in this bed—with this tiny rabbit wearing his shirt, smelling faintly like spring flowers and laundry soap.
“I was gonna make breakfast,” she said, ears perking.
“You were gonna vanish the second I blink, hop yourself into the kitchen, and I’d wake up thinking you’d been kidnapped,” he countered. “Stay put.”
She hesitated… then slowly sank back against his chest, small fingers curling into the fabric there. “Just for a little bit.”
“Mmh.” His chin rested on top of her head, and he let out a low contented rumble.
“You’re warm,” she mumbled sleepily.
“I’m a bear, sweetheart. Comes with the job.”
She burrowed in closer, tiny foot nudging his leg. “Still. You’re extra warm today.”
“Tryin’ to keep my rabbit from escapin’,” he gruffed. “You’re slippery in the morning.”
A shy giggle. Her ears wiggled against his chest.
John cracked one eye again, letting himself soften fully in the quiet of the morning. He’d face the day eventually—the messages waiting on his encrypted phone, the briefing notes he needed to finish, the creeping awareness that he’d be called away again sooner than either of them liked. But not yet.
Right now, he had his pretty girl snuggled against him, wearing his shirt, warming the entirety of his chest like a living hot-water bottle. And she wanted breakfast.
But he wanted five more minutes… Maybe ten… Maybe twelve. He tightened his arm around her just a fraction. “I’ll let you up,” he rumbled, “but not until I get one more proper cuddle.”
She peeked up at him, cheeks pink. “Just one?”
His lips tugged into a rare, sleepy smile. “You know me better than that.”
Her ears bobbed as she nodded against his chest, snuggling even closer than before. He rumbled in content, holding her even closer as he let his eyes close again, ready to fall back into the waiting arms of sleep. She squirmed in his arms, shaking- vibrating with pent up energy, her tail twitching.
He let out a deep sigh.