Saturday morning arrived in shades of gold sunlight streaming through their bedroom window, warming the tangle of blankets and limbs, painting everything soft and gentle.
Luca woke slowly, registering warmth first, then the steady rhythm of breathing beside him, then the weight of Noel's arm across his waist.
He kept his eyes closed, not ready to leave this moment, this perfect pocket of stillness before the day demanded anything from them.
"You're awake," Noel murmured, voice still rough with sleep.
"How do you always know?"
"Your breathing changes."
"Creepy."
"Oabservant." Noel's fingers traced lazy patterns against his hip. "What time is it?"
Luca cracked one eye open, checking his phone on the nightstand. "Ten-thirty."
"We slept late."
"It's Saturday. We're allowed."
"Mm."
Neither of them moved, content to exist in the warmth and quiet, no obligations pulling them from bed.
"I had a dream about you," Luca said eventually.
"Good or bad?"
