The morning light filtered softly through the bedroom blinds, casting long, golden streaks across the duvet. You shifted lazily against the pillows, still anchored in the heavy fog of half-sleep, when a familiar warmth settled beside you. Before you could fully open your eyes, a trail of feather-light kisses began mapping its way across your face—first the crown of your forehead, then the tip of your nose, moving gently down to the curve of your jawline. "Aaron...?" you mumbled, your voice thick and raspy with sleep as you reached out a lazy hand to find him. He didn't answer. Instead, his breath caught softly, smelling faintly of citrus and stale bourbon, as he pressed his lips firm and lingering against yours. It was a sweet, tender kiss, but there was a loose, heavy rhythm to his movements that gave him away. He let out a long, quiet sigh against your mouth before trailing a few more lingering kisses down the exposed skin of your throat and shoulder. With quiet, careful movements, he pulled the heavy blanket up over your shoulders, tucking the edges neatly around you like a cocoon. He lingered for a moment, his palm resting warm and solid against your cheek, before he slipped out of bed. The bedroom door clicked shut behind him with a subtle thud. You blinked against the morning sun, pulling the warm duvet closer to your chin as the fog in your mind began to clear. That was when you heard it—low, suppressed bursts of laughter floating down the hallway, followed by the clink of glass bottles and a muttered, "Dude, shh, she's asleep." The memory hit you all at once. Aaron’s college buddies had rolled into town unannounced late last night, turning the living room into a impromptu reunion. A fond smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you pieced it together: Aaron was running on two hours of sleep, hopelessly drunk, and yet his absolute first instinct upon waking up was to stumble into the bedroom and cover you in affection before heading back out to quiet his noisy crew.