#Roger's demeanor and just the way he is on stage is just very attractive to me he's just sooooooooooooooooo dreamy *sighs*

[hellogoodbyegirl]

Roger Hodgson of Supertramp performing 'Asylum' in Paris '79

[louhooo]

Hello My Old Heart | Chap. 15

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU]

Warnings: FLUFF!!!!!

A/N: The end is finally here!! I’ve loved this story and I love that others have loved it just as much!!! IT MAKES ME SO 😭🥺😭 Feedback is always loved and appreciated 💘

Three years later...

“Miss Y/N?” You hummed, glancing up from the worksheet in front of MJ and looking at her. “That guy over there is staring at you.” You followed her eyes to the other side of the lunch room, where a tall, blue-eyed brunet stood, his eyes already locked on you. 

You grinned and pushed yourself up from the table.

“Thanks, MJ—”

“It’s kinda creepy. Do ya want me to take care of him? I just got my yellow belt in karate.” You laughed softly and shook your head. 

“That’s alright,” you winked, “I know his weak spots.”

“Okay…” she murmured, unconvinced by your dismissal of her offer. You left the table of kids to finish coloring their pictures and walked over to him.

“I just saved you from an eight-year-old with her yellow belt, ya know?”

“You didn’t wake me up this morning before you left.” You grinned and sighed softly, placing your hand on his forearm.

“You got home late and you needed to sleep.” Bucky gave you another unimpressed look. “Don’t give me that look. And uncross your arms. I know you’re not really mad.” Bucky’s demeanor shifted, and he sighed, his arms dropping to his sides.

“I didn’t get a kiss this morning…” He whined quietly, a pout on his face. You rolled your eyes good naturedly and grabbed his hand.

“C’mon…” You glanced around the lunch room, making sure that the other adults had the second-graders covered, and dragged Bucky down the hall towards the break room. You turned the handle and walked into the empty room that still smelled faintly of coffee from this morning, and pulled Bucky in, shutting the door behind him. You smiled at him. “You get one kiss.” 

He smiled back, wrapping his hands around your hips and pulling you closer to him as he captured your lips. His scruff scratched against your hands wonderfully, and you leaned more into him, realizing that, maybe, you needed a kiss this morning, too. You hummed and placed a final chaste kiss on his lips, “Better?” He gave you a dopey grin and nodded.

“Mm-hmm. I’m not mad anymore.” You snorted and dropped your hands to his forearms. His hands moved to your round stomach and he rubbed his hand over the fabric of your shirt. “How’re you feelin’?”

You hummed and looked down at your belly. “He’s very comfortable on my bladder today. I’ve hadta pee about ten times since I got here.” Bucky sighed and you looked at him, but he kept his eyes on your stomach.

“Dude… I thought we talked about this.” You laughed, attracting Bucky’s attention, who looked back at you with a grin. “Do you want me to have another father-son talk with him tonight?” 

It took Bucky a long time to get to this point; the point where he could enjoy the pregnancy and not worry over everything that happened to you. Truthfully, it took you a while, too, but you knew two stressed out parents wasn’t going to help, especially when your doctor had assured you that everything about your pregnancy was normal. 

Healthy and normal.

Once you found out you were having a boy, and were further along than your last pregnancy, Bucky started to relax. 

If only a little.

He still rushed to call the doctor each time you had any type of discomfort, even if you assured him it was just indigestion, and you still found him Googling every doubt he had, late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

The only thing that hadn’t changed since you found out you were pregnant, were the talks he’d have with your stomach every night (and some mornings when he’d spent too much time reading about all the terrible things that could happen and couldn’t fall back asleep).

The mornings when you pretended to still be asleep were your favorite talks. Bucky opened his heart, letting all of his fears and worries seep out as he whispered his love for your unborn baby in your belly.

“Would you?” Bucky grinned and rubbed his thumb over your belly. He slid his hands back around you, settling on your lower back, and leaned in and kissed your lips just as the door burst open. You both jumped and looked over at MJ, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. Bucky quickly dropped his hands from your ass and you walked over to her.

“Were you kis—”

“Okay, let’s go see if everything’s set up for the presentation!” You ushered her out and back towards the lunch room. The kids were starting to get situated in rows on the floor near the small stage at the front of the room. “Oh, you better find a spot!” She eyed you skeptically, but did as she was told, choosing to sit next to Peter in the last row. 

Steve, Clint, and now Bucky, were off the side of the room, pulling their gear from their bags. 

You walked over to them and smiled. “Hey, guys! Thanks again for doing this! I know the kids are excited.” Clint chuckled and looked over at you.

“Yeah, kinda hard to say ‘no’ when your husband threatened us if we didn’t do it.” Your raised your brows and you glanced at Bucky, whose eyes were wide as he shot a look to Clint.

“I didn’t do anything!” You hummed and Bucky looked back at you. “I didn’t!” You hummed again, a small grin on your face that convinced Bucky you didn’t believe him in the slightest. Steve chuckled and pulled out a reel of reflective stickers for after the presentation.

“We’re happy to do it, Sunshine.” You grinned at Steve and laid your hand over your stomach. “But Buck definitely threatened us.” Bucky scoffed disbelievingly at his so called “friend”. You giggled as Bucky stared down the blond. “Oh, and don’t let me forget: I’ve got the swing in the back of my truck, so I’ll load it into your car before we leave.”

“Oh, good! I might have you put in Buck’s truck, though. My trunk is still full of the baby clothes you guys gave us.” You grimaced as Steve chuckled at you. “It’s okay. We gave ya a lot.”

“And Bucky won’t even let me carry the clothes in by myself.” Bucky gave you a faux-offended look that slowly turned into a grin. 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” You giggled and rubbed his back.

“I’m gonna go introduce you guys, so we can get started.” Bucky nodded and watched you as you made your way up on the small platform. You held up your hand, signaling for everyone to quiet down and listen to you. You waited until all the kids were quiet, each holding up a hand to show they were watching you. You smiled and put your hand down. “I know you’re all excited to hear from our guests today, so I’ll be quick,” you waved the guys up on stage. “Let’s all welcome my friends, and I’ll let Captain Rogers take it from here!” You smiled at Steve and stepped off the stage, moving to the side with the other teachers and aides.

Steve smiled at the kids, “Hi, everyone! So, I’m Captain Steve Rogers and I help run the fire department here in Esterwind,” he looked over at Bucky.

“And I’m Lieutenant James Barnes.”

“And I’m Lieutenant Clint Barton.”

Steve gave a passionate presentation on fire safety (Sharon had warned you that you may have to cut him off if he went on for too long) and Bucky and Clint acted as perfect assistants, who helped demonstrate what they needed to do when there was a fire, and how quickly they could put on their gear when there was a call.

After thirty minutes of Steve talking, you caught his attention and signaled for him to start wrapping up.

“Oh, looks like I’ve gotta stop talking. Okay, real quick before we do any questions, I want you guys to tell me what you do if there’s a fire?”

“Get down low, and go, go, go!” The kids bellowed back to Steve. He smiled and gave two big thumbs up and you came back to the stage to direct questions.

“Okay, we can do a few questions before they have to leave.” Almost every hand shot up. The guys chuckled and you started selecting kids for questions. Most of the questions were “what would’s” and “what-ifs”, but the guys handled them with ease. 

You noticed MJ kept her hand up the entire time, so you decided she could be the last question.

“This is for Lieutenant Barnes.” Bucky’s ears perked at the sound of his name, and he quickly found the source of the question. “Why were you kissing Miss Y/N?” The other kids all squealed and laughed as your cheeks started to burn. Bucky’s eyes went wide and he quickly looked at you as Steve and Clint bit back laughs.

“Oh, uh, I, uh, I…” You groaned softly to yourself, accepting that MJ hadn’t bought your distraction earlier, and cleared your throat.

“MJ, Lieutenant Barnes and I are married.” The kids “ooo’d” and you cringed internally. “Alright, let’s thank our guests for coming today!” You quickly rushed through, hoping that the kids would stop squealing over the fact that MJ had seen you and Bucky kiss. The teachers rounded up the kids in their classes’ and the commotion subtlety shifted as the kids walked back to their homerooms to hand out the stickers that Steve brought. 

Hopefully, the excitement of Miss Y/N kissing someone at school wouldn’t last through the end of the day.

You pulled into the drive, and Bucky’s truck was already parked. You turned off your car and slowly pushed yourself out and waddled up the steps into the house. You expected to see Bucky half-asleep on the couch, but he wasn’t. You heard music upstairs and slowly made your ascent, setting your bag on the bench near the door.

You walked down the hall to find the nursery door open, with Bucky sitting on the floor, putting together the crib. You leaned against the doorframe and watched with a warm grin. He let out a long sigh and scratched his head as he looked at the pieces in front of him. Now, where did that piece go? 

“Directions are usually helpful.” Bucky’s head snapped back around as you smiled at him. “Probably why they give ‘em to you.” Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes.

“I think I can handle it, babe.” You hummed and moved into the room, slowly bending to pick up the instructions on the floor before sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. You laid the booklet on your belly as you skimmed through it. Bucky turned the music on his phone off and walked on his knees until he was in front of you.

“You sure about that?” Bucky snatched the directions from your hands, his eyes wide and a grin spread across his face.

“Yes, dear, I am.” He tossed the directions back on the floor and sat on his knees in between your legs, tenderly gripping your thighs. You grinned and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “How was the rest of your day?” You hummed and ran your fingers through his hair, staring at the brown locks in between your fingers.

“You need a haircut soon.” You murmured softly, running your fingers through once more before looking at him. “It was good. The kids finally stopped talking about ‘Miss Y/N kissing the firefighter’ by the end of the day, so hopefully no parents’ call tonight.” He laughed as you leaned back in the rocker, smiling warmly at him. “How was yours? Did you get a nap in?”

“Nah, I didn’t have the time. Had to go trim some of the brush up at the Grove, and then I came back here.” Bucky sighed and looked back at the crib, tilting his head. “Does that piece look backwards to you?” You tilted your head, mirroring Bucky, and looked at the rail and headboard he had finished assembling.

“Kinda.” Bucky sighed again, and dropped his shoulders in defeat. “It’s okay! He won’t need a crib for a few months anyways! We’ve got time, honey.” Bucky looked back you to see a warm and patient smile on your face.

“No, I’m gonna get it done before he’s here. I told ya I would, so I will.”

“Can I help you, at least? I don’t want you stressing yourself out over it.”

“Deal.” You grinned at one another until you were interrupted by Bucky’s phone ringing. He groaned and pulled it out of his back pocket. 

“Who is it?”

He glanced at the screen, “Steve.” You nodded in acknowledgment as Bucky answered. “Hey, Steve.” He moved so he was sitting beside your legs. “Oh, uh, yeah, I didn’t ask.” Your brows pinched as you listened in. “’Cause I know she won’t want to.” You nudged your foot against Bucky so that he’d look at you.

“Are you talking about me?” You spoke softly.

“Hold on,” Bucky sighed and held the phone away from his mouth. “Everyone’s going to Peg’s for dinner. I told Steve you wouldn’t wanna go ‘cause you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired. We can go!” Bucky didn’t say anything as he stared at you, his brow slowly arching.

“…You’re sure?” You were getting less and less sleep every night, your stomach too big to get comfortable enough to sleep peacefully. You gave him a soft look.

“Yes, Buck. I’m sure.”

“You’re not tired?”

“I’m 40 weeks pregnant; I’m always tired.” Bucky kept his brow raised, and you sighed. “I’m gonna change. Tell Steve we’ll just hang out with Sharon and Eli. She texted me that she found some more clothes she wants me to look through.” You pushed yourself up and stepped around Bucky and walked down the hall to your bedroom so you could change.

Bucky sighed and put the phone back to his ear.

“She wants to go,” Steve laughed, “I guess Sharon texted her that she found more baby clothes, so we’ll just hang out at your house until dinner.”

“I told you she’d wanna go.”

“I know…. Silly me for thinking she’d wanna rest.” Bucky rubbed his hand over his face.

“James.” He hummed and turned his head over his shoulder to look at you in the doorway. “I don’t think we should go tonight.”

“You don’? Why’dya change your—”

“My water broke.”

Bucky blinked.

Your water broke.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Change of plans. We’re not goin’ tonight. Uh, Y/N’s water just broke, so I gotta go.” Steve started exclaiming as Bucky ended the call and quickly scrambled to stand and helped you walk down the stairs. He grabbed the go bag in the coat closet as you grabbed your purse. His grip tightened on the straps of the duffle bag as he placed his hand on your lower back and walked with you to your car. He opened the passenger door for you and grabbed his forearm.

“We’re having a baby.” Bucky beamed at you as nervous tears streamed down your face. Bucky dropped the bag on the grass and cradled your face.

“We’re havin’ a baby.” He kissed your lips and wiped away your fears.

You didn’t have a perfect love story. It was full of dark twists and turns and years of hurt that consumed you both….

… but those moments brought you here. Brought you back together.

Just like it was meant to be.

————————————————————————————

Previous // Masterlist

[that-70s-page]

Dear Friend | Part 1

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: The mutual pinings of best friends.

Words: ~2.5k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol

A/N: This is my first ever fanfiction, so please give me feedback! Also, let me know if you want to be on the taglist! <3

“Roger, you're looking at Y/N like she’s a piece of meat,” John looks pointedly at the blond, raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up Deaky,” Roger removes his eyes from you and glares at the smirking bassist. Admittedly, he had been watching you all night, his gaze following you onto the dance floor, never leaving your body as you twisted and swayed to the loud music. You were beautiful out there, your movements perfectly synchronized with the pulse of the band performing on the stage in front of you. It reminded Roger of when he watches you at Queen’s performances, always dancing in time with his drumming, giving him playful winks from the audience as he plays.

“You should tell her, you know. You can’t keep pretending Rog, it’s become painfully obvious,” Brian adds, taking a slow sip from his beer.

Roger huffs, looking back at you. I know I should, but I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same way, and I can’t ruin our friendship, she means too much to me, he thinks to himself, but instead says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re friends, nothing more, nothing less.” 

Brain shakes his head in defeat and John sighs, wrapping his arms around Veronica, “Oh, come off it, Rog. We all know that’s not true. You’ve got to do something about it, pining over her isn’t healthy when she obviously feels the same. You could be so happy if you weren’t so far up your own ass.”

Roger swings his head away from you, shooting daggers at the couple across from him. Easy for you to say. You’ve got your girl, you don’t have to worry about the fact that if she doesn’t feel the same, you’ve ruined the one friendship that means the most to you, he thinks bitterly, but bites back his angry retort.

John blinks back at him, curling his arm tighter around Veronica. Freddie waves his hand passively at Roger’s aggressive stare, “Yes, darling. And you don’t have to worry about her not reciprocating your feelings, it’s quite evident that she’s head over heels for you. You should see the way she looks at you when your eyes aren’t glued to her.”

“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve been best friends since grade school, she’s like my sister,” Roger clenches his fists beneath the table, his nails digging into his palms leaving crescent moons on his callused hands.

“Since when did you have a sister, Rog?” a warm hand pokes Roger’s arm, causing the drummer to nearly fall out of his seat.

“Y/N! Christ, you startled me,” Roger looks up to see you smiling warmly at him, an amused giggle escaping your lips. A thin sheen of sweat covers your face, making you glow under the colorful club lights. You slide into the booth next to him and he can feel your thigh press against his beneath the table. He fights the urge to lay his hand on it, instead throwing his arm over your shoulder and smirking at you playfully.

“Oh you didn't know?” he teases you, eyes gleaming. “I have an older sister that you’ve never met. She lives in America with her boyfriend and never visits. I’m surprised you haven’t found out, considering you live with me.”

“Hmm, I guess you just never told me about her,” you play along, stealing the drink from his hand. He makes a noise of disapproval as you down half of the bitter alcohol, grabbing for the glass.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” he grins lopsidedly, swallowing the rest of his drink. “Some friend you are,” you pout, squirming out from his tight hold on your shoulders.

“Aw hey, come back, I’m a great friend!” Roger whines, grabbing your hand and pulling you roughly but playfully back into the booth. You stumble and nearly land on top of him, catching yourself on his chest. You let out a nervous laugh and can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. You reluctantly push yourself off of his warm torso and return to your seat beside him. John shoots you a knowing smirk and you glare at him, fighting to keep your heart rate normal.

“I need another drink,” you say, getting up again and turning towards the bar. The more alcohol in your system, the more you can blame on being drunk.

“Bring me back another since you drank half of mine!” Roger calls after you as you make your way towards the tall wooden stools lining the countertop of the bar. You flag down the bartender and ask for a refill for Roger before ordering yourself your usual. As the bartender sets the two glasses in front of you, you feel a large hand brush against your back. You turn around and are met with a very charming smile, accompanied by a handsome face and short brown waves.

“Pity that such a stunning girl should have to order her own drink,” he says, eyeing the two glasses in your hands.

“I’m just doing a friend a favor, I drank most of his so he asked for a refill,” you reply, glancing back at Roger, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Well, If you wouldn't mind, I’d love to buy you a drink. It isn't every day that I run into the prettiest girl in London,” he says smoothly, sitting down on the stool opposite you.

Wow, he's really laying it on thick, you cringe inwardly. “I’m flattered, but I’ve already got one,” you say, plastering a smile on your face and lifting the hand that is holding your glass.

“Alright, then how about we just chat? Since you already have a drink, I think I’ll order myself one,” he looks at you with sparkling green eyes.

Damn, if he wasn't so attractive I’d be annoyed, you think, sipping your drink to hide you reddening cheeks.

“I can do a short chat. I don't want to keep my friend waiting though, he really likes his alcohol,” you laugh, looking back at the band’s booth. Roger is still watching you, but it looks as if he is just staring off into space. A tense expression has settled over his features, and when he catches you staring back at him he shoots you a tight lipped smile, eyes flitting to the man beside you.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, now holding a drink of his own.

“Y/N,” you answer, dragging your gaze away from Roger and back towards the handsome man next to you.

“Wonderful to meet you, Y/N. I’m Thomas, and... your friend seems to be giving me the death-eye,” he laughs, noticing Roger’s unrelenting watch over your interaction.

“Sorry ‘bout him, he’s an impatient bastard. I should probably go make sure he doesn't steal someone else’s drink. It was nice to meet you Thomas, have a good rest of the night,” you say as you get up from the stool to bring Roger his drink.

“Wait!” Thomas calls after you, grabbing your hand. You turn back, smiling questioningly at the curly-haired gentleman. “You forgot to give me your number,” he smirks at you from his seat, eyeing you through his dark hooded gaze.

“How do you know I forgot? Maybe I just didn't want to,” you return the smirk, cocking your head sideways. 

“That would be a shame,” he replies, shrugging. You giggle and return to the counter, taking the pen from his front pocket and scribbling your phone number onto a napkin.

“Here you go, and you’d better not call me before ten, because I won't be awake,” you smile, handing him the folded piece of paper. He laughs and puts it in his pocket, “Neither will I darling. Now go give your friend his drink before he comes over here. He looks as if he could kill me for holding you up.”

You laugh and walk back to your booth, feeling warm from the alcohol you had consumed, and possibly from Thomas’s flirting. You hadn't been hit on by someone as cute as him in a while, and it made you feel tingly to think that this could lead to something more than a fling. Not that you were looking for a relationship, because you had recently gotten out of a pretty serious one that had ended very messily. Luckily, Roger had been there to help you, like he always did, and you had sworn of men for a while. But Thomas seemed really nice, unlike most of the regulars at this club, and you found with surprise that you were looking forward to receiving a call from him.

You place Roger’s drink down in front of him, sliding back into the booth with your own in hand. He gives a grunt of thanks and brings it to his lips, letting the liquid burn his throat as he downs the entire glass.

“Rog! Take it slow, you’ve already had a lot to drink,” you scold him, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. 

“M’fine Y/N. I’m not even tipsy yet, lay off,” he mutters, setting the drink down with more force than he intended. Small flecks of alcohol jump out of the glass and land across the table, glittering like honey on the dark wood.

“That’s a load of codswallop, Rog. You're bloody pissed, let’s just go home,” you say to the drunk blond, pulling him up from the booth. He shrugs you off and glares at the floor, slumping against the side of the table. “Seriously Roger, what’s gotten into you? I was gone for a second and you're already piss drunk.”

“What was I s’posed to do? Wait around for you to come back from that dickwad at the bar?” That earned a few snickers from your table-mates.

You were caught off guard by his sudden aggression, “Thomas isn't a dickwad, he was very polite, now can we please leave before you break something? I’m knackered and I don't have the energy to deal with drunk Roger tonight,” you grab him again, pulling him towards the exit.

“Oh, so he’s got a name now? Didn't know you two were chums,” he growls. You ignore him as you lead him out of the crowded club, waving goodbye to the remaining band members.

You drag Roger into the passenger side of his car, slamming his door shut and climbing into the driver’s seat. You take a few deep breaths of fresh air before starting the car and driving away from the loud club towards your and Roger’s shared flat. You continue in silence for the fifteen minute drive, stealing sideways glances at Roger. He stares blankly ahead at the road, mouth in a tight frown. The only sound coming from him is the occasional tapping of his fingers as he subcounsciously drums a beat against the metal doorframe. 

It is a habit that you have gotten used to; when he started drumming when you were both twelve, he had developed the nervous tic, and made rhythms with his fingers when he was anxious or upset about something. You knew better than to push him when he was like this. He needed to be angry and distant before he could calm down, so you let him. You drive peacefully once his tapping ceases, relishing the thick silence that fills the car, but the tapping of his fingers is soon replaced by the quiet pattering of rain.

When you finally pull into the small driveway of your flat, you realize that Roger has fallen asleep against the window. He must be really hammered, you sigh, opening his door and letting him slump into your arms so he doesn't fall out of the car. The rain sprinkles his unbuttoned shirt and dark jeans with small flecks of water, mingling with the sweat that has gathered on his forehead.

“Y/N…” he lets out a muffled groan, waking up from the feeling of your arms wrapped around him and the rain dampening his clothes.

“Shh, let’s get you inside,” you murmur, helping him out of the car. He leans heavily against you as you stumble through the front door and into the cozy living room. He falls onto the couch with a dramatic oof and you go into the kitchen to make some tea to help you both sober up. You pull out his favorite kind and begin heating the water, waiting for the shrill hiss of the teapot.

While you wait for the water to heat up, you climb onto the couch with Roger, laying your feet across his legs. The room is dim, lit only by a small yellow lamp in the corner. He opens his eyes and looks up at you through hooded lids, his mouth twitching into an apologetic smile.

“Sorry ‘bout all that love. You know how I get,” he says, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s fine, Rog. That’s what friends are for,” you reply with a weak smile, already feeling the tug of sleep cloud your mind. You close your eyes for a second and miss Roger’s flinch at your words. He lets out a sigh and rests a warm hand on your calf, gently stroking the soft skin beneath his fingers. Your leg tingles beneath his touch, and you feel as if there are flames spreading from his fingers and enveloping your entire body in heat. When he removes his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, you swear that he has left a burn in the shape of his palm, but when you glance down all you see is smooth skin reflecting the light from the moon peeking through the window.

The loud whistle of the teapot interrupts your thoughts and you get up reluctantly, sliding your legs off of Roger’s. You shuffle into the kitchen and flick the lightswitch, wincing as the harsh light fills the tiled room. You pour the steaming water into two mugs, leaning down to let some of the warm fog wafting from the pot relax your tired eyes and nose. The steam clouds your vision and you feel small droplets of condensation begin to gather on your upper lip and nose from the warm air. You set the teapot aside and put in two tea bags, watching the once clear water become tinted from the dried leaves. The colors billow out from the bag, reminding you of washing the paint off of brushes. You spoon honey into Roger’s mug, and stir it around for a few moments, watching the golden syrup dissolve. The spoon makes small tinkling noises against the ceramic mug, and you gently tap off the excess honey into your own tea.

“Rogie, here’s your cuppa,” you call softly to the tired boy as you return to the dark living room.

You are greeted with soft snores and the vision of Roger’s sleeping form on the couch, looking almost angelic in the filtered moonlight. You smile fondly at the blond and lean over to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, love. I’ll see you in the morning,” you whisper, laying a blanket over his curled up shape. You set his mug down on the coffee table in front of him, knowing that he will be grateful for it when he wakes up in the morning.

Part Two!

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