Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unhurried, the kind of light that suggested late morning rather than early.
Luca woke slowly, awareness returning in comfortable pieces—warmth, softness, Noel's steady breathing beside him.
He blinked, squinting at the clock on the nightstand.
10:47 AM.
They'd slept in. Properly slept in, for the first time in weeks.
He smiled, settling back against the pillow, feeling the weight of Noel's arm across his waist, the way they'd tangled together in sleep.
His left hand rested on the pillow near his face, and the silver ring caught the morning light.
Real. Last night had been real.
Beside him, Noel stirred, making a small sound that was half-protest, half-surrender to waking.
"Morning," Luca said softly.
"Mm." Noel's eyes stayed closed, but his arm tightened around Luca's waist. "What time?"
"Almost eleven."
"We slept late."
"It's Christmas. We're allowed."
Noel finally opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness.
