Friday morning arrived slowly, sunlight creeping through the curtains in soft golden strips.
Luca woke to the smell of coffee and something cooking—familiar scents that meant Noel was already up and in the kitchen.
He stretched, checking his phone. 9:23 AM. Still early enough to feel like sleeping in, late enough to feel rested.
The apartment was warm, comfortable. The car was sprawled at the foot of the bed, occupying more space than should be physically possible for a cat his size.
"Traitor," Luca muttered, pushing himself up. "You didn't wake me for breakfast."
Luca Jr. yawned, completely unbothered.
Luca shuffled out to the kitchen, still in his pajama pants and a t-shirt that had definitely belonged to Noel at some point.
Noel stood at the stove, hair slightly messy, wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt, completely focused on whatever he was cooking.
"Morning," Luca said, wrapping his arms around Noel from behind.
