Melissa McCall routinely wakes up just before 5am. She has laundry to pick out of the dryer and fold, last night's soaked dishes to scrub, her hair and make-up, a giant breakfast to cook for her son (Scott insists that he's fine with toast and Nutella, but Melissa knows better - teenage boys eat a lot and teenage werewolf boys eat.. well, she doesn't have much of a reference point, but way more than she can afford, sometimes), and most important of all - to get to work on time.

Laura knows this. She's accepted the insistent beeping of Melissa's alarm in her ear, the disturbances of mattress and sheets that mean Melissa is up, and the sudden loss of warmth at her side. She gets that Melissa has the responsibilities of not only a working adult, but also single mother's. And in fact, Laura finds it hot - the whole stable, domestic, responsible, has-her-shit-together package. She prefers it worlds over dating deadbeat douchebags and flaky hipster college girls.

But sometimes, it just sucks.

"C'mon, babe, come back to bed for, like, a minute," Laura half-mumbles into her pillow, tired dark eyes beseeching under a curtain of ratty bed-head hair. She's dangerously close to whining. "S'cold without you."

"You're a werewolf. Get over it."

Despite Melissa's dry delivery, Laura feels a slight dip in the mattress moments after, and she smiles, reaching out to scratch lightly at Melissa's knee.

"All the way. Please?" Laura lifts her face entirely off her pillow, and engages Puppy Dog Eyes full-force, the intensity of which not even her strict Alpha mother could resist.

Melissa snorts, but allows herself to subtly glance at the length of Laura's smooth skin peeking from the covers. Not quite subtly enough to evade Laura's notice, though, judging from the smug look on her girlfriend's face.

"Okay, fine," the older woman acquiesces with a huff, sliding under the duvet that Laura conveniently raises. She can't help the satisfied shudder when the still-warm sheets settle over her and Laura slips an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She feels a soft vibration from where Laura hums, low in her throat, against her chest. Melissa once owned a cat that would purr endlessly when touched in even the slightest way, and she fancies Laura sounds a bit like Nadie in that moment. Laura yawns, the edge of her teeth just brushing Melissa's shoulder.

Melissa lies there, one hand sunk into Laura's messy but inexplicably still voluminous hair, and the other splayed over Laura's back until she feels Laura's breath puff evenly against her neck. Laura's asleep in mere minutes.

When she spots the alarm about to go off for Laura's usual wake-up time, she carefully untangles her hand from Laura's hair and reaches over to hit the snooze button. Her girlfriend snuffles in drowsy protest, but quiets when Melissa presses a kiss to her lips, the tips of their noses just touching. Shh.

Scott can handle breakfast for one day.