Hell or High Water-verse.
The glowing hands of the Spider-Man alarm clock read slightly after four in the morning, although I couldn't hear it ticking over the lumberjack snores of the woman in bed next to me.
I reached over and pinched her nose — gently.
She slapped my hand, muttered a few swears and turned onto her side. The snoring continued, more of a cartoon wheeze as I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her against my chest.
"Knock it off, Dresden." She elbowed away from me with a grumble, still entirely asleep. "You animal."
Her fingers laced through mine, though, and after a moment she leaned her forehead against my shoulder and murmured something affectionate but definitely not repeatable.
I had almost drifted off when the cat launched himself onto the bed, squarely onto my sternum, which was slightly less painful than his usual landing zone. Mister batted at my nose once, then curled up under Murphy's arm, matching her snore with his own diesel-engine purr. It was only a little insulting — she was softer and more cuddly than me, yeah, but god help anyone else who pointed it out.
Moonlight on the snow outside made it nearly as bright as day beyond the half-open blinds on the windows. I sighed and waved a hand at the candles on the fireplace mantle, muttering the spell. I reached for the noir-detective space-opera paperback I'd left on the bedside table, and made it two paragraphs in before my eyelids started feeling heavy.
"Dad?"
I blinked. A small someone in purple llama pajamas was tugging on the sleeve of my t-shirt. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes. Most of the candles had burnt out, the paperback was on the floor, and it was snowing again outside.
"Hmm?"
A quarter to five, according to Peter Parker.
"I had a bad dream." Maggie hugged a stuffed Chewbacca in a headlock. "Can I sleep in here with you?"
"'Course, punkin." I scooped her up in one arm and snuggled her against my chest in the spot left between me and Murph and the cat. The girl was out almost instantly, and I was drifting off, too, to the soft background noise of my sleeping family.
I woke again when I heard the bedroom door creak open. I felt the squish of the mattress. The bedframe let out a pained groan as Mouse hefted himself up with the rest of us. The big dog settled his weight across the foot of the bed, carefully.
"I'm sorry, sir," I mumbled, drowsy. "We're at capacity—"
He thumped his tail happily against the blankets.
There was a cracking sound, and we were all suddenly about a foot lower than we had been; the mattress was on the floor.
Mister bolted out of the room with a hiss of displeasure. Maggie stirred, the fuzzy Chewie in her arms let out a muffled yodel.
Murphy snored.
"Empty night," I swore, even though it was clearly morning, judging from the dull gray light outside, and even though it had been the distinct opposite of empty.
Mouse thumped his tail again, apologetic.
I rolled over and immediately fell asleep.
Next: Black Cat