The house is small, but it's his.

Theirs, really, counting Luca. And really, really, it's Luca's name on all the paperwork. But, okay, for all intents and purposes, the house is his. The water always stays hot through his entire show, and natural light gleams in over the hardwood as long as the sun is in the sky. The walls are thin but safe—a welcome embrace after long shifts and hard days. Every square foot is a tangible piece that he's slowly learning he doesn't have to white-knuckle because he isn't going to lose it.

So, yes. It's small, but it's his, and it's perfect.

And then he spends the night with Chris in his arms.

He realizes quickly that he had no clue what perfect was.

Her skin is warmer and softer than cloud nine, and he takes a deep breath of her sweet, musky scent and sinks further into his newfound bliss. Before she even flutters her lashes open or turns to give him the most beautiful smile he's ever seen, he knows he wants to wake up to her for the rest of his life. And then she does, and he ghosts kisses over her forehead and cheekbones and lips. That's perfect.

Months later, Chris starts to slip from the bed like she always does on Street's off days; quick and quiet, and without letting too much cold air underneath the covers. She still remembers the relief of not having to be up at 4:30, of waking surrounded by warm covers and just getting to burrow in deeper, and she does her best to make sure that he gets all the sleep he can.

If only he'd stop throwing wrenches in her plan.

"No," he murmurs, once her legs are dangling off the side of the bed, his fingers clutching her worn t-shirt. His voice is somewhere between groggy and whiny and her lips tug upwards into a gentle, sympathetic smile. When she slots her fingers in-between his, her body immediately settles like a puzzle piece that's found its match.

"I have to get ready for work," she whispers back, thumb brushing over his. He shakes his head and gives an even more grumbled voice to his displeasure, and then shifts closer until his head is almost on her pillow and his arm cages her in completely.

"You're the boss. You can go in when you want."

Her eyes roll but she can't deny how comfortable the weight of his arm is and how much she wants to slip her legs back under the covers and tangle them with his. Still, old habits and new responsibilities.

"I'm not the boss," she counters, holding back the urge to turn and run a hand through his hair. "And Paloma has an appointment at 8:30, so I have to get there by 8."

She hears him lift his head up and can picture his expression—eyes narrowed in contemplation and mouth open before he captures his bottom lip with his teeth. The look burrows underneath her skin.

"That's in two hours."

Sighing, she shakes her head but it's a sweet kind of exasperation that fills her stomach, the kind that makes her wonder what she did to deserve him. Sunlight hasn't even started to slip in through the blinds yet and there's no early morning birdsong from the backyard. Even Duke seems to still be asleep.

"Yeah, but I have to shower and get ready." She says, though the conviction in her tone is waning, and he snuggles even closer.

"Takes thirty minutes."

"And I have to make breakfast."

"Breakfast burritos in the freezer."

"Well—" but she can feel how dry the straws are that she's grasping at. Can feel his hot breath on her wrist bone. "Traffic?"

"You don't even take the freeway."

He's right. It would maybe be infuriating if she wasn't so damn content.

Maybe old habits only die hard if you let them, she thinks. The low humming noise of her thoughts catches his attention.

"What's that, Babe?"

"Nothing," she huffs, swinging her legs back onto the mattress and pulling the covers up to her chest, just underneath his arm. "Scooch over."

A half-cocked smile graces his lips, just one shallow dimple barely visible in the darkness, and he shuffles back to his side of the bed but keeps her t-shirt loose in his hand. Underneath the warmth of the blankets once more, she takes a deep breath as all the tension drains from her muscles. One of her ankles locks with his and her ear is flush against his steady heartbeat, arms holding one another close.

"Happy?" She whispers.

He kisses her forehead and nestles further into her, balancing just on the edge of falling back asleep.

"Mmhmm. Perfect."

hello! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!
super fun to write something just so sweet and fluffy. exploring how their dynamic shifts but always keeps that spark that's one of the foundations of their partnership. and i do think they'd (at least in private) be quite physical. hand holding, cuddling, something most of the time.
please let me know what you think! thank you to everyone who continues to read/kudos/comment. all my love to you!
xx, A
ps. title is from So American by Olivia Rodrigo- i wanted something that fit the fun, light vibe! highly recommend.