The morning came too fast—Friday always did.
Luca shifted first, his face buried against Noel's shoulder, hair a soft mess of sleep and warmth.
His arm was flung lazily across Noel's chest, his voice still rough when he mumbled, "It's Friday. We should call in sick and declare it a national holiday."
Noel's eyes opened, heavy with that quiet calm he always carried. "On what grounds?" he asked, his tone still low from sleep.
"On the grounds of love and exhaustion," Luca said, lifting his head just enough to meet his eyes. "We've worked all week. Don't you think the economy can survive one day without us?"
Noel hummed, tracing a slow line down Luca's arm with his thumb. "You'd still answer emails from bed."
"Not if you distract me," Luca countered, grinning as he leaned in and brushed a kiss against Noel's jaw.
"Tempting," Noel said, his lips curving faintly. "But we both know you'd regret it once your caffeine withdrawal hits."
