Andy groaned softly and dragged the pillow more firmly over his head, his tousled hair peeking out from beneath it. "No," he mumbled, muffled by fabric. "Tell it no for me."

  Summer smacked the snooze button with more force than necessary, then dropped her head back to the pillow beside him. "Five more minutes," she muttered, eyes closed.

  "Ten," Andy countered from under the pillow.

  "Seven."

  He peeked one eye out, grinning. "Split the difference at eight and a half?"

  Summer laughed, quiet and sleepy, and curled closer to him again. Andy reached blindly for her hand under the blankets and laced their fingers together, warm and lazy and still wrapped in the dreamlike glow of a night he didn't want to let go of yet.

  When the alarm blared again, he flopped dramatically onto his back, arm thrown across his eyes. Summer growled low in her throat like an irritable kitten and slapped the button with resignation. Sliding to sit on the edge of the bed, hair a ragged red stream down her back, she glared at the floor like it had personally offended her. "I hate capitalism," she muttered.

  Andy cracked one eye open and grinned. "Tell your boss you've been captured by a sexy vampire and can't come in."

  She shot him a look over her shoulder, trying not to smile. "I don't think that's in the employee handbook."

  "Worth testing."

  She stood, stretched with a soft yawn, and then looked back at him — beautiful and bare in her rumpled bed, hair falling in his face, blue eyes sleep-hazed and tender. "I'll be back," she promised.

  Andy watched her walk to the bathroom, then flopped face-first into her pillow. He was already missing her again. He listened to the soft creak of the floorboards as Summer moved from bathroom to somewhere else in the apartment. It didn't sound like someone getting ready to leave. He blinked at the ceiling, puzzled.

  She'd gotten up with the alarm. She hadn't gotten dressed. She'd muttered something about hating capitalism — was this a work-from-home day? Or had she just... decided not to go in?

  Andy considered getting up to ask, but the bed was warm and the pillow still smelled like her. He yawned, stretched under the sheets, and rolled onto his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

  He'd ask later. After more sleep. After he'd dreamed of her voice and her laughter, and maybe of her coming back in here to curl up with him for just five more minutes.

  * * *

  Andy padded out of the bedroom, rubbing a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to make it lie flat. His boots hung by their laces from one hand, the rest of him dressed again in the clothes he'd worn the day before — not that he expected to leave yet, but... better to be safe than sorry. He wasn't entirely used to this kind of morning.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He paused in the doorway of her little office, just watching her for a moment. Summer sat cross-legged in an armless desk chair. Her eyes were locked on the screen, brow furrowed in fierce concentration. "... okay, but why isn’t that returning true," she muttered to herself, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Unless — oh wait, wait, I didn't pass the — dammit."

  Andy stood there for a second, struck by how beautiful she was like this — serious, focused, completely in her element. He didn't want to interrupt.

  Then her eyes flicked up and caught him watching. She startled, then smiled sheepishly. "Hey. Morning."

  "Morning," Andy murmured, voice low and warm. "I take it this is your natural habitat," he teased gently.

  "Sorry," she said, brushing hair out of her face. "Did I wake you?"

  "Eventually," he said with a crooked smile. "Couldn't resist the siren song of muttered nerd things."

  She groaned softly and sank back into the chair. "You weren't supposed to witness this."

  Andy tilted his head. "Why not? It's kind of hot." He glanced at the screen. "Even if I don't understand a word of it."

  Summer blushed and laughed at the same time, and Andy thought: yeah. He could get used to this. "Need coffee or anything?" he asked.

  Summer shook her head, pulling a face. "No, thank you. I don't drink coffee."

  Andy blinked. "Wait — seriously?"

  She grinned at his expression. "Dead serious."

  "But... you're a developer. I thought that was, like, in the job description. Code, caffeine, and sarcastic t-shirts."

  "Only two out of three, sorry." She turned away from the screen to face him. "Caffeine doesn't work on me. I could drink a double espresso and go straight to bed."

  Andy gaped at her, mock-horrified. "That's... unnatural."

  She laughed again, a lazy, warm chuckle that made something soft unfurl in his chest. "I know. I'm broken."

  "No," Andy said, dropping onto the beanbag chair in one corner and letting his boots fall, "you're just rare. One of a kind."

  Summer gave him a look, trying not to smile too much — but failing. "Smooth."

  "I try," he said. "So if not coffee... what does power your genius brain?"

  She considered. "Hot chocolate. Pure spite. Occasionally, panic."

  Andy leaned back, satisfied. "I can work with that." Then, with a wicked little smirk: "But I'm still getting you a sarcastic t-shirt."

  Summer huffed. "Fine." She stretched with a soft groan, arms up, back arching, toes pointing. Her shirt slid up slightly, baring a narrow strip of stomach before she relaxed again with a sigh. "I probably haven't moved in, like... two or three hours," she admitted, rubbing at her shoulder. "That's not good."

  Andy watched her, one brow raised, looking somewhere between impressed and appalled. "You didn't even blink, did you?"

  "Only when the screen yelled at me." She gave him a crooked smile and rubbed at the back of her neck. "I was deep in a bug and I think I forgot I had a body."

  Andy leaned closer, mock-serious. "I'm gonna start setting alarms to make you get up and stretch."

  "That's a very boyfriend thing to say," she murmured without thinking, then winced slightly and looked at him.

  Andy didn't flinch. "Yeah," he said softly. "It is. Can I be?" he asked, quiet but certain. "Your boyfriend?"

  Summer blinked. Her mouth opened, then closed again. "Why would you want to?" she managed.

  Andy reached out, took her hand. His thumb traced the delicate curve of her knuckles. "Because I like you. Because I want to be here when your code works. Because I want to kiss you good morning, and because I've never met anyone who made me feel like this without even trying."

  Summer looked at him, eyes wide and uncertain — but warm, and getting warmer. "Yeah," she said at last, so softly it trembled in the air. "You can be."

  Andy smiled, sudden and luminous, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Then I am."

  "Okay," she said, with a stunned little laugh. "Okay."