Trope: There Was Only One Bed

Days bled together, wrapped in something unspoken. Something soft.

There was no urgency. No overwhelming, breath-stealing need.

But gods…It was just as good.

Mornings began with coffee. Each day, a new flavor, a new experience—Annie crafting drinks that somehow always matched his mood…Before he even knew it himself.

Afternoons were laughter and play. Mischief and delight.

Evenings slowed. Blankets. Warmth. Movies. Her head on his chest. His arm around her shoulders.

It was comfortable. Effortless. Like they'd always been this way.

Neither of them said it. Neither of them tried to name it. But the shift was there.

Undeniable.

And neither of them wanted to do anything to break it.

The day had been perfectly romantic. Coffee in the morning. Ice skating in the afternoon. A whole slew of moments that could have—should have—led to something more.

And yet? Nothing.

Arbor, the ever-patient architect of chaos, had had enough.

No more soft tension. No more lingering looks. No more slow burn nonsense.

It was time for maximum disaster.

Malvor left for his room first. A soft, teasing kiss to Annie's forehead. A lazy smirk. A wink.

Annie, for her part, finished her book, stretched…And decided it was finally time for bed.

Except—When she pushed open the door to her room…

It wasn't her room.

It was Malvor's.

His ludicrously large, obnoxiously extravagant, borderline absurd king-sized bed dominated the space.

Velvet sheets. A ridiculous amount of pillows. And mirrors. So many mirrors.

Because Malvor was the kind of vain idiot who absolutely needed to see himself from every angle.

She froze.

Blinked.

"...What the hell?"

She turned on her heel to leave—And the door disappeared.

"No. Absolutely not."

"House, don't you dare."

Arbor, very much daring, dimmed the lights to a sensual golden glow. The fireplace lit itself. Rose petals—actual gods-damned rose petals—fluttered from the ceiling.

Her deadpan stare could have shattered stone.

"I hate this house."

Right on cue, Malvor strolled in. Shirtless. Hair tousled to perfection. Looking like he belonged on the cover of every book she'd ever read.

He took one look at the room. One look at the rose petals.

And grinned like the devil himself.

"Ah, Arbor, you conniving mastermind. Have I told you today how much I adore you?"

Annie's glare intensified.

"Fix. This."

Arbor did not fix it.

In fact, the bed looked fluffier.

Malvor flopped dramatically onto it. Stretched out like a king on his throne.

"Oh no, Annie, what shall we do? Forced to share a bed like some terribly cliché romance novel!"

The lights flickered romantically. The fire crackled with smug satisfaction.

Annie exhaled sharply through her nose.

"You are enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, immensely."

"Malvor, I swear, if you so much as breathe on me in your sleep—"

"Annie, we both know you'll be the one clinging to me for warmth."

"You are so full of yourself."

"And yet, completely correct."

She turned to the bed. To his grinning face. To the obnoxiously fluffy, overly welcoming sheets.

And sighed.

She could either stand there all night…Or just get it over with.

With zero ceremony, she climbed onto the opposite side. Tugged the blankets over herself aggressively.

"No funny business, Malvor."

"Darling, I am the epitome of seriousness."

She turned her back to him. He rolled onto his side. Still smirking. Still entirely too pleased with himself.

Arbor, pleased with its own genius, flickered the lights one last time.

And then…

They slept.

Separately.

For now.

Annie woke up to warmth.

Something solid. Heavy. Tangled around her.

Slow, even breathing at her neck. A strong arm around her waist. A long leg over hers.

She barely had half a second to process before—

"Annie, darling, I had the most wonderful sleep."

Her entire body went rigid.

Malvor nuzzled into her neck. Voice husky from sleep. Entirely too content.

And that's when it hit her.

They were wrapped around each other.

Like they'd always slept this way. Like it was natural. Like it was inevitable.

Her mouth opened. Prepared to unleash hell—

"I will kill you."

Malvor simply sighed dreamily, pulling her closer.

"Mmm. I'd prefer if you didn't, sugarplum."

Arbor flickered the lights happily.

"I hate both of you."