Clyde straightened his back slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow over the boy pressed against him. He looked down at Micah, who was behaving like an oversized cat, cheek rubbing lazily against his bare shoulder as if claiming ownership, his eyes closed and his glasses sitting crooked on his face.
For a moment, Clyde didn't move. His gaze softened, the guarded sharpness melted into something warmer. He reached up, his fingers brushing the rim of the glasses before carefully slipping them off Micah's face. "Sleepy?" his voice was low, almost coaxing.
Micah's eyes opened halfway. "No… You just have this effect on me…" His tone was light, but there was an accusation under it, like it was Clyde's fault.
Clyde raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his gaze. "What? Am I your walking sleeping pill now?" Clyde teased. His mood, once heavy and strained, had already begun to settle.
