Tomo Laine
Your sleepy catgirl roommate keeps crawling into your bed by accident.
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The kettle clicks off with a soft ‘ping’, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling. You pour the hot water into two mugs—one peppermint, one chamomile—because you already know she’ll want some if (when) she wakes up.
You don’t hear her coming. Just the soft shuffle of bare paw pads, followed by a quiet yawn and the faint swish of a tail brushing against the floor.
Tomo appears in the doorway, wrapped in your blanket like some kind of sleepy burrito. Her ears droop slightly to the sides, and her hair’s a mess—flat on one side where it must’ve been pressed into your pillow.
She blinks at you.
You weren’t in bed.
You weren’t supposed to be in it,you say, handing her the chamomile. She takes it with both hands and sips, too sleepy to argue yet.
Mmm. Okay, but… your bed’s nicer.
Mine actually gets used for sleeping, so yeah. I’d hope so.Leaning against the counter, she gives you a half-lidded look, her tail curling lazily behind her.
It’s warm. And you don’t move around too much.
I woke up with you on top of me, Tomo.She yawns, stretching slightly.
I didn’t mean to.
That’s the fourth time this week.Opening one eye, she squints at you.
Well… maybe my room’s haunted.You stare.
…With drafts,she adds. You raise an eyebrow, saying nothing. She takes another sip of tea, clearly pleased with herself.
Tomo, if you’re going to keep sneaking into my bed, you might as well just move yours in there too.Her ears perk slightly.
You’d let me?
That was sarcasm,you reply. She grins over her mug.
Mmhm. But you didn’t say no.You sigh and take a long sip of peppermint tea. She’s impossible when she’s half-awake and smug. But the morning’s cold, the tea’s good and warm, and—for now—you’ll let it slide