Part 7: Morning Light

Tivaughn woke to unfamiliar sheets and the smell of weed drifting through the cracked window. Dawn was just breaking, casting grey light across Reece's empty side of the bed. For a moment, he just lay there, taking in the room he hadn't properly seen last night - cream walls, dark furniture, a few of Z's drawings taped up.

The sound of quiet coughing drew him to the window. Reece was on the small back porch in just his sweats, smoke curling around him in the morning air. Even from here, Ti could see the tension in his shoulders - different from his usual hardness, more vulnerable somehow.

"Fuck it," Ti muttered, grabbing his jeans from the floor. The house was quiet as he made his way downstairs, careful to skip the creaky step he'd noted last night.

The morning air hit cold as he stepped onto the porch. Reece didn't turn, but his shoulders tightened slightly.

"You good?" Ti asked, moving to lean against the railing beside him.

Reece took another long pull, held it, let it out slow. "Always am." But his voice was rougher than usual, less guarded.

"Sure about that, pa?" The nickname slipped out without thought. Reece's eyes cut to him, dark and intense.

"Don't start shit you can't finish," he warned, but there was heat under the words.

Ti plucked the blunt from his fingers, took a hit. "Who says I can't finish it?"

Before Reece could respond, small feet thundered down the stairs inside. The vulnerability vanished from his face, replaced by his usual mask, but his hand brushed Ti's lower back as he moved past - quick, possessive.

"Daddy! Mr. Ti!" Zaire burst onto the porch in Batman pajamas. "Can we have pancakes?"

"Damn, Z, volume," Reece groaned, but he was already reaching for his son. "Let me hit the shower first."

"Can Mr. Ti make them? He can flip them real high, I bet!"

"Boy, you ain't even seen him cook," Reece said, but he glanced at Ti, something unspoken in his eyes.

Ti caught the look, understood what Reece wasn't saying. "I got it. Go handle your business."

Watching them head inside - Zaire chattering, Reece's hand gentle on his son's head - Ti felt something shift in his chest. This wasn't just about him and Reece anymore. But somehow, that made it feel more right, not less.

His phone buzzed - a text from his boy Marcus about opening the shop. Ti typed back quick: "Gonna be late. Handle it."

Through the kitchen window, he could see Zaire already pulling ingredients out, making a mess. Upstairs, the shower started running. The morning stretched out ahead, full of possibilities.

"Fuck," Ti muttered, smiling despite himself. He was in deep, and they both knew it. But watching Zaire's excited face through the window, remembering Reece's vulnerability in the grey dawn light, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He crushed out the blunt and headed inside. They had pancakes to make.