You wake up to the feeling of a warm body next to yours and the clicking of keys. Your eyes crack open and you can see early morning light flooding in through your window and an arm draped across your waist.

"Good morning." Says the Puerto Rican beside you. You look up at him, and smile. His feathery brown hair is a mess, falling chaotically around his face. "How long have you been up?" You say, wiping the sleep out of your eyes.

"Mmm." He says, rubbing his chin. "I got up at around 5 and went to get the laptop..." "What time is it now?" You say. Lin looks at the bedside clock, "Almost 11." "Goodness, that's late! Why didn't you wake me up?" You say. Lin shrugs and continues typing on the computer, "You looked so peaceful. Besides, you deserve some sleep."

You sit up and roll your eyes, "So do you. Why were you up at 5?" Lin shrugs again and says, "I'm always up at 5. 'Late to bed, early to rise, makes a man uh... smart, or something'" You laugh, "Okay first of all, that's not how that quote goes. Second you really shouldn't be up that early if you go to bed so late." You put your hand on his, "I'm worried about you."

Lin looks into and then away from your eyes. He sighs, "I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me." He closes the lap top and slides out of bed. Fixing his shorts and says with a goofy grin, "Come on, let's find some breakfast."

In the kitchen, you crack eggs into a bowl while Lin tries to remember how to make pancakes. "We can just google it." You say to the man standing shirtless in front of the pantry. "No, no I got this, I got this." He sets flour, butter, milk, and salt on the counter as you pull a whisk out of the drawer. Lin pulls a bowl out of the cabinet and tosses in some ingredients without measurement.

"You know, they have this thing called 'measuring cups'" You say. Lin rolls his eyes dramatically and says, as he places a pan on the stove, "When you have this much skill, (y/n), there is no need for measuring." "Uh Huh," You say, without looking up, "How much skill does it take to forget to put the sugar in?" Lin blushes red and pouts, grabbing the sugar roughly and sloshing some in, "I was just about to do that."

Lin turns the stove on and twirls around the kitchen like a drunk Chita Rivera, grabbing a spatula and nearly tripping over his own feet. When he pours the first pancake onto the griddle (stupidly, from three feet above the pan), some batter splashes into his face and chest. "Sexy." You say, raising your eyebrows at him when he turns around. He grins deeply and says in a deep, sultry tone, "Wanna lick it off?"

You pause for a moment from your egg beating to toss a dishrag over his smug little face. When he turns around to clean himself, you steal his spatula and use it to pop him in the butt. He yelps and says, "Harder, mami." Rolling your eyes and Turing back to your eggs, you exclaim: "You are disgusting."

"Chillax," You feel his arms slipping around your waist and you feel yourself being pulled into his embrace. "You know you love me." He says softly, into your ear. And that's the thing, you do love him.

You turn around and kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He reaches over, turning the stove off, before lifting you up by your waist and setting you on the counter, all the while not breaking yours and his kiss.

After a few moments of tender touch, you and him separate, laughing, and continue making breakfast as if you had not grown so passionate just moments before.

But after this moment there is no question: Lin-Manuel need not sleep on the couch any longer.