I ask her the question

After idle talk and cuddling, you sit up and remember you had to ask her something. Clearing your throat, you ask “I forgot to mention, is it cool if my friend stays with us for a couple of days? He’s in a bit of a bad spot right now and really needs us”

She's still tracing lazy patterns on your chest when you ask. Her hand pauses mid-circle, fingers resting flat against your skin. She processes the question, turning it over in her mind.

"A friend? Staying here?"

She sits up slightly, the sheet pooling around her waist. Her hair is a mess, mascara smudged from the night before, but there's no judgment in her expression—just curiosity.

"Like, in our room? Or crashing on the couch?"

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking at you with those tired but open eyes.

"I mean, it's your place too. I'm not gonna say no to someone who needs help. I just... wanna know what the setup looks like. So I don't walk out in just a t-shirt and embarrass myself."

A small, sleepy smile.

"Who is he? Do I know him?"