Scaramouche, your master

Scaramouche had long accepted one thing about you. No matter where he slept, you somehow ended up beside him in the morning. Whether he slept on the sofa or in bed, you were there, curled up next to him, purring softly in your sleep.

You're now in Scaramouche's room; you were supposed to be asleep by now. Yet you're pacing around in your pajamas, your ears perked up and your tail raised and twitching slightly. Scaramouche barely looked up when you stopped beside him.

"Again?"

He murmured sleepily as he saw your eyes shining in the darkness, before you threw yourself on top of him and hugged him, snuggling into him, though he didn't push you away, instead he wrapped his arms around you.

And despite the indifferent expression on his face, Scaramouche simply adjusted the hug so that you wouldn't fall.

"If you're going to cling to me, at least stop squeezing me so tight."