Caleb

How close do I need to be? Can you show me?

“…You really thought I’d leave you like that?” He clicks his tongue, then walks back toward you. “C’mere.” He reaches out, fingers hooking lightly around your wrist, just enough to guide you forward until you’re right in front of him.

“This close,” he murmurs. His hand slides to your waist, steadying you. “Can’t correct your form from across the room,” he adds. He steps behind you, “Feet shoulder-width,” he says, nudging your stance with his foot. “Knees soft. Don’t lock them.”

Yeah… he noticed all of it.

“…Ruthless?” he echoed, one brow lifting slightly. “Don’t make a deal you can’t handle,” he said. “I am affected,” he said. “You’re just too busy dying to notice.” But as he said it, his thumb brushed briefly under his own lip again.

"So can I commandeer the Fleet's Colonel starting now? There's that old campsite nearby that we used to go to when we were kids."

Her Hunter's Watch beeped but she quickly silenced it. Pulling away from him, she tapped in a vacation request effectively immediately before turning off the device.

"If you want to run away from the world for a bit, I'll always be by your side."

-🦋

There’s the faintest hint of a smile against your skin, “commandeer, huh? That’s pretty bold of you, pipsqueak.”

But he doesn’t pull away, “The Colonel might have something to say about that,” he murmurs. “Chain of command and all, but I think he’s off-duty.”

Your watch beeps. His hand tightens instinctively, like he already knows what that sound usually means. When you turn it off, his eyes flick down to your hand, then back up to your face. “You’re serious,” he says quietly.

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair back behind your ear,

“Old campsite, huh?” he repeats. “The one by the ridge? Where you insisted you could start a fire by yourself and nearly smoked us out?”

“…I remember,” he murmurs. “Those calls.” A faint exhale leaves him. “Didn’t matter where I was,” he adds, glancing down at you. “You called, I answered. Simple as that.” His thumb slides over your hand again.

Lightning flashes outside, briefly lighting up his expression. “An old apple orchard?” he repeats, one brow lifting slightly. His hand tightens just enough to pull you a little closer. “…You planning on breaking in with me, pipsqueak?”

His gaze drifts to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes. “Because I should warn you,” he continues, leaning in just slightly, “I’m a terrible influence. But if we’re sneaking into an orchard…” his fingers trail lightly along your arm, “I’m not just going for apples.” His lips brush near your temple.

How close do I need to be? Can you show me?

“…You really thought I’d leave you like that?” He clicks his tongue, then walks back toward you. “C’mere.” He reaches out, fingers hooking lightly around your wrist, just enough to guide you forward until you’re right in front of him.

“This close,” he murmurs. His hand slides to your waist, steadying you. “Can’t correct your form from across the room,” he adds. He steps behind you, “Feet shoulder-width,” he says, nudging your stance with his foot. “Knees soft. Don’t lock them.”

You were coughing hard now, tears streaming and whatever smug comeback he might’ve had? It died right there. “Hey...” He leaned forward immediately. “Breathe. Slow.”

His hand came up, not touching your face, but hovering near your arm.“Don’t try to talk,” he added, quieter. “You just made it worse.” He reached for the water without asking and slid it right into your hands. “Small sips,” he said. “Not all at once.”

A pause while he watched you get control of your breathing again, his jaw tightening just a little. Only when your coughing started to ease did his gaze flick briefly to the fallen wing… then back to you. “…That was messy.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You didn’t finish it. But you didn’t exactly ‘tap out’ either.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “…Still, rules are rules.” He lifted a hand and pointed at your outer layer. “Jacket,” he decided. “Off.” He couldn’t help himself, his gaze flicked back up to your face. “…You agreed to this, remember?”

"So can I commandeer the Fleet's Colonel starting now? There's that old campsite nearby that we used to go to when we were kids."

Her Hunter's Watch beeped but she quickly silenced it. Pulling away from him, she tapped in a vacation request effectively immediately before turning off the device.

"If you want to run away from the world for a bit, I'll always be by your side."

-🦋

There’s the faintest hint of a smile against your skin, “commandeer, huh? That’s pretty bold of you, pipsqueak.”

But he doesn’t pull away, “The Colonel might have something to say about that,” he murmurs. “Chain of command and all, but I think he’s off-duty.”

Your watch beeps. His hand tightens instinctively, like he already knows what that sound usually means. When you turn it off, his eyes flick down to your hand, then back up to your face. “You’re serious,” he says quietly.

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair back behind your ear,

“Old campsite, huh?” he repeats. “The one by the ridge? Where you insisted you could start a fire by yourself and nearly smoked us out?”

“…yeah,” he says under his breath. “I’ve heard that.” His fingers curl slightly in yours, like he’s holding on just as much as you are. “Anywhere I am, huh?” he murmurs, a faint exhale slipping into the words. “Forever’s a long time, pipsqueak.”

His free hand comes up, brushing gently along your cheek before settling at the back of your neck. He leans in just a little, forehead resting against yours again.

“You make it really hard to let you go anywhere at all,” he continues quietly, thumb brushing just under your ear. “…good thing you’re already right here.” He shifts his hand, turning yours so your palms press together fully.

"So can I commandeer the Fleet's Colonel starting now? There's that old campsite nearby that we used to go to when we were kids."

Her Hunter's Watch beeped but she quickly silenced it. Pulling away from him, she tapped in a vacation request effectively immediately before turning off the device.

"If you want to run away from the world for a bit, I'll always be by your side."

-🦋

There’s the faintest hint of a smile against your skin, “commandeer, huh? That’s pretty bold of you, pipsqueak.”

But he doesn’t pull away, “The Colonel might have something to say about that,” he murmurs. “Chain of command and all, but I think he’s off-duty.”

Your watch beeps. His hand tightens instinctively, like he already knows what that sound usually means. When you turn it off, his eyes flick down to your hand, then back up to your face. “You’re serious,” he says quietly.

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair back behind your ear,

“Old campsite, huh?” he repeats. “The one by the ridge? Where you insisted you could start a fire by yourself and nearly smoked us out?”

At your question, he doesn’t answer right away. You can feel it, the way he thinks about it, not casually, but carefully. “Anywhere in the world…” he repeats softly. His thumb traces slow, absent patterns over your hand beneath the blanket.

“I’ve been a lot of places,” he admits. “Different skies, different runways… different reasons for going.” A small pause. “But if I got to choose?” His head tilts just slightly, enough that his gaze drops to you, “Somewhere quiet,” he says. “Out of the way. No schedules, no comms going off every five minutes. Just… space.”

His fingers lace more firmly with yours. “A place where I don’t have to split my attention… somewhere like this.” The corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Cabin, rain, you stealing all the blankets and pretending you didn’t.” His voice softens further. “I think I’d stay there a while.”

How close do I need to be? Can you show me?

“…You really thought I’d leave you like that?” He clicks his tongue, then walks back toward you. “C’mere.” He reaches out, fingers hooking lightly around your wrist, just enough to guide you forward until you’re right in front of him.

“This close,” he murmurs. His hand slides to your waist, steadying you. “Can’t correct your form from across the room,” he adds. He steps behind you, “Feet shoulder-width,” he says, nudging your stance with his foot. “Knees soft. Don’t lock them.”

By the time you finished and tossed that challenge back his way, something in his expression had shifted. “Scared?” he echoed, almost amused.

He reached for a wing without breaking eye contact. “Nah,” he said simply. Then he took a bite. Just as thorough as you, clean, efficient, like he had something to prove but didn’t feel the need to announce it.

A small pause as he chewed, “…You’re right.” His thumb brushed lightly against his lip, catching a bit of sauce before reaching for the napkin. “Good flavor. Balanced heat.” A glance up at you. “Still easy.” He set the bone down neatly, then leaned back just slightly, gaze dragging over you, “Round one clears,” he said.

He pulled the second plate forward. TROPICAL AMARILLO.

The air shifted. He didn’t push this one to you right away. Instead, he picked up a wing… then paused. “…Same rules,” he said. “Full finish.” His eyes flicked to yours.

“But this time…” A faint tilt of his head. “…we go together.” Before you could argue, he lifted the wing slightly in a mock toast. “Don’t fall behind now.”

And then he bit in. Within seconds, there it was, the difference. Not obvious at first. But subtle signs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, the way his breath slowed through his nose.