you hummed in response, too focused on the way he felt under your hands. lean, warm, and safe. you had no explanation for it, but something about it made your brain all foggy. your fingers flexed, gripping him just a little tighter.

joaquín let out a quiet laugh, "mm, mi amor,” he nudged the top of your head with his chin before kissing it softly “long day?"

"mhm," you murmured, shifting so you could press your forehead against his neck. your hands refused to leave his sides, thumbs brushing absent circles against his shirt.

he exhaled, wrapping his arms around you like he knew you weren’t letting go anytime soon. "take your time," he said, voice low and easy.

so you did.

he chuckles, low and warm. “doll, you could get me a rock and i’d love it.”

you bite your lip, nervous now, but in the best way. your fingers play with the hem of your sweater as you take a breath. “okay, well... i kinda have something. but it’s more of a, uhm, long-term investment.”

bucky lifts a brow, amused. “yeah?”

you nod, reaching for his hand, guiding it to rest against your stomach.

his expression shifts—confused, then surprised, then something softer, something unspoken. his fingers twitch slightly against the fabric of your sweater.

“you serious?” he asks, voice quiet.

you nod again, biting back a grin. “yeah.”

he exhales sharply, like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and then he’s pulling you into his arms, holding you like you might disappear if he lets go.

“you’re gonna be a dad, bucky,” you whisper against his shoulder.

he laughs, breathless, a little disbelieving. “holy shit.”

you both stay like that, wrapped up in each other, the rain still falling outside, the candles burning low. and for a long moment, there’s nothing else in the world but the two of you and the tiny, incredible future growing between you.

it was peaceful. just the two of you, lingering in the quiet before the day unfolded. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the heat of his skin against yours.

there was something perfect about moments like this. no words, no rush. just the soft intimacy of existing together, here, where everything else faded away.

his fingers traced slow, absent-minded patterns along your back, warmth sinking into your skin. you shifted slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. his eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, and the tenderness in them made your heart ache in the best way.

"morning," he murmured, voice low, edged with drowsiness.

you smiled, your hand resting on his chest. "morning."

he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you a little closer. the world could wait. for now, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of morning, and nothing else mattered.

you're sitting close, heads bent over a shared book, shoulders nearly touching. he’s smiling—really smiling, the kind that reaches his eyes—and when he whispers something, you laugh, soft and unguarded. chloe hesitates, the air catching in her throat. she’s seen clark smile before, even been the reason for it more times than she can remember, but there’s something about this moment that unsettles her.

he looks—peaceful. unburdened in a way he rarely is around her.

chloe lingers, hidden between the shelves, pretending to skim book spines while her ears strain for your words. it’s nothing, she tells herself. just clark being clark. he’s allowed to have other friends, allowed to smile like that with someone else. but still, there’s an ache beneath her ribs, something raw and unfamiliar.

she tells herself it’s all in her head, the way her stomach drops.

 · · ────── ⋅ ୭ ⋅ ────── · ·

on your way out of the library, you spot chloe at a table near the back, flipping idly through her notebook. she looks up when she hears you approach, eyes flicking between you and clark.

"heading out?"

"yeah," you say, adjusting the strap of your bag. "wanna walk with us?"

she hesitates, just for a second, but then she nods, closing her notebook with a soft thud. "sure."

the three of you step out into the evening air, the sky fading into soft oranges and dusky blues. the walk is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. chloe is quieter than usual, though, her hands tucked into her sleeves, her expression distant.

a few blocks down clark suddenly stops, patting his pockets. "forgot something," he says, sighing. "you guys go ahead, i'll catch up."

which left you and chloe alone.

you don’t mind. you like chloe—she’s sharp and determined, always chasing the next big story with a kind of restless energy that makes you admire her. but something about the way she’s been quiet since leaving the library makes you glance her way.

“everything okay?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer immediately. instead, she exhales, a slow, measured breath, and when she finally speaks, her voice is careful. “can i ask you something?”

“of course.”

chloe stops walking, and you do too. the air is crisp, the kind that makes you want to tuck your hands into your sleeves.

she doesn’t look at you right away. “why do you need clark?”

the question catches you off guard. “what?”

her gaze lifts to yours then, something unreadable flickering behind it. “you have everything,” she says, and it’s almost gentle, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s trying not to let it cut too deep. “people like you. you walk into a room and people notice. you could have anyone. so why clark?”

confusion knots your brows. “chloe, he’s my friend.”

“i know,” she says quickly, like she’s trying to backpedal. “i just—” she exhales sharply, shaking her head. “never mind.”

but you do mind. because now, looking at her, things start to make sense—the way she lingered in the library, the way her voice had gone quiet, careful. the way her words now feel like something she’s been holding onto for longer than just tonight.

“chloe,” you start, softer this time.

but she forces a small, tight smile. “forget i said anything, okay?”

before you can respond, clark jogs back towards you, grinning like he hadn’t just walked into something heavy. “sorry, that took longer than i thought.” he glances between you both, oblivious to the tension still humming in the air. 

“everything good?”

chloe’s smile brightens, effortlessly. “yeah,” she says, and maybe clark buys it, but you know better now.

as you walk together, chloe shifts just slightly, putting an inch more distance between you. it’s small gesture, barely noticeable. but you feel it.

"nope."

his head snapped toward you just in time to see you take a full step back, tension coiling through your body. your face had gone blank. too blank, the way it always did when you were trying not to react.

james’ brows furrowed. what the hell…?

then he followed your rigid stare downward.

a small, unassuming spider, no larger than a quarter, crawled across the open drawer.

he blinked, then looked back up at you.

"you serious?"

your jaw twitched. “i am very serious.”

a slow grin spread across his lips, the kind that usually got him smacked, but he couldn't help it. this was gold. the assassin, who had killed more men than fury—or anyone who was involved in her hiring—cared to admit, was frozen solid over a tiny, eight-legged intruder.

“you scared of bugs, sweetheart?” his voice was all slow drawl, amusement curling at the edges.

“i am not scared.” your voice was tight. “i just don’t like them.”

he crouched slightly, pretending to go for the spider, lips twitching. “so if i…”

“barnes. i swear to the gods.”

he laughed outright then, a low, warm sound that echoed through the empty base. but despite his teasing, he reached over and carefully flicked the spider away with his vibranium hand, watching as it disappeared into the shadows.

you exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “if you tell anyone about this—”

james held up a hand, mock-serious. “scout’s honor.”

you squinted. “you were never a scout.”

his grin widened

his eyes blink open, dazed and wide, and the realization of how quickly he got carried away hits him all at once. his face turns an adorable shade of red, ears burning, and he stammers, “sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“it’s fine,” you interrupt softly, giving him a gentle smile. “you’re fine.”

he glances at you through thick lashes, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. “i just…i really want to get this right.”

you tilt your head, shifting a little closer, your fingers brushing lightly along his arm. “you are,” you say, your voice steady and warm, as you take his hand in yours.

he swallows hard, still unsure of himself but holding onto your hand like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. "i just—" he starts, but this time, you cut him off, lifting your other hand to his cheek, coaxing his focus back to you.

"just kiss me, clark," you whisper, almost teasing, but your voice is soft and inviting, and when his eyes flicker back to yours, there's something undeniable between you.

without another word, he leans in again, a little slower this time, a little more deliberate. he kisses you with the same gentle care, but this time there’s no rush. no desperation. it's just him, feeling your lips against his, taking his time to savor the way you feel, the way you fit together so easily.

you let him, enjoying the way he’s gradually letting go of the tension, the way his kisses become more confident as he finds his rhythm. his hand shifts, brushing your jaw, his thumb caressing the curve of your cheek as if he’s making a promise with each tender touch.

the world is quiet around you, and for a moment, there’s only the two of you, nothing to rush and nowhere to be.

when you pull back, this time it’s only for a second, just enough to meet his gaze. clark’s face is flushed, his lips slightly parted, and the smile that creeps across his face is shy but real.

“that was better,” he says quietly, his voice rougher than usual.

you laugh softly, brushing your thumb over his lip. “yeah,” you agree, “it was.”

you could feel him watching you now, standing just a little too close, his presence a quiet weight that made the air feel thicker.

"you okay?" clark asked, his voice smooth, but there was something in it that made you feel exposed, like he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

you cleared your throat, staring down at your hands. "yeah, just..tired."

"mm," he hummed, his tone so knowing, "look at me."

your heart stuttered. the way he said it was so quiet, so firm, a command laced with reassurance.

you swallowed, your eyes flicking up to meet his, and immediately, the world dimmed, faded to nothing but the quiet pull between you. his eyes, steady and deep, held no urgency—only something weightier, something waiting.

and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t look away.

a knock came at the door right as you were turning a page, the door already starting to open. you barely had time to put your book down before a figure slipped in, closing the door as rapidly as the gods allowed.

luke castellan stood there, both hands still glued to the door, unmoving, chest rising and falling heavily. his eyes were fixed on the ground, brows furrowed, listening intently.

"castellan, what are y—"

you were cut off immediately with an aggressively whispered "shhh." his finger raised in front of his pursed lips, furthering his point.

his shirt was wet—well, at least part of it was. which wasn’t uncommon for campers here; there were plenty of water-related activities. but you found it odd that nothing else on him seemed to have been touched by said water.

once he deemed the coast clear, his shoulders sagged, and he sauntered over to you, collapsing face-first onto your bed with a groan.

"you wanna explain what that was?" you questioned after a beat, staring down at the mop of curls beside your hip.

"percy jackson and annabeth chase will be the death of me," his muffled voice grumbled. he turned over, looking up at you. your brows raised, signaling him to continue. "percy somehow convinced annabeth that it was a good idea to start a water fight, and now i have a bunch of cabin 11 kids running around, ensuing havoc.”

well, that explained the shirt.

"i thought most had gone home?"

"most have, but the rest are here until thursday." he sounded utterly defeated, his face falling into his open palms, and you couldn't help the little smile that crept onto your lips at his moping.

"that’s only two days away."

"two days with hermes kids is a lot longer than you’d think."

"oh, i know," you remarked, dramatically wiping a hand across your forehead and letting out a sound of faux exhaustion.

his brows furrowed for a second before realization dawned, and before you knew it, you were being tackled further onto the mattress. his fingers dug into your sides, relentless in their tickling. your cheeks were right about ready to burst, with your body shaking with laughter, ribcage and stomach burning. 

"luke, i can’t breathe," you managed between desperate gasps and giggles.

luke’s fingers didn’t let up. instead, one hand slipped under your shirt, tickling your bare side. he managed to hold down your arms—to some extent—between his endless light prods, and then had the audacity to laugh at your suffering like the menace he was.

"say you're sorry, and i'll stop," he said, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, a cheshire-like grin spreading across his pretty face.

"alright—alright, i’m sorry, just—" your sentence died out in a breath of exhaustion as he finally stopped his borderline torture.

he collapsed beside you, right hand remaining limply under your shirt, arm slung across your abdomen. neither of you moved or spoke for a good minute, comfortable silence settling over the room like a shawl of calm as you caught your breath.

a slight disappointment flickered through you when he retracted his hand, instead reaching for the book by your hip. he lifted it lazily, turning it over to read the blurb.

"annabeth lent it to me. told me it would help me keep up with her architectural rambling." she was a bright kid, a bit too bright. straightforward, too. you were sitting behind the amphitheater one day when she paused mid-musing to tell you that if you kept "furrowing your brows at her like she was speaking russian," you’d have wrinkles before you were twenty.

safe to say, that left you a bit flabbergasted.

the following day, she knocked on your cabin door holding a book by frank ching and a packet of insanely out-of-date candy—which you ate nonetheless.

"so this," luke held up the book, "is why you’ve been cooped up in here all day."

you rolled your eyes, feigning irritation, but when your gaze settled back on him, you found him staring.

his eyes had a faint twinkle—something soft, something warm.

"what?"

"nothing."

"no, seriously. what's with the staring?"

"you look good."

your mouth opened slightly, but no response came. luke had complimented you before—it wasn’t unfamiliar—but the way he was looking at you now, cheek resting on his hand, eyes scanning your face, admiring, made it feel like a foreign concept. it had a sanguine shade rushing to the forefront of your cheeks and ears. 

"luke," you warned, grabbing the book from his hand and discarding it on your bedside table to avoid his gaze before you imploded. 

"what? i can’t compliment a pretty girl?" if he kept this up, he might be complimenting you in your eulogy instead.

you huffed, getting up from the bed. he moved to the edge.

"oh, come on, don’t go all shy on me now," he teased, grabbing your wrist and guiding you back between his spread legs. your eyes met, and you felt a pull analogous to that of a tidal force, the moon luring the sea. luke was drawing you in, closer, your faces mere inches apart.

"can i?" he asked softly, his breath warm against your lips. you both knew what he wanted; the look in his eyes, gentle and full of longing, left no room for confusion.

you gave a small nod.

and then he kissed you.

luke castellan was kissing you, and your mind couldn’t form a single coherent thought. 

it started light, a tender brush of lips, a fleeting test of waters. but then he deepened it, his hands framing your jaw, tilting your head down slightly. his fingertips burned against your skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake, like sun rays piercing through a canopy.

"i need to breathe," you gasped heavily after a long blissful moment.

there was a stupidly boyish grin on his face as he took in your reddened figure, and you buried your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment.

luke chuckled, prying your hands away from your face. “no need to be embarrassed,” he teased, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “unless you think that was bad. in which case, i take offense.”

you groaned, dramatically flopping back onto the bed. “it wasn’t bad, castellan.”

his grin widened. “oh? so you liked it?”

before you could answer, the door suddenly burst open with a loud BANG, sending both of you scrambling. a stream of ice-cold water shot through the air, hitting luke square in the chest.

“found you!” percy’s triumphant voice rang through the cabin as he wielded an oversized water gun, annabeth standing beside him with an equally smug expression.

luke groaned, throwing his head back against the mattress. “i hate you both.”

“shouldn’t have run.” annabeth smirked.

you barely held back your laughter as luke shot you a betrayed look. “oh, you think this is funny?”

percy pumped the water gun, aiming it at you now. “you’re awfully close to the fugitive, so you might be guilty by association.”

“percy, don’t you dare—”

a second later, another jet of water hit you right in the shoulder, making you yelp. the next few moments were chaos—luke scrambling to shield you, you trying to escape, and annabeth yelling something about percy being a traitor as she too was hit by a stream of water.

safe to say, your cabin did not survive the onslaught.