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It wasn’t as easy of a decision on what you should do with her tonight, though. You were getting cabin fever with all the identical hotel rooms you’ve been living in while The Marauders were on their tour, and you suspected Olive was in the same boat. 

So, you decided to go back to the old days when the band first started going on long tours, when you would stay in the dressing room for the length of the performance. You and Remus figured it would be soundproof enough backstage, but you still insisted on pulling out the baby headphones you had bought just in case before she was even born. You were only planning on using them if it got especially loud backstage, yet you tried them on anyway. 

They were massive on her, but they kept her safe and happy. Plus, she was pretty damn adorable with them on—not that she wasn’t all the time, but definitely cuter than normal with those giant headphones. 

Waiting for the show to start, Remus bounced Olive on his lap while you watched the rest of the guys run through their current individual pre-show rituals. 

It had been quite a while since you’ve been backstage with the band right before a show, and you honestly forgot how entertaining it was. 

James was trying to solve the same Rubik’s cube he’s been working on for years to warm up his fingers, Peter was doing the daily crossword in the local newspaper, and Sirius was trying to multitask by doing his vocal warmups and his makeup at the same time. 

It was really a terrible combination of tasks, as Sirius kept on messing up his eyeliner and then trying to suppress his favourite swear words for your daughter’s sake. 

You wanted to tell him off, but it was really too fun to watch for you to intervene.

A minute or so after Sirius finally finished his look, the boys’ manager knocked on the dressing room door and reminded them that they have to go on stage soon. 

Remus thanked him, and the guys all started getting ready to go. He kept Olive in his arms for as long as he could, until it was just the three of you in the room after everyone was already headed to the stage. 

When he finally had to let her go, Remus made sure he gave you both a proper goodbye. 

“I’ll be back soon. Just over 2 hours, then we can all go home.” He kissed you softly, but deeply. He always does this as a way of saying goodbye, kissing you like he might never do it again, but he doesn’t want you to think about it. 

When his lips left yours and he slouched down to blow a raspberry on Olive’s tummy, you sighed quietly. “A hotel, not home.” 

He looked at you sympathetically as he collected his drumsticks from the table beside you and stored them in his back pocket for the time being. 

“Isn’t home anywhere where we’re all together?” He said, trying to lift your spirits. “But we’ll be home home soon enough. And I won’t be on tour again for a while, and we can be all together as much as we want.”

That did make you feel better. Even though you loved that Remus was living his dream with his best friends and giving you and Olive a great life, it did get stressful from time to time. 

Privacy violations by paparazzi and media outlets, insecurity that sometimes got the best of you on both sides of the relationship, and of course, The Marauders going on world tours that were fun, but still somewhat torture. They made it so you had to choose between leaving home for months, or being away from Remus—not that there was any difference between those two. 

You didn’t want to get emotional right when Remus had to go perform, so you smiled and reminded him that it was time for you to part ways for the evening. 

“They’re waiting for you out there.” 

A grin graced your husband’s face. “They can wait a little longer.” 

“They paid to see you.” You reminded him. 

“And I'll personally refund all of them if I don't go out.” 

“Then we'll be out of money, and we'll both have to get new jobs and we'll never have any time with just the three of us.”

Remus pretended to think over your point for a second. “You’re right. I guess I have to go out and perform, then.”

“Put on a good show, honey. We'll see you soon.” 

While saying goodbye to him, you raised Olive’s arm so you could wave at Remus for her as he walked out of the dressing room. Her face was already forming a pout when she watched her dad leave to go do his job, but you wouldn’t let that morph into anything more. 

You turned her around so you could both look at each other, then you pressed a kiss to her chubby cheek.

“None of that, sweetheart. We’ll see him again in no time.” 

Laying her down beside you on the couch, you reach down into the baby bag you never go anywhere without and pick out some of her favourite toys from their specific pocket; hopefully those will keep her distracted and happy. 

◆◇◆◇◆

The toys didn’t work as well as you thought they would. They kept Olive busy for about an hour, but she seemed to snap out of her happy baby daze out of nowhere. 

She started crying and nothing was working to calm her down. She wasn’t hungry, she didn’t need to be changed, and nothing you had brought for this very reason was working. 

You knew the only thing that could quell her upset was outside and on the stage, playing drums for a stadium of fans. But even though she and Remus both wished they could spend all hours of the day together, you just didn’t know how that could work.  

And then you remembered the headphones. 

The sound backstage hadn’t been that loud at all while The Marauders were playing, so you honestly hadn’t thought about them since you and Remus packed them before you left the hotel. 

But this could work. You could use them to help both you and Olive right now. So that’s what you did.

You dug through your bag and pulled the noise-cancelling headphones from the bottom of the bag, where they had sat untouched for the longest time. After picking them up with a tiny ‘aha’, you smiled at your daughter and told her that she would soon be seeing her dad. 

She had calmed down somewhat due to the mere mention of Remus, but she was still wailing in your arms. You bounced her lightly while you walked down the halls of the stadium. 

“It’s okay, honey.” You cooed at Olive, despite the fact that she couldn’t hear a thing. “You’re gonna tire yourself out and fall asleep before you even get to see Daddy. We don’t want that, do we?”

Although, maybe her crying herself to sleep wouldn’t be so bad. 

It still wasn’t an option in your mind. Your daughter wanted to see her dad, so over to Remus you’ll go. 

Once you got to the stage door, a burly security guard gave you a questioning look. You supposed he wasn’t used to a woman and a baby wanting to go into the wings during a rock concert. But he was just there to do his job, not judge, so he let you through when you showed him your ID. 

You kept checking Olive’s face to see her expressions and gauge if everything was too loud for her. Her look didn’t deviate from the bothered expression her face took on when you started walking with her, so you assumed the headphones were cancelling out the noise, just as they were made for. 

Nobody who was working backstage seemed to mind you being there, so you found an extra stool in a dark corner and pulled it so you could sit and watch the band. 

Based just on how Olive was moving in your arms, you knew she had spotted her dad behind the cymbals he was smashing across the stage. Pointing towards Remus, you whispered to her again even though she couldn’t hear you. “Look! Who’s that? Who’s over there?”

She seemed to be cheered up enough just from seeing Remus, so your hypothesis was proven correct. Things were shaping up to be a good night. 

You swayed and headbanged—as lightly as possible—since just because Olive couldn’t enjoy the loud music doesn’t mean you had to ignore it too. 

The current song ended, and James was talking to the crowd while Sirius drank some much-needed water after all that singing. While taking a swig, the two familiar faces in the wings of the stage caught his eye, and he just had to share what he was seeing with the drummer. 

He practically skipped over to Remus, who was also catching his breath from performing and pointed you out. Your husband’s eyes scanned the area until he found you, and his face immediately broke out into a smile—and so did your daughter’s. 

Back in the dressing room, you were hesitant if you should leave at all or if you should just wait out Olive’s tantrum, but the matching looks on your husband and daughter’s faces right now was proof that you made the right decision. 

Olive made grabby hands towards her dad across the stage, and Remus waved right back and blew a kiss in your direction. You weren’t quite sure if it was aimed at you or your little girl, but it made you blush either way. 

He pointed to the setlist taped to the ground beside him and hid his hand behind his bass drum so the audience wouldn’t see his gesture; he held up three fingers to let you know there would be three more songs until he could get up and give you two his full attention. You knew they would most definitely be doing an encore after they finished, but at least they could all have a small break after the main show.  

You nodded to show him you understood, but his attention was already grabbed back by James giving him the sign that it was time to get back into the music. Not even taking more than a second to prepare, Remus was back in the groove and started playing the next song on the list, effortlessly and perfectly. 

The last few songs of the main set were some of your favourites from the band’s discography, but you had to admit that you couldn’t enjoy them as much as you usually would. 

It was mainly because you were somewhat scared of an impending mood swing out of your daughter now that her father’s attention had left her, but also because these three songs were standing in between you and your husband like a brick wall right now. You just had to remind yourself that once they hit that last note and said their goodbyes to the crowd, that wall would be temporarily smashed once more. 

But now, they were at the end of the concert. The crowd was cheering like they just had the best night of their lives—you don’t doubt that they did—and Remus was throwing his sticks into the sea of hands desperate for a morsel of The Marauders. 

His rockstar persona was dropped the second those drumsticks left his hands, and he was rushing to the wings to be with you and Olive, a wide smile strung across his cheeks.

 He pulled you two out into the hall so the crowd’s noise could be in the background. He knew they would be cheering for an encore in a minute; as much as he loved that sound, he would rather hear you. 

“She was getting pretty fussy and I knew you were the only thing that would calm her down.” You explained to Remus before he could even ask. 

You were afraid he would be upset with you bringing her outside of the dressing room, but he didn’t seem fazed at all. He gently took Olive from your arms and cooed over her. 

“You missed me so much you dragged your mum out here so you could see me, huh?” Remus asked her. “You know I missed you too, princess. Both of you.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should get the guys to shorten the setlist so you aren’t away from us for too long, then.”

He didn’t respond, but you know that he had brought up the idea of shorter tours to the others now that he and James were both fathers. 

You watched lovingly as Remus kept moving Olive’s hand away from the glitter on his face that she was so desirous to touch. You wished you all could stay in this moment forever, but the audience’s chants for an encore were getting louder and louder and you knew the scene in front of you couldn’t last much longer. 

Right on schedule, James strutted up and tapped Remus on the shoulder with a brand new pair of drumsticks. 

“We’ve gotta go back out there, mate. Time to part ways with your girls once again.”

Remus wouldn’t put up a fight. He handed Olive back to you and blew one more kiss at you two as a goodbye.

The doors opened and a cacophony of fan cheers hit your ears. It was a lot, but it just reminded you that all those people were waiting for your husband, so you could wait a few more minutes. 

Just two final songs, then you could all go home.

“Close your eyes,” you command softly as your hand slides up his face, your thumb finding its way to his cheekbone to brush off some powdery fallout.

Sirius hums in protest. “You said I didn’t have to right now.”

“Now I’m saying you do,” your voice is teasing, yet he finds it melodic.

Sirius playfully huffs but lets his eyes flutter closed, reasoning with himself that while he may not be able to see you, he can relish in your touch. The hands on your waist travel to the small of your back to ease you closer until you stand between his legs, which he presses into your sides once he has you where he wants you.

You graciously let your boyfriend move you as he pleases while you coat your eyeshadow brush in a murky blue pigment. You give it a tap on the edge of the palette to shake off any excess before returning the bristles to his eyelid. You’re going for a smokey blue look tonight, incorporating Sirius' staple component: glitter, of course.

Your pinky grazes his neck as you move to tilt his head, giving you better access to the left side of his face. You feel a content rumble from his throat below the tip of your finger.

Sirius’ large hands slowly drag up and down your back until they diverge, one going up to rest between your shoulder blades and the other stooping lower until he can grab at the back of your thigh.

You ignore the way it has your stomach in knots. Sirius is trying to distract you with the way his hand curls around your leg, his fingertips brushing gently against your inner thigh. But he's due to be on stage any minute now, so you need to finish his eyeshadow swiftly and send him on his way.

The shiver down your spine is goes ignored as you place the eyeshadow brush on the table. Your hands find either side of his jaw as you tilt his head side to side, making sure you're happy with your blending of the shades of blue.

"Done?" Sirius asks, eye still closed.

"Almost."

You find a clean, new brush— the one you like for packing on pigment— and dip it into a shimmery, blue glitter. You begin to pack it onto his lids. If you had been doing your own makeup, you would normally hold a tissue or piece of card stock under your eye to catch any specks of glitter that rained down on your cheeks. Sirius, however, likes the way the excess glitter looks, sometimes even opting to smudge extra below his eyes, dragging it nearly halfway down his cheeks.

Once finished with the glitter, you do the same as before, turning his head in your hands to inspect your work.

"Done now?" Sirius is getting fidgety. He can usually sit pretty for you, captivated by your beauty, he says. But since he had to be cheeky and force you to command that his eyes be closed, he's getting a little antsy.

"Patience," you mean to scold him, but you can never waver your tone from amusement with him.

Originally, this is the finished product that you planned. But upon seeing it, you think he needs a pop of brightness. Choosing a more precise packing brush for the job, you add a white shimmer to his inner corners.

As you pull the brush away from his face, you're instantly happy with your decision.

"Okay, open," you say warmly.

Sirius is more than happy to oblige. You're inspecting the shadow in your usual way and Sirius drinks you in. Your teeth drag over your bottom lip, and he can barely help himself from capturing it in between his own pearly whites.

Your gaze is scrutinizing, and Sirius can tell that you're not all the way happy with the look.

"What is it?" Sirius asks. Expecting something to be off, his hand travels from between your shoulder blades to the nape of your neck, playing with your hairs there the way you like in an effort to bring you comfort.

"No, it's rather lovely. It's just—" your eyes dart down to his lips and it takes a lot of restraint to not interrupt you by smashing his own against them— "I know you usually only do your eyes, but this look would be stunning with some glossy lips."

"Yeah?" Sirius is the one eyeing your lips now, "Like what you have on now?"

You're wearing a pinky, translucent gloss with flecks of glitter in it. For Sirius, you were thinking any old clear gloss would do, but the more glitter the better.

You tilt your head side to side, weighing the options.

"That could work, let me grab it out of my—"

Any restraint Sirius once had snaps, and your words are lost on your tongue when he pulls you in by your neck, capturing your lips in a fervid kiss.

You're not even caught off guard, used to being interrupted by Sirius' lips.

"You can't expect to run that pretty mouth of yours for long before I can't resist a taste," he always says.

His one hand remains on the back of your thigh, his fingertips digging into your pillow soft skin when your lips part for him, allowing his tongue entrance. He can taste the vodka cran you've been sipping, prompting a guttural sound from his throat that vibrates against your lips.

When he pulls away from you, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth like he'd been longing to, dragging them over the plump flesh slowly until your lip freely bounces back into place.

"How's that look?" Sirius asks, his voice huskier than usual.

Your eyes flick down to his lips, slightly swollen and coated in a sheen of your shiny pink gloss.

"You're a dream, baby," you say breathlessly, running a thumb around his plush lips to capture the excess gloss, "Wanna see?"

You don't wait for his answer before you're snatching up a hand mirror, ready to show off tonight's eye look.

"Stunning as always," Sirius murmurs, admiring your handiwork with quiet approval. When you weren't around, his makeup consisted of a smudge of glitter to his lids with the pad of his finger. Though, despite your willingness to teach, he'd never risk sharpening his skills, worried there would be less moments like these in the future if he did.

"That's just my canvas," you muse, smoothing your thumb against his jawline.

There's a knock on the door, jolting you out of your moment of admiration. A muffled voice calls, "You're on in five, Sirius!"

Sirius doesn't seem phased, a smirk dancing on his lips as he pushes your body close again, "I guess we have a few more minutes on our hands."

By the time has to rush to stage, you've had to hastily apply a new coat of gloss on both him and yourself, the original layer having been thoroughly kissed away.

and he stops.

completely.

your eyes meet, and it’s like the air shifts. his expression freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air where it was reaching for a cigarette. his dark eyes widen and for a split second, he looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“hi,” you manage, your voice steady despite the way his gaze sets your nerves alight.

“hi,” he says back, low and unsteady, like the word has weight to it.

enzo glances up from the documents, breaking the moment. “you must be the journalist.”

“that’s me,” you reply, tearing your eyes away from mattheo. you try to focus as enzo introduces himself, then theo, but you can still feel mattheo’s gaze on you, sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“and that’s mattheo,” theo says, motioning toward him with a smirk.

you glance back at him, and he still hasn’t looked away. his lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

“nice to meet you,” you say, your voice soft.

he nods, and for a moment, his mask of cool indifference slips. something flickers in his expression, raw and disarming, before he quickly looks down, fumbling with the cigarette in his hand.

“so,” you start, clearing your throat as you sit down across from them, trying your best to look at ease. “let’s dive in.”

the interview begins, and you do your best to focus, asking theo about his influences, enzo about their songwriting process. the room fills with easy banter, laughter spilling over as theo tells a story about their disastrous first gig.

but mattheo barely speaks.

he answers when you ask, short, clipped responses that seem out of place for someone so magnetic on stage. but every time you glance up, his eyes are on you, and they’re not just looking. they’re studying.

“mattheo, how do you balance writing lyrics and playing lead guitar?” you ask, hoping to draw him into the conversation.

his lips twitch into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “it’s not something i think about too much. it just… happens.”

enzo snorts. “he’s being modest. he’s a control freak in the studio.”

“shut up,” mattheo mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. his eyes flicker back to yours, softening. “it’s just about the feel of it, you know?”

you nod, scribbling down his response, but you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering.

“so what about you?” he asks suddenly, cutting through enzo’s attempt to steer the conversation back.

you blink. “what about me?”

“why’d you start writing?” his voice is quieter now, laced with something you can’t quite place.

“uh, i…” you falter, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “i guess i’ve always loved telling stories. finding the human side of things, the parts people don’t usually see.”

he leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “and do you find it?”

“sometimes,” you say honestly, holding his gaze even though it makes your chest feel tight. “not always.”

his lips part, like he’s about to say something, but theo cuts in before he can.

“are we just gonna let him hijack the interview?” theo teases, raising a brow at mattheo. “she’s here for all of us, you know.”

“right,” mattheo mutters, sitting back, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

the rest of the interview passes in a blur. you jot down notes, ask follow-up questions, laugh along with theo’s jokes, but mattheo stays quiet, only speaking when directly addressed. and yet, his presence fills the room, drawing your attention back to him over and over.

when it’s finally over, you gather your things, feeling oddly reluctant to leave.

“thanks for your time,” you say, standing.

theo and enzo wave you off with easy grins, already diving into some argument about their setlist, but mattheo follows you to the door.

“wait,” he says, his voice low.

you turn, your pulse quickening as he steps closer.

“you’re coming to the show tonight, right?”

you nod. “i’ll be covering it.”

his gaze softens, something like relief flickering across his face. “good.” he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “can i… ask you something?”

“sure.”

he swallows, his confidence faltering for the first time. “do you… i don’t know, do you believe in things happening for a reason?”

his question catches you off guard, but there’s something so vulnerable in his expression that you can’t brush it off.

“sometimes,” you say carefully. “why?”

he shakes his head, a small, almost self-deprecating laugh escaping him. “i don’t know. it’s just… the second you walked in, it felt like…” he trails off, glancing away, then back at you. “like something shifted.”

your breath catches, the honesty in his voice cutting through every defense you have.

“mattheo—”

“sorry,” he says quickly, stepping back. “i probably sound insane. forget i said anything.”

you want to say something, anything, but the door swings open behind you, theo calling him back inside.

“i’ll see you tonight,” mattheo says, his voice softer now. and as you leave, his eyes follow you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

and you know.

you know he felt it too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : as an aspiring journalist i wish this was me fr, thank you for this request !!! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @friedfreyfries, @azure-drag0ness

James Potter was many things. Loud, bright, reckless, funny, infuriatingly charming, he wore his heart on his sleeve so openly you wondered how it hadn’t been stolen a thousand times over. But most of all, he was… golden.

Golden in the way he laughed so hard his glasses slipped down his nose. Golden in the way he loved-fierce, reckless, unashamed. Golden in the way he looked at you, like you were the only person worth seeing in a crowded room.

And you? You were the opposite. The one who liked her corner in the common room instead of the middle of it. The one who found it easier to roll her eyes at his antics than to admit you adored him. You were sharp where he was soft, quiet where he was loud, reserved where he was open. If James was a golden retriever, bounding towards everyone with his tail wagging, you were a sleek black cat-independent, cool, pretending you didn’t care.

Except you did. Especially about him.

Which is why you were standing in front of him now, a wrapped box in your hands, feeling ridiculously self-conscious while he sat cross-legged on the floor of the Gryffindor common room. His birthday had turned into a whole party, Sirius had arranged butterbeer and firewhisky (of course), Remus had tried to keep things under control (failed), and Peter had eaten his body weight in chocolate frogs. But eventually, when the noise had dulled and most people had drifted away, you’d slipped back upstairs and retrieved the present you’d hidden under your bed.

James looked up at you now, his hair sticking in every direction (as usual), cheeks flushed from laughter, still glowing like he’d been lit from the inside.

“What’s this?” His voice softened as he reached for the box.

You tossed it onto his lap. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Potter.”

His grin widened instantly, boyish and impossible to resist. “You got me a present?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’ve been whining about it for months.”

James blinked at you, confused, but then started to carefully unwrap the package. You watched him, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed even though your heart was beating too fast.

When he finally peeled back the paper and lifted the lid, his hands stilled. His breath caught audibly.

Inside was the present you’d worked weeks to get, an authentic signed Chudley Cannons Quidditch jersey, one he’d been mooning over since last summer, only to complain about how impossible it was to find. You’d tracked one down quietly, secretly, slipping in extra hours in the library helping Madam Pince to earn a bit of coin and calling in a favor from a Ravenclaw who had connections at the Quidditch supply shop. It had taken ages, and Merlin, he’d better not cry because of it-

“Oh my Godric,” James whispered. His voice cracked. “No way. No bloody way.”

He held it up reverently, his hands shaking. “This is… this is real. This is- Merlin, this is signed. Y/N…” His eyes flicked up to you, wide and glassy with disbelief. “You got me this?”

You shifted on your feet, suddenly wishing you hadn’t. “Don’t act so shocked, Potter. Someone had to stop you from sulking about it every other day.”

But James wasn’t even listening. He was staring at the jersey like it was a sacred object, his lips parted, tears dangerously close to falling. And then he looked at you. Really looked at you, like you’d just given him the world wrapped in brown paper.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice thick. “You don’t understand. I’ve wanted this since I was a kid. I-bloody hell, no one’s ever-” He broke off, biting his lip hard, like he was trying to keep himself together.

Your chest ached. You shrugged, trying for nonchalance even though your throat felt tight. “Yeah, well. Happy birthday, Golden Boy.”

James let out a shaky laugh and then, before you could stop him, launched himself forward and wrapped you in his arms. He was all warmth and scent, soap, grass, a faint hint of firewhisky, and he squeezed you so tightly it knocked the air right out of you.

“James,” you grumbled, though you didn’t actually push him away.

He buried his face in your shoulder. “I love you.” It tumbled out in a rush, muffled but clear.

Your heart stuttered. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, and Merlin, he was glowing. His hazel eyes were glassy with emotion, his grin soft and wobbly, his hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted. He looked like someone who couldn’t believe his luck. “I’m not, Y/N. I love you. I’ve loved you forever, and you-Merlin, you-you went and did this for me? You’ve got no idea what that means.”

Heat crept up your neck. You forced your lips into a smirk. “It means I’m an idiot who encourages your Quidditch obsession.”

James laughed, the kind of laugh that lit the whole room. But then his face softened again, almost serious. “No. It means you care. Even if you pretend you don’t.”

You swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. “Don’t push it, Potter.”

He grinned, leaning closer, brushing his nose against yours in that shameless, puppyish way of his. “You’re my best thing, you know that?”

“Your jersey is your best thing,” you corrected.

“Nope.” He shook his head, curls falling into his face. “That’s second best. You’re first.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest swelled with warmth you couldn’t hide. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” His grin grew softer, almost boyish. “Well, you love me anyway.”

You sighed, pretending to be exasperated, though your lips curved despite yourself. “Yeah. I do.”

And James Potter-golden, hopeless, head-over-heels James-kissed you right there, jersey forgotten at his side, like you were the only gift he’d ever wanted.

You can't help but laugh at Bucky's annoyed yet patient expression as Alexei continues to praise all of Bucky's accomplishments. You're leaning against the counter, watching the two of them, when you feel Bob come up next to you.

You're about to raise the apple to your mouth when Bob's hand reaches out to grab your wrist, raising it to his mouth. Your eyes meet as he takes a bite right over the one you had just taken.

The whole room seems to stand still as you stare at him. He finally lowers and lets go of your wrist. You glance down at the apple and the impression his teeth left.

"Do you want it?" You dumbly ask, and he just smiles.

"I got what I wanted," he says and brushes past you. You continue to stupidly gawk at him as he joins in on Bucky and Alexei's conversation, but there's a faint smirk on his face.

"Yeah, he sure did," Yelena snickers into your ear, and you're not quite sure what she means.

the coffee mug incident

You're on your third cup of coffee, and it's only 9 am. You should slow it down, but you have a whole afternoon of paperwork to deal with, so you need an extra boost of caffeine.

You're adding in some seasonal creamer Yelena found in the store, and says it's the best thing she's ever tried.

"It's like a cup of Fall," she was telling you last night.

You're sitting on the island, as you stare blankly at the clock above the stove, when Bob walks in. He takes in your sleepy appearance, you're still wearing your pajama pants that have little ghosts on them, and he's sure you're wearing one of Yelena's hoodies.

"Morning," he says, making you startle slightly.

"Jesus, I didn't think anyone else was up," you say, clutching your coffee mug closer to your chest.

"It's Saturday morning," he points out, and you watch him get his own mug out before he puts the electric kettle on. He turns to face you, leaning against the counter.

"Again, why are you up?" You tease.

"Couldn't really sleep."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later," he nods at the mug in your hands and asks, "What are you drinking?"

"Coffee, what else? Yelena got this new creamer last night and told me to try it, so..." you trail off with a slight shrug. Bob pushes off the counter, drawing nearer, and your body stills.

"Mind if I try?"

You give him a weird look. Bob hates coffee. He even said so himself.

"Sure, go for it."

Your hands brush as you pass him your coffee mug; you make sure the side your lips haven't touched is facing him.

Again, he's turning it, and before you can warn him that you're wearing Chapstick, his lips are where yours were. Your eyes lock as he takes a sip.

He lets out a slight hum as he passes the mug back to you. Hands brushing again, sending a slight tingling sensation down your spine.

You're a bit speechless as Bob turns back to the kettle and fixes his tea.

The last thing he says to you is, "Tastes like cherries."

The creamer was salted caramel.

the chopsticks incident

"Who the hell doesn't know how to use chopsticks?" Ava asks. You, her, and Yelena are having a girls' night and ordered way too much sushi.

"A lot of people," Yelena says as she drowns her sushi in soy sauce, and Ava grimaces. "Bob, quit lurking, and get in here!" Yelena calls out to Bob, who sheepishly reveals himself.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," He says, hovering slightly by the entrance.

"Do you want some sushi?" Yelena asks, and Bob comes closer, staring at the sushi spread.

"Uh...I haven't had a lot of sushi before."

"That's okay, try this one," Yelena replies, offering him a piece of her California roll, "there's no raw fish in this one."

You notice how he avoids using chopsticks as he picks up a piece.

"C'mon, join us," Ava says, motioning to the empty stool next to you. "I wanna tell you about how I kicked Walker's ass this morning."

Bob slides in next to you, and suddenly, you're feeling hyperaware of everything he's doing. His breathing, the way his leg brushes against yours, even the way he's leaning closer to you as he laughs at Ava's story.

"What do you have?" His voice draws you back to the table. Ava and Yelena are talking about something, not paying attention to you or Bob, and he's staring at you.

"It's a sweet potato roll." You hand him your chopsticks.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I uh, don't know how to use chopsticks," he sounds a bit embarrassed.

Before you realize what you're doing, you're picking a piece up and holding it up to his mouth. Bob doesn't even seem surprised at the fact that you want to feed him.

It seems so natural.

That's how the rest of the night continues, you and Bob eating from your chopsticks.

Later that night, Yelena pulls you aside.

"That was quite domestic of you," she says with a teasing smile.

"What was?"

"You, Bob, and the chopsticks."

"Oh," you feel a little embarrassed now, "it's nothing. I mean, he doesn't know how to-why are you laughing?"

Yelena wipes away a tear. "Yes, he does."

"What?"

"He knows how to use them."

"Why would he lie?"

She rolls her eyes. "Why do you think?"

the balloon incident

The team is trying to throw Bucky a surprise birthday party, and you, Ava, and Bob are stuck on balloon duty.

"We're not seriously blowing up over a hundred balloons, right?" Ava slightly complains as she ties off the balloon she just finished.

"God, no," you reply, who knew blowing up balloons could leave you feeling so exhausted.

Bob is the only one not out of breath, and there's a massive pile of blown-up balloons next to his feet.

"Although, at this rate, I think Bob has it under control," Ava teases and gets up. "I'm gonna go help Yelena with the cake. Have fun, you two." She throws you a sly wink as she leaves.

"Bucky doesn't even seem like the balloon type," Bob says as he messes with a balloon.

"Bucky isn't even the birthday type."

"I can't believe Walker didn't bother getting one of those stupid machines that blow up balloons," you say with a slight pout.

"Aw, are you getting tired already?"

You hit Bob over the head with a balloon. "Sorry, not all of us have superhuman abilities."

"Here, let me."

He takes the half-blown balloon from you, and you watch as he blows it up.

"Why do you keep doing that?" You finally ask as you continue to stare at him.

"Do what?"

"You know what."

He's fighting back a smile. "No, I don't think I do."

"Why do you keep-ugh forget it." Saying it out loud sounds stupid. Why do you keep doing those indirect kisses?

You grab another balloon and just as it touches your lips, Bob is grabbing it from you and blowing it up.

"Wow, I wish Bob would blow up my balloon," Yelena says as she walks in on the two of you.

the milkshake incident

You and Bob are in the kitchen, and he's showing you how to make one of his favorite milkshakes.

You're giggling as Bob makes a show of adding the marshmallow fluff and fudge sauce.

"What the hell are you making?" Walker asks as he enters the kitchen.

"A chocolate, marshmallow fluff, peanut butter, and fudge milkshake."

Walker clutches his stomach. "I think I got diabetes just listening to that."

"You just don't have taste," Bob replies as he slaps on the lid and blends up the concoction.

Once it's done, Bob pours it into a glass, topping it off with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

He sticks a crazy straw in and hands it to you. "For you."

You're aware of Bob watching you as you take a sip. It's undoubtedly sweet, very sweet, but good.

"Mhh, it's really good."

Walker scoffs. "You're lying. Here, let me try." He reaches for the glasses, but Bob stops him and nods to what's left in the blender.

"Touchy," Walker mutters as he grabs the blender and leaves the kitchen.

"Do you really like it?" Bob asks, turning back to you.

"I mean, it's probably something I wouldn't have a lot, but it's really good," you say before taking another sip, before holding it up to Bob.

He leans in to take a sip, but stops. His eyes lock onto yours before falling to your lips.

"You have some whipped cream on your lip," he murmurs.

"I do?' Your voice sounds far away; the only thing you're aware of is how fast your heart is beating, the way Bob is leaning in closer to your face, and how his hand is moving to your waist.

"Yeah." Is the last thing you register before his lips brush against yours as your eyes close. The kiss is hesitant as he waits for your reaction, and then you're leaning into him, deepening the kiss.

You feel him smile against your lips as he kisses you back, and he's lifting you up, setting you on the counter. You forgot you're still holding the glass, and Bob takes it from you, placing it somewhere, all the while not breaking the kiss.

The only thing running through your head is his name, how his hand is on the back of your neck, the other in your hair, the way his lips are moving against yours. Confident, steady, needy.

You're fairly certain your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you reach out to pull him closer.

“Where are you going?” 

You turn back to the owner of the voice, Regulus lingering by his office’s door. “To grab a snack.” 

“It’s dinner time,” he says, as if he’s only remembering it now. 

“Yeah smart ass,” you fix him a look. “That’s why I’m going to grab a snack.” 

Regulus doesn’t look all too pleased, “wait here.”

You contemplate doing as you’re told or just heading towards one of the vending machines so you could get back to work. 

Regulus comes back out, his coat, and yours, in hand as he picks up your purse. He makes his way towards you, helping you into your coat despite your confused stare before slipping his own on. “We’re going to dinner.” 

“Are you paying?” You were a simple person. A free meal is a free meal. So when Regulus nods, you smile at him. “Let’s go.” 

The two of you begin walking towards the elevator, a few employees bidding goodbyes and good nights here and there. “Have you thought about it?”

“About?” Regulus murmurs, unsure of what you’re trying to say. 

“That girl?” You say in a questioning tone, a bit muddled by his cluelessness. “The one Sirius said you liked?” 

Sirius and his constantly running mouth. Why did Regulus ever tell his brother that he had his eyes set on someone he’d never understand. He made a stupid decision and now he has to face its consequences.  

“Oh.” He says as if he’s only remembering it now, as if that ‘girl’ wasn’t standing besides him as he attempts to take her out to dinner. “What about her?” 

You turn to look at him and Regulus can’t help but turn to meet your eyes in return. “Have you thought about how you’d get the girl?” 

“Not really.” The elevator dings, the door opens and you were quickly greeted by James who was not only a friend of Sirius but a model who was married to one of Black’s most well known designers. “Should I have?” 

“Should you have what?” James asks. 

You turn to James. “Think about how he’d get the girl.” 

“Oh really?” He says in a knowing tone. “Well isn’t this exciting?” 

“Don’t start Potter,” Regulus clearly annoyed, the amused smiles on the other two occupying the elevator not missed by him. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be home with Harry?” 

“Don’t try to change the topic,” James says with a slight frown. “You know I could always give your advice, right?” 

Begrudgingly, Regulus nods. “Yes.” 

You grin, finding the situation more than entertaining. Ever since Regulus stepped up as the CFO in a company where most of his brother’s friends worked at, he was more often than not, babied. And you can’t help but find it a bit adorable. 

“Good,” James says. The elevator door dings again, signalling that they’ve finally made it to their destination. “Now give the lady her purse back.” 

It was only then you’d realised that you never took your stuff off of Regulus’ hands, him having held onto it without a single complaint. 

“Are you going to dinner?” A nod from the both of you had James stepping out of the elevator. “Have fun on your date!” 

There’s no point in correcting him, it has happened a hundred times by now. Whenever you and Regulus had plans, the Marauders — a team consisting of the CEO, two models (James and Remus), and one designer, never failed to call it a date. 

You meet Reg’s eyes with a small smile. “Shall we get started on our date?” 

Regulus fiddles with your bag still in his hand. A bag he’d asked Lily to design specifically for you. He returns your smile. “Lead the way.” 

Half a year of —what Sirius had called mindless pining later, Regulus finally caved in and went to his brother’s only married friend for advice. 

Once he heard James’ ‘advice’ he wishes more than anything to forget everything he’d said, and to not even attempt it had it not been Lily and Dorcas saying that it worked on them. 

Marlene had used the same methods as James to get the girl. So if it had worked twice then surely it would work again, right? 

Step one should in theory be easy. Rain was romantic, or at least it ideally is (as seen in chick flick), so ultimately, a confession under the pouring rain should do the trick. 

“You’re going to stand there and you’re going to tell her how you feel,” James says sternly. “You’re going to tell her what you want. That’s how you get the girl.” 

For some reason he doesn’t really believe him. But Sirius is patting him encouragingly on the back so he lets the fantasy of being swept away during a rainstorm mid confession fade away.  

He was going to make this work. 

The weather forecast was right. Today would be a rainy night, not too harsh but not a sprinkling either, it was perfect for him to try to win you over. Or at least try to. 

You were quick to open your door, not wasting a single second after him having rang your bell. “Regulus?” You ask, and when he doesn’t make the move to come in during the pouring rain, you follow up. “What are you doing? Get in.” 

The rain is now drenching his very expensive shoes. The droplets are cold, the wind is harsh, he was going pale, practically shivering but he was not going to give up so soon. “I need to talk to you,” he says, not moving an inch. 

“Yeah we can do that in here,” you say, clearly concerned for your friend. “Are you insane?” 

Regulus shakes his head, and you decide you’ve had enough, stepping into your home to grab an umbrella before running towards him, you quickly pull him into your house —not without reprimanding him. 

“What were you thinking?” You scold. “What’s so important you have to talk to me right now? In the pouring rain too.” 

Regulus finds that he likes it better when you’re like this. When you’ve yelling at him as you wrap a towel around him. This was why he loved you, you cared for him in every way that is nowhere near artificial. And he’s known that for a while now. So it was about time he did something about it. 

“I love you.” 

You pause in your step. Regulus assumes that you were on your way to find him something to change into based on your direction. You resume your way into your bedroom where a set of spare pyjamas were reserved for Regulus. Muttering about how much of an idiot he was on the way. 

You return soon after, pyjamas in hand. “Go shower, change. Then we’ll talk.” 

Again, Regulus finds himself being babied, this time though, instead of being babied by his brother and his friends, he was being babied by you. And he doesn’t think he minds it all too much. 

You sit him down at your vanity when he was done, a hand reaching for your hair dryer. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” you tell him after a while, your hand roaming around his curls as you attempt to dry it. “It’s not funny.”

Bewilderedly, Regulus says. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” 

“Really?” You laugh dryly. You then tsked, going over your words. “Then what about that girl? From a few months back?” 

“That was you,” he says after a beat. “It’s always been you.” 

You pull your hands away from him, setting the hairdryer down as you look at him, settling yourself on your vanity. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” 

He doesn’t fully understand what was going on but based on your words, and what he considers context clues, you might just reciprocate his feelings. “Because, I didn’t know how to.” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” 

“And it won’t,” Regulus says, cautiously reaching for your hand. You let him take it. “I want you for better or for worse and if you’re scared what might happen between us ruining our friendship then we can take it slow, I’d wait forever and ever for this.” 

Black family and their flair for dramatics, huh?

“Okay, let’s do this.” You take a deep breath. “Only if you promise me one thing though.” 

Regulus brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it. “Anything.” 

“Don’t do that again,” you tell him. “I’m not going to work for you if you have a massive cold, let alone kiss you.” 

“I promise,” Regulus says, smiling. “Now can I kiss you?” 

You nod, pushing yourself off of the vanity and closer to him, Regulus places a careful hand on your waist and pulls you in, just a second before your lips touch you hear a sniffle, and then, inevitably, Regulus shifts to his side, sneezing loudly. 

When he looks back at you, his nose is red, his lips are prominent pout as he processes the fact that you won’t be kissing anytime soon. 

You pat his cheeks (or cheekbones really). “Next time,” you tell him. “If you’ve waited half a year to tell me you love me then you can wait a week to kiss me.”

—from bee: i wrote this at 2am im tired help

The Hogwarts library was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. You sat at a corner table, your books spread out around you in organized chaos. Across from you, Regulus Black was scribbling notes into a neat scroll, his handwriting precise and elegant as always.

“You know,” you said, glancing up from your Arithmancy textbook, “if McGonagall saw how quickly you finish your homework, she’d probably faint.”

Regulus smirked without looking up. “That would only be amusing if I could get a picture of it. Do you think your brother would lend me his camera?”

You chuckled softly, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. “I doubt it. James would probably hex you before he even heard the question.”

“Well, that would be consistent with his behavior,” Regulus replied smoothly, dipping his quill into the ink. “Your brother has quite the flair for dramatics.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted with a grin. “But to be fair, you do have a bit of a reputation, Reggie.” You emphasized his nickname, knowing it always earned you a reaction.

The nickname made Regulus’s heart skip, though he’d never let it show. He looked down at his book to hide the small smile threatening to form. “I prefer ‘Regulus.’”

You suppressed a laugh "You always do."

Regulus paused, his quill hovering midair, and gave you a mock glare. “You do realize you’re the only person in the world who can get away with calling me that?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Oh, I know. And I fully intend to abuse that privilege.”

For a moment, Regulus’s usual stoic expression softened into something almost tender. “Lucky me,” he muttered, returning to his essay.

---

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Common Room

James Potter was pacing the length of the common room like a caged lion, his messy hair even more disheveled than usual. Sirius Black sat sprawled on the couch, watching his best friend with a bemused expression. Remus Lupin sat in an armchair nearby, a book in his lap, though his attention had long since shifted to James’s theatrics.

“I just don’t get it,” James exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why does she have to spend so much time with him of all people?”

“Because he’s tolerable, which is more than I can say for you sometimes,” Sirius quipped, earning a sharp glare from James.

“This isn’t funny, Padfoot,” James snapped. “Regulus is—he’s—well, he’s him.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the argument, James. Very compelling.”

“You know what I mean!” James groaned. “He’s a Slytherin, and not just any Slytherin—he’s a Black. What if he’s using her? Or trying to get information on us?”

“Regulus?” Sirius scoffed. “He’s not exactly running back to Mum and Dad with secrets, trust me. Besides, she can take care of herself.”

“That’s not the point!” James said, throwing himself into a chair. “She’s my little sister. She shouldn’t be hanging around someone like him.”

“Someone like who?” a calm voice interjected.

The three boys turned to see Lily Evans standing at the bottom of the staircase, her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.

“Lily, my love” James said, his tone softening immediately. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

Lily sighed, walking over to sit in the arm of James’s chair. Her arms going around his shoulders. “I think you need to trust her to make her own decisions. She’s not a child.”

“She’s sixteen,” James pointed out.

“And incredibly smart and capable,” Lily countered. “Besides, have you ever considered that maybe she sees something in Regulus that no one else does?”

James frowned, clearly unsatisfied. “You’re all against me,” he muttered.

“Not against you, mate,” Sirius said, barely hiding a grin. “Just enjoying the show.”

---

Back in the Library

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “I swear, if I have to write one more footnote for this essay, I’m going to scream.”

Regulus glanced up from his parchment. “If you’re trying to get us kicked out of the library, there are less dramatic ways to go about it.”

“Oh, come on, Reggie,” you said with a playful pout. “Live a little. Be a bad influence for once.”

He snorted softly. “If anyone here is the bad influence, it’s you.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Me? I’m an angel.”

“Angels don’t drag people out of bed at 6 a.m. to study for Arithmancy,” he pointed out.

“That was one time!” you protested, laughing. “And you needed the help.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a rare smile. “Did I?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of someone clearing their throat made you pause. Both turned to see James standing at the edge of the table, his arms crossed and a look of pure disapproval on his face.

“Hello, Regulus,” James said, his tone icy.

“Potter,” Regulus replied, his voice equally cool.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, James. What are you doing here?”

“I was just checking on my little sister,” James said pointedly, his eyes never leaving Regulus. “Making sure she wasn’t being...bothered.”

Regulus’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, you jumped in. “I’m not being bothered. In fact, we were having a perfectly pleasant afternoon until you showed up.”

“Pleasant?” James repeated, looking scandalized. “With him?”

“Yes, James, with him,” you said, exasperated. “Regulus is my friend.”

James looked like he wanted to argue, but before he could, Sirius and Remus appeared behind him, both looking far too amused by the situation.

“Fancy seeing you here, Reg,” Sirius said, his grin widening when Regulus scowled. “Having a nice time with y/n?”

“Go away, Sirius,” Regulus muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Remus chuckled, placing a hand on James’s shoulder. “Come on, Prongs. Let’s give them some space.”

“But—” James started to protest, only to be dragged away by Remus and Sirius.

You sighed, shaking your head as they disappeared. “Brothers,” you muttered.

Regulus watched you, his expression softening again. “You’re worth putting up with them,” he said quietly.

You blinked, caught off guard, but then smiled. “Careful, Reggie. You’re starting to sound almost charming.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, returning to his essay, though the faint smile on his lips remained.

You couldn’t help but smile at the way Regulus quickly masked his moment of softness with his usual cool demeanor. There was something so endearing about him when he wasn’t trying to be aloof.

“I’m serious, you know,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You don’t have to deal with James like that all the time. He’s... protective. Sometimes a little too much.”

“I’ve gathered that,” Regulus muttered. “He seems to think I’m a threat to your well-being.”

“Well, he’s not entirely wrong,” you said with a teasing grin. “You are a Slytherin, after all.”

Regulus shot you a sideways glance. “I’m not sure whether you’re insulting me or trying to be funny.”

“A bit of both, I suppose,” you replied, your voice light. “But, seriously. If it weren’t for James, I think you and I would have a much easier time hanging out in public.”

“I can manage it,” Regulus said with a shrug. “I’m used to... complicated situations.”

You studied him for a moment, your expression softening. “You don’t have to always act like you’ve got everything under control, Reggie. It’s okay to let your guard down sometimes.”

He met your gaze, his green eyes lingering on yours for a second longer than usual before he looked away, clearing his throat. “I suppose you wouldn’t let me live it down if I did.”

You chuckled, but there was a touch of warmth in your eyes. “Maybe not. But you’d have to admit, it’s a lot less exhausting to just be yourself for once.”

Before Regulus could respond, the library door swung open again, and the familiar chatter of students filled the otherwise peaceful room. You glanced toward the entrance and then back to Regulus, feeling a sense of quiet contentment washing over you. The constant push and pull of her relationship with her brother, the Black family, and everything in between seemed momentarily distant, as if it didn’t matter.

In that moment, it was just the two of you in the cozy corner of the library, sharing the rare peace of a late afternoon, without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

Regulus’s voice broke the silence. “You know, you’re probably right. I’m not always as... composed as I seem.”

You smiled, your eyes twinkling. “I’m glad you’re starting to realize that. I think I like you better this way.”

Regulus met your gaze, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I like you better too, y/n”

The day of the Quidditch match dawned crisp and clear, with a faint breeze sweeping across the Hogwarts grounds. The chatter of excited students filled the air as they made their way to the stands. Slytherin versus Hufflepuff was always an entertaining game, but one thing was out of the ordinary: y/n Potter, a proud Ravenclaw, was decked out in green and silver.

Specifically, you were wearing a well-worn Slytherin Quidditch jumper with the name "R. Black" and the number "7" embroidered on the back.

“Merlin’s beard!” James groaned, spotting his sister as he climbed into the stands with Sirius and Remus. “What are you wearing?”

You smirked, twirling in the jumper dramatically. “Oh, this old thing? Just a little something Reggie lent me.”

“You mean the thing you stole from him after pestering him for a week,” Sirius interjected, grinning. “Nice move, by the way.”

“I did not steal it,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “He gave it to me willingly.”

“After you badgered him into it,” James snapped, his face turning red. “y/n, you’re a Ravenclaw! You can’t just go around wearing Slytherin gear! Do you have any idea what people will say?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, stop being so dramatic, James. I’m supporting my friend. Is that a crime?”

“Friend,” James muttered under his breath, glaring at the pitch where Regulus was warming up on his broom. “That’s what we’re calling it now, is it?”

Sirius burst out laughing, clapping James on the back. “Relax, mate. It’s just a jumper.” He leaned closer, his grin turning mischievous. “Besides, you might want to get used to it. Never know—she might be wearing Slytherin colors at her wedding one day.”

James turned on Sirius, his eyes wide with horror. “Don’t. Even. Joke about that.”

Remus, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, finally chimed in. “You’re going to pop a vein, Prongs. Let her enjoy the game. It’s not like she’s waving a Dark Mark banner.”

You snorted, trying to hide your laughter. “Exactly. Listen to Remus. He’s the sensible one.”

James groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to hex Regulus if he so much as looks at you during this game.”

“Good luck with that,” you said smugly, turning your attention back to the field.

---

On the pitch

Regulus Black was used to being alone. Even in the middle of a roaring crowd, he never felt like anyone was truly there for him. But today was different.

As he circled the pitch, his sharp eyes scanning for the Snitch, he couldn’t help but glance at the stands. And there she was—y/n Potter, wearing his jumper, waving at him with a grin that made his heart stutter.

“What are you looking at, Black?” sneered one of the Hufflepuff Chasers as they zoomed past him.

“None of your business,” Regulus muttered, refocusing on the game. But the warmth spreading through his chest was impossible to ignore.

---

In the stands

James was practically vibrating with tension, his eyes glued to the field. “Did you see that? He looked at her. He looked at her!”

“Maybe because she’s literally wearing his name on her back,” Remus deadpanned, not looking up from the book he had brought to the game.

“Calm down, Prongs,” Sirius said, leaning back in his seat with an easy grin. “This is hilarious. I’ve never seen you this worked up about anything.”

“It’s not funny, Padfoot!” James snapped. “That’s my sister! And he’s—he’s him!”

“You mean your future brother-in-law?” Sirius teased, winking at you, who was doing your best to ignore them.

“You’re all insufferable,” James muttered, slumping back in his seat.

---

Post-Match Celebration

Slytherin won the match by a narrow margin, thanks to Regulus’s impeccable Snitch-catching skills. The team celebrated as they landed, but Regulus’s eyes were already searching for her.

You were waiting for him just outside the stands, your cheeks pink from the chilly air. When he approached, you grinned and held your arms out, showing off the jumper. “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, stepping closer.

He glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention before leaning in slightly. “You really wore it to the game?”

“Of course I did,” you said, your voice soft. “I’m your biggest fan, Reggie.”

His heart skipped a beat at the way you said his name. “You’re probably making your whole house mad right now”

“It's worth it.” you said cheekily, giving him a playful nudge. "Let's have a huge celebration! You won!"

"You know i hate those, right?" He said with his brows furrowed

"You're boring" you rolled your eyes but smiled, tugging on his arm as you both walked back to the castle.

He didn’t reply, but the way he seemed to relax and pull you close was answer enough. He loved having you around, even if he didn't admit it. You were like a shining star in his dark sky.

---

Meanwhile

James, watching from a distance with Sirius and Remus, groaned loudly. “I can’t take this. Someone stop them. Remus, you’re responsible. Do something!”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “What exactly do you want me to do, James? Tell your sister she’s not allowed to have friends?”

“Yes!” James said, throwing his hands in the air.

Sirius laughed so hard he almost fell over. “You’re ridiculous, Prongs. You’d better get used to it. She’s not a little kid anymore.”

“She’s sixteen!” James hissed.

“Exactly,” Sirius said with a smirk. “Old enough to make her own choices. And, hey, at least it’s my brother. Imagine if it were Snape.”

James looked horrified at the thought, and Sirius burst out laughing again.

As the group eventually walked back to the castle together, you and Regulus fell a few steps behind. James kept glancing over his shoulder, his protective instincts on high alert, but Sirius’s teasing and Remus’s calm reasoning kept him in check.

You were currently holed up on your dorm, covered in a bunch of blankets as you internally screamed and panicked. One would wonder, why were you in this state of hysteria? Because you had a dream. But not just any dream. A dream about kissing someone. And that someone was...

"REGGIE?" Dorcas yelled in disbelief, throwing her arms around the mound that was created by your body underneath the covers.

You mumbled something, but it was muffled by the blankets. "Honey, we can't hear you." Marlene said, sitting next to you.

You reluctantly poked your head out of the mound, immediately resting your head in her lap.

"What the hell am I supposed to do? I can't even look at Regulus..." you repeated, your eyes fluttering shut as Marlene gently played with your hair.

"Oh, come on. Yeah, it's embarrassing, but I bet it's not that bad." Dorcas quipped, playfully poking your cheek.

"Today, in potions class, he asked me to hand him a vial of something," you began, cringing at your actions.

"And?" Marlene asked.

"I started coughing uncontrollably and pretended like I need to go to the infirmary. And when he offered to take me, I just....ran out of the room..." you admitted, covering your face with your hands.

"Ooh, yeah, that's bad." Dorcas said, earning herself a smack on the thigh from her girlfriend. "What? What did i say?"

"Ignore Dorcas. I'm sure if you just go and explain-!" You immediately cut Marlene off, a slight look of horror forming on your face.

"You want ME to tell THE Regulus Black that I had a dream about kissing him? Oh, yeah. 'Hey Reggie. Sorry I've been so awkward around you lately. I just had a dream about sucking face and swapping spit with you.'" you said sarcastically. "Do you know how embarrassing that would be?"

"If you would let me finish, bub," Marlene said, glancing over at a giggling dorcas then back at you.

"Obviously, you're not gonna tell him you dreamt about kissing him. Just tell him....you've been having....thoughts about him." "That's even worse!" you exclaimed, sitting up out of her lap.

"Then what do you suggest-" Just then, a wicked little smirk found its way onto Marlene's lips. Youou knew that look and you did not like it.

The blonde leaned over and whispered something into her girlfriend's ear, the two of them exchanging the same mischievous expression.

"Whatever you two are planning, leave me out of it." "Honey, you're the main character of what we're planning." Dorcas giggled, making you curl up into your blanket mound once again.

It had been three days since your "talk" with Dorcas and Marlene. And things weren't getting even the slightest bit better. You were avoiding the poor boy like the plague. Walking in the opposite direction when you saw him in the halls, making up excuses to leave early when you had to work together, even hiding behind a couch in the common room when he'd walk in. Yet again, the girls tried to urge you to take some action, but you obviously refused. So, they had no choice but to take matters into their own hands.

It was a quiet afternoon and you were chilling with the others in the Slytherin common room. Barty and Evan were lounging on the couch talking about god knows what, Regulus looking up from his book to shoot them a judgmental side eye. Dorcas and Marlene were talking by the window and you sat with Pandora and Lily, complaining about whatever classes you had next.

Your conversation was interrupted by Marlene and Dorcas walking over and taking Lily's and Pandora's hands into their own.

"Sorry to interrupt, but it's time for us to go. We have things to do." Marlene said, pulling lily along.

"What things?" Pandora asked, earning herself a sharp look from Dorcas.

"You know: the thing and that other thing." she said, sounding completely confident. It took a few seconds for Pandora and Lily to get the picture.

"Ah, the thing! Yeah, we gotta go do that! Uh, Barty, Evan. could you two come help us?" Lily asked, opening the door. The two boys were obviously in on whatever this was, giggling like little children as they followed the girls out.

"Uh, Regulus and I can help-!" "Nope, no need! I mean, six people should be able to deal with it! Byeeeee!" Marlene yelled, slamming the door shut.

You were completely dumbfounded as you stared at the door, jumping out of your skin as you heard the dark haired slytherin speak behind you.

"I knew that lot of idiots was up to something." he sighed, sinking back into the couch. You bit back a laugh, trying to ignore your clammy palms and the ever growing knot in your stomach as you sat next to him, a few feet between you two.

"Yeah, they're....always up to something...." you muttered, your heart hammering so loudly in your ears, you didn't even realize Regulus had been telling you something till he nudged your arm.

"Hm?" you muttered, widening your eyes a little to signal you were listening this time.

"What is going on with you? You've been acting strangely lately-" No, you did not want to have this conversation. You needed to get out of here. Now.

"You know, they might need some help," you said, moving to get up. As you did, Regulus caught your wrist, a frown on his lips.

"Yoi're not going anywhere until you explain yourself. I know you've been avoiding me on purpose." Ah, shit.

You reluctantly sat back down, fidgeting with your fingers as you avoided eye contact. "Promise you won't think i'm weird?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow, finally nodding his head and muttering a quick "Promise."

"Recently i had a dream-"

"So you've been avoiding me....because of a dream you had?" Regulus cut you off and you could already see his ears turning red.

"W-wait, it's not like that!" you exclaimed, covering your face with your hands and groaning.

Regulus blinked as he watched you crumble in embarrassment, a slight smile forming on his lips. "Well....then what was the dream about?"

You took a breath, looking away from him, your hands now gripping the cushions of the couch. "It was about...us. We were....we were kissing, okay?"

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, Regulus obviously taken aback. "Kissing?"

"Yeah. You...you leaned in and kissed me and...it felt so real. I almost wished it was." you admitted, finally turning your head to look him in the eyes. "I like you, regulus black. And I want to kiss you...for real."

Regulus felt like his heart would burst, his eyes shaking a little as he coughed awkwardly, looking at his lap, then back at you. "You really want to kiss me?"

"Right now....more than anything." Before you could even get another breath out, Regulus was in your space, hand cupping your cheek. the cold touch of his silver rings against your cheek made you shiver a little. Your breath hitched, your eyes gazing into his pretty gray ones.

"Glad to hear it. because I," he leaned in a bit closer, his lips hovering over yours. "Want to kiss you too."

The kiss was short and sweet, lasting a few seconds before Regulus pulled away, your eyes locking. You felt a warmth flood your heart, the way he looked at you making your lips curve up into a smile. You wordlessly leaned back in, your fingers knotting into his curly forest of hair. This time, the kiss was slow and slightly passionate, jolts of joy and pleasure running through your body.

When the two of you separated again, you were both smiling like idiots, a hue of pink coloring Regulus's cheeks. "Looks like their plan worked after all." you murmured, causing Regulus to raise an eyebrow.

"What plan?" he mused as a bit of laughter left your lips.

"Don't worry about it." you hummed, closing the gap between you two once more. You'd definitely have to thank Dorcas and Marlene later. 💋

The moment he stepped into the manor, he regretted it. With Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr at his side, they seemed to stick out like sore thumbs but unfortunately the boys had no other plans.

He had no idea why Sirius had begged him to come tonight, but something about his brother’s persistence—and the heaviness of his loneliness after Sirius had left Grimmauld Place for good—made him relent. Regulus hated his brother for leaving, but regardless he was here whether it was willingly or out of spite.

But as the lone brother remained in his corner of the room, the champagne flute still mostly filled, there was a chorus of excitement for a new guest. Regulus turned, poking his head down the hall towards the front door of the manor and stood straight.

You.

He looked down at his drink and touched it to his lips, the bubbling champagne disappearing in only a few gulps. Regulus was relieved to see you here actually. You were friends with Rosier and him, your smile contagious on the Quidditch pitch and in the classroom. It was an unlikely friendship for sure but one that was like a guiding light every day.

YN LN stood near the fireplace, her cheeks flushed from laughter as she spoke to Marlene McKinnon. She wasn’t dressed in anything particularly fancy—just a simple turtleneck and jeans that flared at your feet—but somehow, she managed to take his breath away. You always had, though he’d never admitted it. Not to you, not to anyone.

In the heat of the fireplace that toasted your cheeks, you felt something else burning from afar and you caught Regulus Black staring and quirked an eyebrow in question, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Embarrassed, the boy abruptly turned his face away only to be momentarily startled at his brothers appearance. He jumped and with a frustrated sigh, his head fell.

“Why are you sulking in the corner like some tragedy cinema and not enjoying an unsupervised night celebrating New Year’s Eve?” Sirius’s voice cut through, a big smile on his lips that swayed as much as his legs did.

“Go away, Sirius,” Regulus muttered, his tone sharper than he intended. “I’m fine.”

Sirius just grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, mate. It’s a party. Lighten up. And for Merlin’s sake, stop staring at YN like she’s the bloody moon if you’re not going to do anything about it.”

Regulus scowled, but his brother’s words only made his heart race faster. Unfortunately, Sirius — and rarely so— was right.

The clock neared closer to midnight and the music that coursed through the living room was becoming bearable as songs you had once played for him were played for the party. It was like the great universe beyond his comprehension was urging him to close in but the thought of it was making him sick to his stomach.

Evan had already got Dorcas to hold his hand, dancing in their own little corner. Barty was clearly and successfully inching his body closer to the Ravenclaw girl who sat on the couch beside him.

Regulus thought it would never end—the new year feeling further away as his own doubts and misconceptions chained him down by the ankles with every step. With everything happening right now, he knew the risk and wanted not to care.

You had been catching his eye all night but it had nervously darted away each time, your own disappointment clawing at your throat.

“It’s only a matter of time before you two start dating. I say by February.” Mary said, bobbing her head with Sirius as they danced together.

Your eyes cut towards them with a frown. “I don’t think we’ll be more than friends—not with the way he keeps avoiding me here.”

Marlene, chugging down her champagne, pointed at your chest.

“I will not leave Hogwarts knowing you are a coward, YN. You need put the big girl pants on.”

You were momentarily offended, even in her drunken state, and scoffed at being called a coward all because you wouldn’t approach Regulus first. You made it obvious for months now since returning to school that you fancied him.

Sirius, swinging Mary around, leaned his head into the conversation.

“He’s bloody scared of you. Never thought the confidence and charm would end with me, but I think you can manage!”

To give yourself a break, you ran to the ladies room just upstairs and enjoyed the small bit of silence. But as you came back out, ready to go back down to the party, a figure stood by the end of the stairs.

Slowly, your platforms descended the stairs and you cautiously watched as Regulus turned around with a smile on his face. It lifted your chest, heart racing at the sight of his grin. What had changed in the few minutes you were gone?

“I’d say I’m excited to see you, but you have been hiding all night.” you taunted, finally meeting the end and standing before him.

“You know I’m not the biggest fan of my brother, let alone these huge parties.” Regulus chuckled nervously, tilting his head.

Slowly nodded, your cheeks were aching from how much you had been smiling since you had seen him turn around to look up at you.

“I can’t argue that, Black.” you said, trying to hide your smile as you gently poked his shoulder. “So, what’s the New Year’s resolution this time around?”

He was slightly taken back by your question and you hoped you hadn’t come off too cheesy—but Regulus had heard it all from you good and bad since your first year now. Deep down though, Regulus had been plagued by this looming war and had no time to think of such a thing. But the answer was standing before him.

“Maybe ask you on a real date. It’s a goal I’ve put off for a while now.” Regulus shrugged. “And you?”

Your cheeks flushed, unable to register the smooth delivery of his words at first but the muscles in your cheeks pulled back again. You tried to tell yourself to cool it as your tight lip smile tried to give you away. Merlin, you thought you were going to explode with excitement, friends passing by the two of you wondering what was going to finally happen between Regulus and YN.

“Maybe say yes to a date. I’ve been waiting for the right one.” you said, containing your anxious laughter that came out softly.

It felt like a spotlight had fallen upon you and you took a sip of your champagne, looking over Regulus shoulders to see Marlene already staring at you with two big thumbs up in the living room. Abruptly, you diverted your eyes back to Regulus as he slowly inched closer.

“I think we can make our resolutions happen this year. Want to start at midnight?” he asked, grinning tugging at his lips even wider now.

Looking down at your watch, you almost didn’t realize it was minutes away if you were looking at it right.

“Fair deal. Shake on it?” you asked.

Regulus snickered, and you laughed too, the nervousness washing off the two of you as your silly remark eased the tension.

“YN, you are strange. But we’re not shaking on this…not when I’ve waited too long to do this.”

The countdown began, the loud voices of your friends discernible as the numbers went back from sixty. But James Potter, running like a lunatic, was trying to get everyone outside for the fireworks him and Remus had set up.

With your charmed glass refilled with champagne, you took a sip with one hand and Regulus grabbed your free one as you two braced the cold and dark winter night.

“Ten, nine—!”

One firework, like a purple rocket, fired up into the sky in a dozen spirals and popped, the crowd of students laughing as Remus and James yelled at each other. But your eyes were only on Regulus as the purple sparks danced across the reflection of his eyes, and all you could do was brace yourself for your first kiss with him. Your eyes on his lips and your heart was racing, pounding in the echo of that singular firework.

“Three, two, one!”

“Happy New Year!”

The air was drawn from your lungs as fireworks erupted meters ahead of you, drowning out the ringing in your ears and Regulus turned to you.

“Happy new year, YN.” Regulus said, a beaming smile on his lips as he cupped your face.

“Happy new year.” you said breathlessly, allowing his cold lips glazed in champagne to press against yours.

Under the myriad of fireworks that cast a dozen different colors over your bodies, Regulus and you had not a single inch of space between the two of you as your long awaited kiss unfolded. Not a moment in your life mattered but this one—not the past year nor the new one. Your hearts beat together and the warmth that blossomed was enough to keep you leaning in for more as his tongues daringly crossed paths. You weren’t sure who had wanted this more but when you needed air, letting your head go fuzzy as much as it would withstand, you pulled back with your arms still clung around his neck.

“When’s our real date then?” you asked, falling into a comfortable hold within his arms as the two of you watched the fireworks.

“Whenever you want. Wherever you want. As long as you’re with me this year.” Regulus said, his chin resting over your head.

“What do you think she sees in guys like that?” Bucky asks, his eyes once again trained on you.

Bob follows his line of sight and purses his lips. “Nothing. She doesn’t look interested at all.”

Bucky scoffs and takes a slow sip of his beer. “That guy looks interested.”

“Obviously,” Bob says. “Who wouldn’t be.”

Bucky shifts his eyes to Bob and Bob immediately holds up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying. I get it.”

The metal plates in Bucky’s arm shift and whir under the leather of his jacket and he spins the beer bottle between his fingers as he thinks. “I don’t stand a chance.”

“What was that?” Bob asks, leaning forward.

Bucky just shakes his head, sighing and slumping over his beer.

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Ask her what? Bucky says.

“What she sees in them? Bob shoots back. “That’s the only way to find out.”

“Yeah, well….” Bucky can’t finish his sentence because you start to head their way.

“Now’s your chance,” Bob whispers before he smiles at you.

“What are you guys up to over here?” you ask when you stop in front of Bucky.

“Nothin’,” Bucky smiles at the same time Bob starts to say, “Bucky was just wondering what you see in those guys.”

Bucky shoots Bob a death glare.

“What guys?” you ask, your eyes on Bucky.

“Like the one you were talking to by the dart game,” Bob clarifies.

“Not my type at all,” you answer.

“Told ya so,” Bob says with a light elbow in Bucky’s shoulder.

“Well not your type is headed our way,” Bucky grumbles as he straightens his shoulders.

You turn to catch the guy that was chatting you up at darts heading your way.

“He just can’t take a hint,” you say under your breath.

“Hey, there you are,” the guy says as he slides up next to you. “I thought you were getting another drink.”

“I’m going to,” you start, “but I wanted to see my…”

Before you can finish the sentence, Bob chimes in and says, “boyfriend.”

“Who? You?” the guy says, pointing to Bob.

Bob starts to shake his head no and then Bucky stands and slides his arm around your waist, tucking you against his side and saying, “no. Me.”

Bob chuckles from behind you but quickly stifles it when Bucky narrows his eyes.

“You didn’t say you had a boyfriend,” the guy frowns.

“Well. I do,” you say as you rest your head on Bucky’s chest.

“I wouldn’t have spent so much time chatting you up if I didn’t think I had a chance of getting some,” the guy scoffs.

Your mouth falls open and you feel Bucky tense next to you. Even Bob slides around front and stands at your other side.

“Now that wasn’t the right thing to say,” Bucky grits out, his tone hard.

You turn your face up to Bucky and smile. “Now do you see why I’m not interested.”

Bucky smiles back and let’s his hand slide over the curve of your hip. “Yeah doll, I think I get it.”

The guy from darts just stands there, looking between the three of you.

“That was your cue to leave,” Bucky growls. “Unless you need me to make you…”

The guy throws his hands up in surrender and backs away, quickly turning on his heel before disappearing near the bathrooms.

“He was going on and on about his big tricked out truck outside,” you say, emphasizing the words “ big and tricked out,” with sarcasm and a roll of your eyes. “Too bad he didn’t get a look at your bike.”

You grin at Bucky when you say it and see his eyes light up.

“I’ll take you for a ride anytime you want doll face.”

“I could get used to this boyfriend thing,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I think he’d like that.”

If your eyes weren’t already focused on Bucky’s lips you would have sworn he said the words. But his lips never moved, and it takes you a second to remember that Bob is still standing next to you.

You whip your head Bob’s way, and he smiles brightly and nods. Your head falls into Bucky’s chest, and you start to shake with laughter.

“What?” Bob asks with his eyebrows drawn in.

Bucky’s mouth lifts into a sideways grin. “Where’s Yelena?”

Bob’s eyes scan the room, and he finds her standing by the dart game with a knife poised between her fingers.

“About to play darts with her knife,” Bob says as if it’s nothing.

“Why don’t you go play with her,” Bucky says.

“I’ll never win,” Bob retorts.

You look over at Yelena and catch her eye, subtly conveying through the unspoken girl bond that you want her to get rid of Bob for you.

She naturally gets the idea and waves at Bob, motioning for him to come join her.

“See,” Bucky says, somewhat shocked but then looking down at you and giving you a knowing smile. “She wants you to play.”

Bob smiles and says goodbye as he rushes off to join her.

“I’d kick both their asses,” Bucky says.

“Of course you would Buck,” you reply and pat his chest.

“Thanks for saving me before,” you tell him, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his neck.

You give him a hug and then a soft kiss near the corner of his mouth. “I would never have gone home with that guy.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment, still savoring the feel of your lips on his skin.

“So then…what’s your type?” he asks.

“Hm. Well…,” you start. “I prefer darker features…dark hair.”

You run your fingers lightly through the hair at the back of his neck. “And I love facial hair.”

Your fingertips trace the line of his jaw, gently scratching through his scruff. “Especially when there’s these little patches of gray.”

He sucks in a small breath, his eyelashes fluttering and the tops of his cheeks turning a light pink.

“Beautiful eyes…”

You hold his stare. “Especially framed by long dark lashes I wish I had.” You follow that statement with a little laugh.

“Your eyelashes are perfect,” he whispers, and you smile.

“But the most important thing is that he has a good heart.”

You follow those words with the flat press of your palm to his chest, right over the rapid thumping of his heart.

He closes his hand around yours, squeezing lightly as he tugs you closer and dips his head.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“A good kisser would be a big plus.”

“I think I can handle that,” he says, his warm breath fanning your lips.

He releases your hand, sliding it down along your arm to your back where his fingers splay and he gently brings you closer. The first contact is just a brush of his lips over yours, the briefest sweep.

You’re already sure it’s going to be the best kiss of your life and when you hear the quietest moan escape his throat he leans in again, pressing his soft, strong mouth to yours and taking your top lip between his, sucking gently, before he turns his attention to your bottom one.

With a smile forming against the kiss, he tilts his head and slides his hand at your back higher, cupping the nape of your neck and taking you with a heat you couldn’t have predicted but makes you feel like you’re free falling backward into the clouds.

His other hand smooths over the curve of your waist and up to rest warmly on your cheek, his thumb caressing your soft skin while he kisses you senseless.

Everything is quiet before you hear cheers from the back of the bar and he slowly releases you, pressing his lips to yours softly again and again before he pulls back.

“Bucky Barnes,” you whisper as you bury your face in his neck. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Yelena and Bob continue to clap, and he takes your chin between his fingers, bringing your eyes back to his.

“Nah doll. Just hoping that kiss was good enough to snag me a date.”

“A date? After that kiss I’ll marry you.”

“Even better,” he winks before his lips meet yours again.

The transition into becoming a new Avenger was swift, one press conference with the simple words of introducing your - now - team as the New Avengers happened in only a mere few seconds. The process of moving into the tower, however, was much longer.

Valentina, having no regard for your life before being declared as a new Avenger, expected you to drop your life someplace else and move into the tower. You shouldn't have been surprised, having worked for her for a couple of years, you should've expected her to want things her way.

Now, you were stuck moving out of your perfectly fine (well, it was decent, but, hey! Let yourself be gaslit by the connivence of actually having your own apartment in this economy) apartment. More specifically, you were stuck moving out of your apartment with little to no help!

After having, oh so, nicely asked the rest of your new team for help with moving out, seeing as you lived rather far from where the tower was located, and didn't exactly have enough money to pay for a moving service (and Valentina had all but actually responded to your calls or emails for compensation for the move), they all refused to help since they all had their own moving to do.

You were heading to your car, annoyed and frustrated for the long drive, when you heard a certain someone from behind you, quiet and timid in the way he spoke. "Do- do you need some help..?"

You had turned around when you heard him - Bob - and gave him a little smile, with a little wave of the hand. "You don't have to, Bob, I'm sure you've got stuff to be doing too, the drive there and back is long, you don't need to be polite."

He shook his head, putting his hands up and dismissively waving them. "No, no. I-it's fine, I have-haven't actually got a lot of stuff. So... y'know..."

You'd given him a little smile at that, inviting him into your car with grateful thanks. You had spoken to Bob a handful of times, having met him in the Vault, you were as close to him as Ava, Yelena and Walker. However, you couldn't deny the fact that you probably weren't as close as him as anyone else, you were better off on your own and you didn't exactly go out of you way to speak to the team as much as you should have.

Despite that, though, Bob still offered to help you out. You were grateful for that, in a way that you were definitely unable to show to him because, without his help, it might've taken all day - and you were definitely not up for all of that.

The two of you drove in silence, though, you wouldn't say it was awkward, no. Neither of you felt the need to strike up conversation, it seemed easier to jus sit in silence, allowing only the radio to create noise within the car.

It seemed to have been a reoccurring situation with the two of you, whenever it was just the two of you, you would never actually fall into conversation. Instead, the two of you would sit there, until one needed to go someplace else, or until someone else came into the room. It wasn't like the two of you would sit doing nothing, he would read and you would be reading through the endless emails that you had sent Valentina - safe to say you weren't her favourite.

When you finally arrived to your old apartment, you looked around for anyone who might have appeared out of the normal - a habit you had developed after working with Valentina because you were always sure someone was after you when working for someone like her. When you were certain it was safe, and then kicked yourself for still checking, you motioned for Bob to follow you into the apartment building.

"Wait- don't... don't you need boxes?" He questioned, as he got out.

You shook your head, walking up to the door. "I've got a bunch from the last time I moved, should still be there and if they're not... I'm screwed I guess, and I don't get to move."

Bob seemed to have nodded his head a little at that, looking down at his feet shortly after he did, though you couldn't see exactly since you were turning away from him when he did so.

You were only on the third floor, so the two of you took the elevator to your floor. It was a swift walk, most of which you spent trying to rummage through your bag for your keys, muttering under your breath as you did.

"Right-io." You muttered quietly as you finally fished your keys out of your bag, unlocked the door and opened it. "I really appreciate this, Bob, thanks again for helping."

"No- no problem." He replied with a little shrug, following you inside of your apartment. "So... so what are you planning to take back to the tower?"

"Well, I guess, like, everything." You huffed subtly, rubbing your eyes. "I haven't moved out of somewhere for years, so... I honestly have no idea what should be thrown away or should be taken."

You paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Ah, okay, uhm, we'll take the small boxes and we'll use them for the smaller things that I have. Y'know, like, the stuff in the bathroom, books, ect: and we'll use the larger ones for the stuff in my room and kitchen, yeah?"

He nodded along with what you had said. "Yeah, ok-okay."

Thus started the, almost, maddening task of going through your own stuff. You made sure that Bob would get the task of going through the smaller rooms - like the bathroom - so that he could simply mindlessly put whatever was in there into the box. You had the task of sitting in your room, a binbag on one side so that you could get rid of anything that couldn't be donated, the box in front of you, and two old tote bags on your other side so that you could potentially give away anything you didn't need anymore.

You felt like you were spring cleaning, which in a way you were, and you hated cleaning on it's own, so you could definitely say that this whole ordeal was not your favourite thing.

You were sat around your old belongings, most of which you had impulsively decided to get rid of instead of keep because you were starting to get fed up halfway through, and while you could admit you were getting nostalgic over the past - you were also getting extremely bored of it all.

You rubbed your face in exhaustion, despite having done barely anything physical, you still felt like you were struggling to stay awake. You eyes were set back onto the items around, but before you could continue sorting through your things, you heard Bob from behind you.

"I, ah, finished up in the bathroom." He paused when he noticed that you were barely even halfway done with what you were doing. "Do- do you want me to help in here for a bit?"

You looked up at him from where you were sat on the floor, "Uh, sure, yeah, okay."

The man had settled down beside you, looking over what was in front of you, before deciding to put all the stuff you didn't want in the binbag instead of leaving it in the big pile that you had left in. You hummed quietly, a faint 'thanks' escaping your lips before you started on a particular large piece of clutter in front of you.

Neither of you strike up conversation, you had learn at the beginning on this friendship that the two of you would simply be able to sit someplace together and do something without actively trying to engage with one another.

It was nice. Familiar, even though the two of you had only known each other for a few months now, and when you had first it ended up into fighting (and yet not really fighting) the guy. The two of you managed to get a friendship like... whatever you had, in such a short amount of time that was simply comfortable.

You hadn't had someone like this in awhile, and neither did Bob.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You slid into the backseat of the Uber, your mind already back at the office as you thumbed through a string of unread emails on your phone. You had barely closed the door when the driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling with a slightly nervous smile.

“Hey, uh, quick thing,” he said, one hand still loosely gripping the steering wheel. “Mind if I pick up another passenger on the way? It’s just a quick detour, and, you know… gas prices.” He chuckled, a little sheepishly, like he half-expected you to say no.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the glowing screen as your mind flicked to the ticking clock at the top corner. You had exactly twenty-two minutes left on your break before you needed to be back at your desk, but the way the driver’s eyes flicked nervously to the dashboard, you figured he could probably use the extra cash.

“Um… sure, yeah, that’s fine,” you said, forcing a small, polite smile as you set your phone down, trying not to overthink it.

“Thanks, really appreciate it,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he merged back into traffic.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up outside a small, nondescript café, and the driver gave a quick, sharp honk of the horn. The door beside you opened, and a tall figure ducked in, the rush of cool, coffee-scented air following him into the backseat.

You glanced up, instinctively scooting a little closer to the opposite side, and found yourself staring at a familiar face. His eyes flicked to you, widening slightly in surprise before he quickly looked at the driver, one hand bracing against the edge of the door.

“Uh, this is… this is the right car, right?” he said, his voice a little lower, a little rougher than you’d expected, his brow furrowing as he leaned back out to check the license plate.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re good, man,” the driver assured him, throwing a quick, reassuring wave over his shoulder. “Just a little ride share, you know, nothing crazy.” He winced. “Sorry.”

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking back to you, his lips parting like he wanted to ask if you were okay with this arrangement, but then he caught the faint hint of polite, if slightly awkward, agreement in your expression and slid fully into the seat, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Sorry,” he said, a faint, slightly sheepish smile curving his lips as he settled back, his long legs folding into the limited legroom with practiced ease. “Didn’t mean to, uh, crash your ride.”

You managed a small, tight-lipped smile, your fingers twisting slightly in your lap as you glanced out the window, the awkward, too-close silence settling in almost immediately. You knew his face, of course — his profile had been all over billboards and streaming ads for the past few months, his latest project seemingly everywhere you looked. But the faint, polite nod you offered felt more appropriate than any starstruck gushing, your mind already flinching at the thought of making things even more uncomfortable.

He seemed to catch on to your attempts at maintaining some semblance of normalcy, a small, relieved exhale slipping from his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth as he glanced your way.

“Alright, so… I guess we should introduce ourselves, since we’re, you know… carpool buddies now,” he said, his tone light and faint, a chuckle slipping past his lips. He offered a hand, his palm warm and slightly calloused as your fingers brushed against his. “I’m Lewis.”

You gave your name in return, your voice a little softer, a little more hesitant than you’d intended, and his head tilted slightly, his eyes crinkling in a way that made the space between you feel just a fraction less stifling.

A few seconds ticked by, the soft hum of the engine and the low thrum of a forgotten pop song filtering through the speakers filling the otherwise oppressive silence. You glanced down at your phone, your thumb twitching against the side, a small, nervous habit you hadn’t quite managed to shake.

After another painfully quiet minute, you cleared your throat, your gaze flicking to the side as you forced yourself to break the silence. “Um… I’m not, like… trying to make this awkward or anything,” you said, the words tumbling out a little faster, a little more unevenly than you’d meant, your cheeks warming slightly as you caught the surprised flicker in his eyes. “I’m just… really bad at small talk. And… talking in general, actually. So, um, sorry if this is weird.”

For a split second, Lewis just stared at you, his brows lifting slightly in surprise, and then his lips curved into a small, genuinely amused grin, a soft, relieved chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“No, no, I get it,” he said, his tone a little warmer, a little more relaxed now, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee as he shifted in his seat. “Honestly, same. I mean, for an actor, I’m surprisingly terrible at talking to people outside of, you know… work.”

You felt a small, reluctant smile creep onto your lips, your nerves easing just a little as you leaned back against the cool leather seat, the awkwardness between you shifting into something a little softer, a little more tentative, like the first uncertain steps onto unfamiliar ground.

You tried to focus on your phone, scrolling through a half-dozen unread emails as the car eased back into traffic, the soft hum of the engine and the gentle sway of the ride providing a muted, almost comforting backdrop. But the awareness of the man sitting barely a foot away from you, his presence a warm, steady weight in the otherwise quiet backseat, made it hard to concentrate.

He shifted slightly beside you, his elbow brushing the seat between you as he leaned back, his gaze flicking out the window before settling back on you, his eyes catching the slight tension in your posture.

“So,” he said, his voice a little softer, a little more tentative than before, like he was testing the waters. “Heading home?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, your head snapping up to meet his curious, slightly tilted gaze. “Oh, uh… break,” you stammered, your fingers tightening instinctively around your phone. “Just trying to squeeze in a quick trip before the next round of migraines.”

Lewis chuckled, a warm, slightly rough sound that settled the nerves still prickling at the edges of your mind. “I know the feeling,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned a little closer, his tone taking on a conspiratorial edge. “Long hours, too many meetings, and the constant feeling that you’re forgetting something important.”

You let out a small, slightly breathless laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction as you met his gaze, the corners of your lips curving into a faint, slightly sheepish smile. “Pretty much,” you admitted, your fingers twitching nervously against your phone case. “Though, I’m guessing your ‘meetings’ are a little more glamorous than mine.”

He grinned, a faint, slightly embarrassed flush creeping up his neck as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “I mean, maybe,” he said, his tone a little self-deprecating, his eyes flicking to the side as if considering his words. “But honestly, half the time it’s just me sitting around in a trailer, trying not to spill coffee on my costume or forget any lines.”

You let out a small, genuine laugh, the sound catching in your throat as his eyes snapped back to yours, a faint, relieved smile spreading across his lips at your reaction. You could feel a small, unsteady warmth blooming in your chest, your heart stuttering slightly as you realized, with a faint jolt, that you were actually starting to relax a little.

You shifted in your seat, your fingers still fidgeting nervously against your phone case as you tried to keep the conversation going, the silence between you no longer quite as suffocating but still tinged with a faint, unspoken tension.

“So, uh… what’s your schedule like?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself, your cheeks warming slightly as you glanced down at your hands. “I imagine it’s a bit more… chaotic than mine.”

He let out a small, breathless chuckle, his head tilting back slightly as he considered your question. “Yeah, you could say that,” he said, his eyes flicking back to yours, a small, slightly wistful smile tugging at his lips. “A lot of early mornings and late nights, a lot of sitting around and waiting for the right light or the right take. But… I don’t know, it’s worth it, I think.”

You managed a small, understanding nod, your nerves easing a little more as you met his gaze, the soft, unspoken warmth in his eyes settling something in your chest that you hadn’t realized was still tense.

Before you could think of what to say next, the car slowed to a stop, the driver glancing back over his shoulder with a small, polite nod. “Alright, this is you,” he said, his eyes flicking to the building outside as he tapped a few buttons on the dashboard.

You blinked, a small, startled jolt running through you as you realized your stop had come up quicker than you’d expected. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly as you offered the man beside you a small, polite smile.

“Well, um… thanks for the company,” you said, your voice a little softer, a little more uncertain than you’d meant, your pulse quickening as you caught the faint, surprised flicker in Lewis' eyes. “It was… nice talking to you.”

You started to step out, one foot already on the curb when his hand reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, the warmth of his touch startling but not unwelcome.

“Wait,” he said, his tone a little breathless, a faint, uncertain smile curving his lips as his eyes met yours, a hint of something like relief flickering in their dark depths. “It was… really nice talking to you, too. I, uh… don’t get that a lot.”

You felt your cheeks warm, your heart stumbling over itself as you caught the faint, sincere warmth in his expression, the small, slightly self-conscious shift in his posture as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I mean… it’s just nice, you know?” he continued, his words a little more rushed now, like he was afraid you’d slip away before he could finish. “Talking to someone who isn’t, like… making a big deal about it. Just… normal.”

You hesitated, your heart still racing as his eyes flicked back to yours, his hand slipping back to his side as he straightened, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for rejection.

“So… maybe we could do this again sometime?” he said, his tone a little quieter, a little more uncertain now, his gaze dropping to the seat between you before flicking back to your face. “Just, you know… chat. Without all the…,” he gestured around him.

Your breath caught, your fingers tightening instinctively around the strap of your bag as his words sank in, the unexpected warmth in this... honestly, he was still a stranger to you-- his tone catching you off guard. But you didn’t feel unsafe, and despite the nervous flutter in your chest, you found yourself nodding, your lips parting in a small, slightly breathless smile as you met his eyes again.

“Yeah… yeah, I’d like that,” you said, your voice a little steadier now, the small, relieved exhale that slipped past his lips sending a warm, unsteady flutter through your chest.

You fumbled for your phone, your fingers still trembling slightly as you pulled up your contact screen, your heart still racing as you traded numbers, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he handed your phone back, a small, slightly relieved smile curving his lips.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a little rough, a little breathless as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes lingering on your face for a second longer before he nodded, a small, slightly awkward chuckle slipping past his lips. “I’ll… text you. Later.”

You managed a small, shaky nod, your heart still stumbling over itself as you slipped out of the car, the door clicking shut behind you as the engine hummed back to life, the faint, lingering warmth of his touch still tingling against your skin as you watched the car pull away, your phone still clutched tightly in your hand.

---

The days after the Uber ride felt like a strange dream. The brief, awkward encounter in the backseat of the car had turned into something unexpected, and every time your phone buzzed with a new message from him, you found yourself smiling just a little wider. It wasn’t anything monumental—just small exchanges, nothing like the intensity you’d imagined romance would be. But it was enough to make your heart flutter, enough to leave you wondering if there could be more to this thing than you’d first realized.

At first, it was just casual coffee meet-ups, or quick chats in between work schedules, keeping it simple and unhurried. Lewis was an actor, always on the move, juggling scripts and auditions and press events. You, on the other hand, were buried under a mountain of deadlines, client meetings, and late-night project revisions. But somehow, amidst the chaos, the little moments you spent with him felt like an oasis.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the conversation turned more personal, one of those moments when you both found yourselves sitting across from each other at a cozy café, sipping on overpriced lattes and feeling surprisingly at ease despite the awkwardness that clung to the air at times. You had just finished talking about your hectic day, something about a report gone wrong and a team meeting that could have been handled better, when he leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup.

“So… are you in a relationship?” he asked, the question slipping out so casually it almost sounded like an afterthought. His eyes were warm but curious, an eyebrow raised as he leaned forward just a little, as though waiting for an answer that would somehow tell him more about you than any previous conversation had.

You nearly snorted, the sound so abrupt that it startled both of you. “A relationship?” you repeated, your mind instantly scrambling for some semblance of dignity. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts but finding only embarrassment. “Uh… no. Never been on a date, much less had a partner.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, you both burst into laughter at the same time, the nervous kind, but real, genuine laughter all the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed like that—completely unrestrained, without worrying about how you sounded, or how you looked, or whether you were being awkward. And for the first time in ages, you didn’t mind the awkwardness; it felt… nice, comforting even.

His smile softened, though there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You’re serious? Never even been on a date?” His voice was laced with a disbelief that made your face flush even deeper. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d meet someone who hasn’t at least done the whole dinner-and-movie thing.”

“I know,” you said, shaking your head, trying to brush off the discomfort with a small, sheepish grin. “I guess I’ve just been… too focused on work, or… well, I don’t know. It’s just never really happened.”

He leaned back again, clearly processing this new piece of information. You could see his thoughts working behind those dark, thoughtful eyes of his, but there was no judgment, just an understanding that made you feel oddly safe.

“Well,” he said after a pause, his voice warm but teasing, “that just means you’re in for a whole new world of experiences.” There was a playfulness in his tone, but something else too—a sense of wanting to take things slow, to help you discover this new territory at your own pace.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat but found that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away from the conversation. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of that,” you admitted, feeling a touch self-conscious. “I mean… I don’t even know where to start. I’m kinda… out of my depth here.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing glint faded, replaced with something gentler, almost tender. “Hey, no pressure,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m not in a rush. I just want to get to know you, you know? No big expectations. If you ever want to… I don’t know, go for dinner or a walk or something, I’m here. Just taking it one step at a time.”

You met his gaze, a sense of warmth washing over you at his words, and a tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest. Maybe this didn’t have to be a big, overwhelming thing. Maybe it could just be... slow, easy, something that felt natural and not forced.

Over the next couple of weeks, those casual, easy hangouts continued. More coffee dates, more laughs, more quiet moments where you found yourself stealing glances at him when he wasn’t looking. You began to feel something deeper, a soft fluttering feeling that had no name yet, but it made your stomach twist every time he smiled at you, every time his fingers brushed against yours when handing you a napkin or passing you your drink.

One evening, after a particularly long workday, he invited you to dinner. It was quiet, a simple meal at a little restaurant with flickering candles and soft music playing in the background, just the two of you sitting across from each other. As you talked, your conversation drifting between your childhood memories and his experiences on set, something shifted. It wasn’t the same nervousness, the same awkwardness that had marked the beginning. This was different—more familiar, more comfortable.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned forward just a little, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve got the whole work-life balance thing figured out, huh?”

You chuckled, swirling your drink. “Hardly,” you said, the warmth in your chest spreading as you looked at him. “I’m just getting through the day-to-day.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair, his tone becoming a little more serious. “But, y’know, if you’re ever up for something less work-oriented… maybe a little less routine… I’d be down for that.”

It was the first time he said anything that made your heart race in that way. You could feel the soft warmth of the words wrapping around you, filling you with an uncertain but undeniable anticipation. You were still a little nervous, but for the first time, you felt like you might be ready.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. “I think… I think I’d like that.”

---

The night had drifted into that comfortable, easy rhythm, the kind where everything feels just right without any effort. The Italian bistro had a warm, inviting vibe—dim lights, the scent of fresh basil wafting in the air, and a soft hum of conversations around you. The perfect place for a relaxed evening that, as far as you could tell, wasn’t going to be anything like the first awkward moments you’d shared.

You’d been talking for what felt like hours, and yet the conversation never seemed to run dry. The moment you both sat down, you fell into a natural ease, exchanging jokes and stories. His smile was disarming, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, the sound of it seeming to flow effortlessly between you.

“So, tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” Lewis asked, leaning back in his chair with that teasing glint in his eye, as if challenging you to open up in a way that felt lighthearted rather than intimidating.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how you could answer that one without giving too much away. You glanced down at your plate, searching for something to say, then finally let out a breath and replied, “Alright, here’s one. I’m obsessed with really bad reality TV. The trashier, the better.”

He grinned. “Oh, I knew there was something about you. What’s your guilty pleasure?”

You laughed, a little embarrassed. “Honestly, anything with bad drama. The Bachelor, Real Housewives... you name it. I love watching people’s lives unravel in the most dramatic ways possible.”

His laugh was easy, and for a moment, you forgot about the nerves. “I get it. There’s something kind of comforting about watching people have their messes put out there, right? Meanwhile, my life is a pretty boring series of rehearsals and early mornings.”

“You’d be surprised,” you replied with a smirk. “That sounds pretty glamorous compared to my pile of spreadsheets and meetings.”

“You do have a point,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “But hey, we all need a break from the grind, right?”

The waiter arrived with the main courses, and the conversation shifted to more comfortable ground as you both discussed the food. It was light-hearted, easy, like you were just two people enjoying an evening out rather than focusing on anything too heavy.

But then, as the conversation lulled, you felt the shift. The air between you two felt a little thicker, more charged. And you realized it was because the topics you’d discussed were personal in their own way—sharing things that were a little quirky, a little unpolished. It was a side of each other that hadn’t come out in your earlier, more cautious conversations.

“So,” he said after a few moments, his voice quieter now, as if a bit hesitant, “What’s your go-to karaoke song?”

You blinked, not expecting the question. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward a little. “What song would you totally rock at karaoke?”

You laughed, feeling a little shy but also eager to indulge in something fun. “I mean, I don’t do karaoke... but if I did, I’d probably go with something like ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ You know, classic.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! That’s a great choice. I can already picture you owning that stage.”

You blushed, shifting in your seat. “Alright, now you have to tell me. What would you sing?”

He thought about it for a second, then grinned, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “I’m not sure I should admit this, but… ‘Living on a Prayer.’ I know, it’s a little cheesy, but it’s got energy, you know?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair, genuinely amused. “I’d pay to see that. You and a crowd, belting out Bon Jovi?”

“I think we’d have a pretty good time,” he said with a wink. “Maybe we should try it sometime.”

The banter continued, moving between small, silly things, moments where you each learned just a bit more about each other. A shared appreciation for quirky hobbies, your mutual love for spontaneous dance parties in the living room when nobody’s around, your terrible dancing skills—things that brought out smiles and laughter.

As the evening wore on, the rain outside began to pick up, the soft tapping against the window adding to the cozy, almost intimate atmosphere. When the dessert arrived—tiramisu, of course—he joked that you could fight over the last piece, but neither of you did. Instead, you both enjoyed it quietly, savoring the moment.

By the time the bill was paid, the tension had melted away entirely. You were standing by the door, ready to head out, but the soft glow of the streetlights against the wet pavement made it feel like the night was far from over.

He smiled at you, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “So… I guess that’s the end of our little dinner date? Um, can I walk you home?”

---

The rain whispered against the windows, a soft, steady backdrop to the charged silence in the narrow hallway. He stood just a step away, his jacket draped over one arm, his other hand flexing subtly at his side like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. His shirt was still a little damp from the misty walk over, a faint trace of fresh rain clinging to his hair, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him in the small, enclosed space.

“I should… probably head out,” he said, his voice low and rough around the edges, like the words had to scrape their way out of his throat. His eyes flicked to the door over your shoulder, then back to your face, his gaze lingering a second too long, his breath a little unsteady as it ghosted over your cheek.

You felt your pulse stutter, a warmth blooming in your chest that spread quickly to your face, the unfamiliar rush of it making your fingers twist nervously at the hem of your sleeve. His eyes dropped, catching the small, self-soothing motion, and his jaw flexed, a faint crease forming between his brows like he was debating something with himself.

He took a small, careful step closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the faint warmth of his breath brushing your cheek. His free hand twitched at his side, fingers flexing like he was fighting the urge to reach for you, his eyes flicking back to your lips with a raw, unguarded longing that sent your heart skittering in your chest.

He leaned in slowly, his head dipping, his nose brushing yours in a soft, testing touch. His breath caught, a small, unsteady sound slipping past his lips as you froze, your eyes wide and lips parted, your mind stumbling over itself, caught between the unfamiliar thrill of his nearness and the quiet, aching want in his eyes.

He hesitated there, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, the tension hanging so thick you swore you could feel the electricity crackling in the narrow space between you. His hand finally moved, lifting slowly to your waist, his fingers brushing lightly against your side, the warmth of his touch spreading like a slow, steady flame through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You let out a small, involuntary breath, a soft, barely audible sound that seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb pressing gently into your side as his other hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers slipping into your hair as he leaned in fully, his lips finally, firmly pressing against yours.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, his lips moving against yours with a kind of careful, unhurried intensity, like he was trying to show you something he didn’t have words for. His breath hitched as you responded, your fingers curling instinctively into the front of his damp shirt, the cool, rain-soaked fabric clinging to your palm as you leaned into him, a small, surprised whimper slipping from your throat when he deepened the kiss, his mouth parting slightly against yours.

His thumb brushed a slow, soothing circle against your waist, his breaths coming quicker now, his fingers tightening in your hair as his lips moved more firmly against yours, a quiet, relieved noise rumbling low in his chest as you responded without pulling back. You felt the soft, wet sounds of the kiss blend with the distant whisper of rain against the glass, the soft rustle of his jacket as it slipped slightly in his grasp, your fingers clinging a little tighter as he shifted closer, pressing his body just a fraction closer to yours.

When he finally broke away, his breaths came in short, uneven bursts, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his eyes still half-closed, the faintest hint of color blooming high on his cheeks as he caught his breath.

You felt your own face heat up, your fingers still clutching his shirt as you tried to process the rush of warmth still pulsing through your veins, your lips tingling in the lingering warmth of his kiss. You realized, a little belatedly, that you were still holding onto him, your knuckles pressing into the firm muscle of his chest, and a small, breathless laugh slipped from you, your head ducking slightly in a mix of shyness and disbelief at your own boldness.

He let out a soft, breathless chuckle in response, his fingers slipping slowly from your hair, his thumb brushing one last, lingering circle against your waist before his hand fell back to his side, his eyes finding yours again, darker and a little more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.

“I… um,” he stammered, his voice still a little rough, the faintest hint of a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he tried to catch his breath. “I should… probably say goodnight before I, uh… get too comfortable.”

You felt another burst of warmth flare in your chest at his flustered tone, your heart still racing as you managed a small, shaky nod, your lips tingling as you tried to form words around the strange, breathless warmth still clinging to your skin.

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” you whispered, your voice a little unsteady as you slowly let go of his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as they fell back to your side, the faint pressure of his lips still echoing against your own.

He took a slow, shaky step back, his eyes lingering on your face for a second longer, his lips parting like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite find the words. Then, with a small, breathless huff, he gave a short, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped back another pace, his eyes flicking to the door.

“See you next time?” he asked, his voice a little more certain, though his eyes still held that faint, uncertain warmth, like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment go.

You managed a small, breathless smile, your heart still stumbling over itself as you nodded, your fingers still tingling in the cool air where his warmth had been.