The safehouse was quieter than usual tonight.Rain tapped steadily against the window, the soft rhythm filling the space between you and Gaz as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up and arms crossed.
“You’re staring,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I’m not.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
You tried to focus on the mug in your hands, but the warmth of it did nothing to distract from the way his eyes stayed on you—dark, amused, a little too observant. Gaz pushed off the counter and stepped closer.
“Long day,” he murmured.
“Understatement.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low in his chest. When he stopped in front of you, the air seemed to tighten. Close enough now that you could smell rain on his jacket and something faintly like soap and metal.
“Funny thing,” he said, voice dropping, “after missions like that… people usually relax.”
“And what exactly are you suggesting, Sergeant?”
His grin widened. “Just noticing you’re still wound up.”
Before you could reply, he reached out, fingers brushing yours where they held the mug. The contact was light, but it sent a quiet spark up your arm.
“You always this tense around me,” he asked softly, “or am I getting special treatment?”
You looked up at him then, and whatever sarcastic answer you had planned vanished the moment your eyes met.
For a second neither of you moved
.Then he tilted his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper.“Careful,” he said. “You keep looking at me like that…”
His hand slipped around yours, gently taking the mug away and setting it aside on the table.
“…and I might start thinking you want me closer.”
You didn’t step back.
Gaz noticed. Naturally he did.
The teasing in his expression softened into something warmer, more intent, as he leaned in just enough that his forehead almost brushed yours.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Thought so.”
Outside, thunder rolled quietly across the sky.
Inside, the distance between you disappeared.-
