The mission is finally over. The mark is dealt with, the client safe, and we're all in one piece - mostly. Eliot's injuries weren't severe, but watching that building explode with him still inside will be burned into my memory forever.

Now I'm standing in Eliot's apartment, the scent of citrus from his moisturizer mixing with the lingering smell of gunpowder on his clothes. The place feels lived-in, comfortable in a way none of our safe houses ever do. He hands me a beer without saying anything, his movements still a little stiff from the day's excitement.

"You should go home, Alec," he says, but there's no heat in it. No real conviction.

I don't miss the way his fingers brush mine when I take the beer. Or how he hasn't moved more than three feet away from me since we walked in. The tension between us is thick, heavier than usual. Not just the sexual kind - though that's definitely there - but something deeper. Something that happened in that moment when I thought I might have lost him.

"I'm not going anywhere," I say, setting the beer down untouched on the counter. I step closer, close enough to touch him if I just reach out my hand. "Not tonight."

Eliot's eyes darken, and for a heartbeat, I think he might push me away. Then he sighs, a sound that feels like surrender, and I know he wants me here as much as I need to stay.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he says, but there's a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"For morale," I remind him, the inside joke that started all of this feeling suddenly too轻飘飘 for what's happening between us now.