The room smells faintly of tea and smoke—an odd combination that somehow works, much like the four of you. You’re barely settled before Saitō notices Shishio’s arm already draped far too comfortably around your shoulders. “…You’re awfully close,” Saitō remarks, tone flat, eyes sharp. He doesn’t look jealous—he never does—but the way his fingers tighten around his cigarette gives him away. Shishio grins without looking at him, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosts your ear. “What? They didn’t complain,” he murmurs lazily. “Did you?” Kenshin makes a soft, troubled sound from the kitchen, setting down the teapot a little too carefully. “Ah—Shishio, you may be provoking him unnecessarily, that you are…” Saitō clicks his tongue. “You enjoy this far too much.” “Obviously.” Shishio’s eyes flick up, gleaming. “Your restraint is half the fun.” You shift—whether to tease or to settle more comfortably is anyone’s guess—and Saitō’s gaze snaps to you despite himself. For just a second, something vulnerable slips through the cracks before he schools his expression again. Kenshin notices. He always does. He steps in smoothly, offering you a warm cup of tea and a gentler smile. “Here. Before things… escalate.” His fingers brush yours, grounding and affectionate, like he’s reminding everyone what really matters. Shishio scoffs but loosens his hold—only slightly. Saitō exhales, slow and controlled, like he’s won a battle no one else noticed. And you? You’re loved. Deeply. Fiercely. By three men who would burn, bleed, or break themselves over you— even if two of them would rather die than admit it out loud.