You never liked Sullivan, and he never liked you. Yet here you were, stuck in the comms room after a blackout, the red emergency lights throwing shadows across his sharp features.

“You’re in my way,” he said, voice clipped, arms crossed.

“And you’re impossible to avoid,” you shot back, smirking despite your racing heart.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be clever?”

“Depends,” you shrugged. “Does it work on you?”

He stepped closer, deliberately, the heat from him impossible to ignore. “Careful,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re walking a fine line.”

“I’ve walked worse,” you shot back, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Besides, someone has to keep you in check.”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Oh, I don’t think you’re up to that.”

“Try me,” you teased, matching his intensity.

For a moment, silence fell, thick with tension. Every brush of his sleeve against yours, every lingering glance, made your pulse spike. He circled slightly, testing the space between you, his presence magnetic, teasing.

“You’re on edge,” he said, tone low, almost a growl.