The night feels different tonight.

Not loud. Not rushed. Just… still.

No team, no last-minute emergencies or assignments. No chaos or fighting.

The city outside the window glows in scattered lights, blurred by the cold glass and drifting snow. Somewhere far below, people are gathering, celebrating, waiting for something to change. Up here, it’s just the two of you — wrapped in warmth, tucked away from the noise.

You’re curled into James’s side on the couch, your legs tangled with his, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. One of his arms is around you without thought, fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against your sleeve like it’s muscle memory now.

You sigh softly, content.

“Hard to believe it’s already the end of the year,” you murmur. “Feels like it went by… fast. And slow. At the same time.”

James hums in agreement, his chin dipping slightly against the top of your head.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Feels like a lot happened. And somehow… not enough.”

You tilt your head to look up at him. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

He exhales a small breath — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“Guess I’m thinking too much,” he admits. “Comes with the territory.”

You shift closer without thinking, your hand sliding to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

“Well,” you say gently, “you don’t have to tonight.”

His arm tightens just a little around you at that.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The quiet isn’t awkward — it’s comfortable, earned. The kind that only comes when you’ve already said all the important things before.

James finally breaks it, voice low.

“You know… I never really did New Year’s,” he says. “Always felt like another reminder of things I didn’t fix. Things I didn’t get right.”

You lift your head slightly. “And now?”

He looks down at you, really looks — eyes softer than usual, guarded edges worn smooth just for you.

“And now it feels like a pause,” he says. “Like I get to sit here and just… be. With you.”

Your lips curve into a small smile. “I like that version better.”

“So do I,” he murmurs.

His thumb brushes gently against your arm, slow and grounding.

“I’m glad it’s quiet,” he adds after a moment. “No expectations. No pretending. Just us.”

You nod, settling back against him.

“Honestly?” you say. “This is exactly how I wanted tonight to be.”

James presses his forehead lightly against your temple, the gesture intimate and unhurried.

“Me too,” he replies. “Didn’t want anywhere else.”

Outside, the city keeps glowing. Time keeps moving. Something new waits just beyond the edge of the night.

But right now, nothing is pulling you away from this moment and James stays right where he is — holding you like he plans to carry this feeling into whatever comes next.