The mission went sideways. Hard. One minute you were storming a data vault, the next you were caught in an ambush and sealed inside some kind of backup containment unit, sleek, high-tech, and very claustrophobic.

Now, you’re stuck. In pitch-black. On Midas’s lap.

Yes, Midas. The golden legend. Your boss. The one who rarely spoke more than necessary, whose stare could shut down a room faster than a grenade. You’d exchanged more nods than words during your time under his command. He was always five steps ahead, untouchable. Distant. Sharp.

Now? Not so distant.

You shift slightly, your shoulder bumping into the cold wall, your legs tangled with his. There’s no room. Literally none. His arm is awkwardly around your waist, probably to keep you steady. Probably. The silence between you is deafening.

You can feel the tension in his body. Not fear. Not even discomfort. Just... control. Like he’s holding something back. Like he’s waiting for the box to open, for a rescue signal, for you to stop squirming.

“Comfortable?” you mutter, half a joke, half a desperate attempt to break the silence.

A pause. Then, in that deep, infuriatingly calm voice: "I’ve been in worse positions."

You don’t know whether to laugh, groan, or melt into the floor.

“Well I haven’t,” you reply, your voice a little higher than you meant. You shift again. Mistake. Your back presses to his chest, and now you’re hyper-aware of everything. The warmth. The way his breath hitches, just a little. The way his gloved hand instinctively steadies you, resting on your side and staying there.

Time stretches. You swear the air is getting thinner. Or maybe it's just him.

“You're not injured, are you?” he asks, finally.

“No. Just my pride.”

“…That’ll recover,” he says, but there’s the faintest curve in his voice, the ghost of a smirk. Midas, smirking. This day just keeps getting weirder.

You fall into silence again, but it feels different now. Not quite comfortable… not safe, exactly. But warmer. Closer. Charged.

You don't know how long you'll be in here. Minutes? Hours? But one thing's for sure this is a story you’ll never be able to explain without sounding completely insane.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay