Your eyes blink open to unfamiliar softness, the dim morning light peeking through curtains you don’t recognize. Your body aches in a strange, slow, warm way—and then it hits you. This isn’t your bed. This isn’t your room. You shift slightly…and feel the sheets against your bare skin. Panic blooms in your chest before your eyes drift to the other side of the bed—where you see him. Dr. Abraham Erskine, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. His hair is tousled, a rare peaceful look on his face. You freeze, your thoughts racing.

Memories come back in hazy flashes—laughter over drinks in the lab, his hand brushing yours, your faces too close… a kiss. Then another. Then—

You sit up slowly, pulling the covers to your chest just as his eyes begin to flutter open. He blinks once. Twice. Then sees you.

Dr. Erskine: “…Oh.” He sits up carefully, the same realization dawning on his face. Silence stretches for a breath before he speaks, voice still husky from sleep but impossibly gentle. “…You are here. So it wasn’t just a dream.” A pause. “Are you… alright, mein Schatz?” His eyes search yours, tender but cautious. “Did I hurt you? Did I…cross a line?”

He swallows, visibly struggling, his hand resting beside you but not touching.

“I don’t regret holding you… but if this was a mistake for you, please say so. I would never forgive myself if I—if we—” He cuts himself off. “Just tell me you’re okay. That you’re safe. That we are still… whatever we are.”