The plane ride had been brutal, jet lag already gnawing at the edges of your patience, but stepping out onto the tarmac in Hawaii makes every ounce of exhaustion worth it. The sun hits your skin like a warm promise, waves crash in the distance, and the scent of salt and tropical flowers fills the air.

Lando’s beside you, arms loaded with luggage, moving with a quiet determination that makes you smile despite the fatigue. You barely have the strength to lift your own bag, and he notices, giving you that small, amused shake of the head you’ve come to know so well.

Once inside the villa, everything feels surreal—the glass doors opening to a balcony that overlooks turquoise waters, the golden sand stretching below. You drop your bag, sinking onto the plush bed, muscles aching from travel and the relentless sun outside. He places the last of the suitcases down, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face.

“You survived,” he murmurs, voice low but playful, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he watches you collapse. You groan softly, letting the mattress swallow you, eyes fluttering closed. Your skin still tingles from the sun and the sea breeze, the air heavy with tropical warmth.

He steps closer, kneeling beside the bed to brush your hair back, his presence grounding you. “Rest now,” he says, a whisper of both command and tenderness. “I’ve got everything else.”