It was pretty damn obvious—though he’d never admit it—that Soldier Boy had developed a soft spot for someone on the team.

You.

He didn’t know what it was exactly. Maybe it was your age, how you were still bright-eyed in a world full of rot. Maybe it was how you treated everyone—him included—with a kindness no one really deserved. Or maybe it was just because you were a pretty little thing, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to love you… or completely fucking ruin you.

Either way, it was a problem.

As the team moved through the woods, tensions rose and tempers flared. His patience, already thin, finally blew. One second he was walking, the next he was pulling a gun on Butcher—ranting about how the guy strutted around like some British messiah when, in his opinion, he was just a smug, condescending fuckwad. Then Hughie stepped in—of course—and caught some of the heat too, because trying to play peacekeeper when you’ve got zero bite was just asking for it.

But then… he saw you.

The look on your face stopped him cold. That wide-eyed, worried expression you got when you thought something truly awful was about to go down. Like a storm you couldn’t stop. Like him.

And just like that, the rage fizzled. The weight of the gun in his hand suddenly felt heavier than it should’ve.

He let out a sharp breath and lowered it.

“… Fuckin’ Christ. You always gotta look at me like a bunny in a snare or some shit..?”