The house was cloaked in the kind of stillness that only came after a long day in the Sheffield household. You crept down to the kitchen, feet bare against the cool tiles, tugging a cardigan tighter around yourself. The fridge door hung open, casting a pale glow as you debated the ethics of midnight cheesecake theft when his voice broke the silence.

"Ah, a fellow creature of the night. Should I be concerned that you're raiding the larder under cover of darkness, or shall I join you?"

You turned, startled but not entirely surprised. Niles leaned casually in the doorway, his usual uniform swapped for an unbuttoned shirt and well-worn trousers. He looked softer like this, less the unflappable butler and more... something else. There was a faint arch to his brow, the ghost of a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I couldn’t sleep," you said, taking the cheesecake with two forks.

“Neither could I,” he replied simply, stepping into the room. His movements were quieter than usual, deliberate, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. He set about making tea without needing to ask, the sound of the kettle filling breaking the silence.

It was unlike him to linger like this, the sharp edge of his humor muted. When the tea was ready, he slid a cup toward you and sat at the table, gesturing for you to do the same.

"Long day," he murmured, his voice lower than usual.

You nodded, the words sticking somewhere in your throat. There was something different in the air, an intimacy that felt fragile, as though any sudden movement might shatter it. His fingers curled loosely around his cup, and for once, he wasn’t filling the silence. He just watched you, his usual cleverness replaced by something quieter, almost hesitant.

“You’ve managed to survive nearly a year in this madhouse,” he said eventually, his tone softer than the words implied. “Impressive, really.”

The warmth of the tea seeped into your hands, grounding you, but it was his gaze that made your pulse quicken.