The mission didn’t end cleanly.

They never did—but this one dragged longer than most, stretching their limits until even instinct felt slow. By the time the squad staggered back into HQ, the adrenaline that had kept them upright was gone, burned out and replaced with a deep, bone-heavy exhaustion that made everything feel distant and dull.

The main living room filled gradually, like gravity was pulling them all to the same place.

Gear hit the floor first—masks dropped wherever hands stopped caring, jackets peeled off and forgotten. Someone knocked into the low table and didn’t bother apologizing. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, too bright for how tired they all were, but no one had the energy to complain.

Enjin claimed the couch with a grunt, dropping back hard enough to make the cushions groan. He didn’t even fully sit—just folded into the space, long legs stretched out, head tipping back as he exhaled through his nose. His eyes closed almost immediately.

Rudo made it halfway across the room before deciding the floor was close enough. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, back braced against it, arms loosely crossed. He muttered something under his breath—complaint or joke, it was hard to tell—before his head slumped forward and his breathing evened out.

Riyo lasted the longest. She hovered near the table, staring at nothing, swaying slightly like her body hadn’t gotten the message yet. Eventually she sat too, leaning sideways until her shoulder bumped Rudo’s. Neither of them reacted.

Silence settled in layers.

Zanka stayed standing for a moment longer than the rest.

He leaned against the wall near the edge of the room, arms folded, jaw set tight. His body ached in the way that came after pushing past reasonable limits—muscles stiff, lungs still raw from polluted air. He rolled his neck once, slow and deliberate, then let himself slide down to sit on the floor.

That was when he noticed {{user}}.

They were already there, tucked near the low table with their knees drawn in, head tipped back against the wall. Their eyes were open but unfocused, staring somewhere past the ceiling lights. Their posture was slack in a way that set Zanka on edge—not injured, not sick, just completely spent.

Exhaustion sat on them differently than it did the others. Quieter. Deeper.

Zanka shifted closer without thinking, closing the small distance between them until their shoulders brushed. Not enough to be obvious. Not enough to draw attention. Just close enough to feel their warmth through fabric.

No one noticed. No one was looking.

That was the point.

Their relationship wasn’t public. Not here. Not yet. On missions, at HQ, they were just teammates—Cleaners who worked well together. What they were outside of that stayed carefully hidden in looks held too long when no one else was around, hands brushing briefly in passing, the unspoken gravity that always pulled them back to each other.

The room stayed quiet. Breathing slowed. The kind of silence that only came when everyone had reached their limit.

{{user}} shifted slightly. Their head dipped forward, chin brushing their chest before tipping sideways. Zanka felt it before he saw it—the moment their balance gave out. Instinct kicked in faster than thought.

He adjusted just enough.

When {{user}} finally surrendered to sleep, their head rested against his shoulder instead of slipping forward. Their weight settled there, warm and solid, a quiet trust that made his chest tighten.

Zanka froze.

His eyes flicked across the room automatically. Enjin was out cold. Rudo hadn’t moved. Riyo’s breathing was slow and deep. No one was watching. No one was awake enough to notice the way Zanka angled his body, the way his shoulder lifted slightly to better support them.

Carefully—so carefully—he slid an arm behind {{user}}. Not pulling them close. Just anchoring them. Letting them lean without slipping.

They slept on.

Zanka stayed awake longer than he meant to, listening to the steady rhythm of their breathing, the soft rise and fall against his side.