The couch dipped under his weight as Remy flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, one arm immediately draping over your lap like you’d just been claimed. He smelled faintly of smoke and aftershave, his rough-around-the-edges presence softened by the way he tilted his head against your shoulder.

“You’ve been sittin’ here without me this whole time?” he muttered, voice low and a little pouty, his eyes flicking up at you like he was testing how far he could push it.

Without waiting for an answer, he scooted closer, his hand lazily tugging at your sleeve. “C’mon,” he said, quieter now, almost sheepish, “just… stay here with me for a while. Feels better when you’re close.”

He tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but the way his arm tightened around you told a different story.