WE HADN'T PLANNED TO fall asleep like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure Jason ever planned to fall asleep around anyone—especially not curled up on a couch that was way too small for his broad shoulders, blankets tangled around us, the fire in the hearth throwing shadows across the room. It had been a long week. Being praetor looked good on him—gold armor, Roman discipline, the weight of expectations—but it was exhausting too. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I saw it in the way his shoulders stayed tense even when he laughed, the way his eyes always scanned for danger even in moments of quiet. So when he showed up at my door, hair wind-tousled and eyelids heavy, mumbling something about just needing a minute, I didn’t ask questions. I just let him in. Small talk, kissing and two shared blankets later, he was half-asleep behind me, body relaxed in a way it never was during the day. I tried not to move. I really did. But my arm was dead asleep and my leg was at that weird angle that felt like it was seconds from cramping, so I shifted—just a little. Bad idea. The moment I pressed back into him, I realized how close we actually were. His arm was draped over my waist, his chest warm against my back, and now my hips were—oh gods—pressed right up against his. I froze. So did he. For a second, all I could hear was his breathing, soft and slow against the back of my neck. Then a tiny, almost imperceptible gasp slipped from him, like his body had registered the contact before his brain had. His grip on my waist tightened reflexively, and his face nuzzled deeper into the curve where my neck met my shoulder, like he was trying to hide. Or pretend this wasn’t happening. “Um,” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep, lips brushing my skin accidentally—or maybe not entirely accidentally. “You, uh... you good?” I wasn’t sure if he meant physically or emotionally, but neither answer was simple. I tried to shift again, awkwardly trying to create space, but he groaned—actually groaned—and muttered, “Stop squirming.” His voice was muffled against my skin, low and scratchy and a little too intimate for someone who definitely did not mean to sound that intimate. “Or I’m gonna—” he cut himself off, jaw tensing. “Just. Don’t move, okay?” His whole body was stiff behind me now, in every possible way, and I knew—knew—he was very awake. So was I. And neither of us knew what to do about it. The silence stretched between us, thick and a little too loud, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the thudding of my heart. I wasn’t breathing normally. I couldn’t. Not with the feel of his hand still splayed on my waist like he didn’t know where else to put it. Not with how his nose was still tucked against my neck, and I could feel—feel—his breath catch every few seconds like he was overthinking even that. I should’ve said something. Moved. Laughed it off. Anything. But instead, I just lay there, entirely still, hyper-aware of every inch of contact between us, waiting to see if he’d pretend to fall asleep again. He didn’t. “Okay,” he blurted, voice still low but absolutely panicked now. “Okay, that—that wasn’t on purpose.” I blinked. “You sure?” His hand jerked back from my waist like I’d burned him. He nearly rolled off the cot trying to put space between us, knocking into the edge of the wooden bunk behind him with a dull thud. “Yeah! I mean—no! I mean, I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to...” He trailed off, running a hand through his mess of blond hair, eyes wide and horrified like he’d just committed a war crime instead of accidentally spooning me too enthusiastically. I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, mostly to avoid the awkward stare we’d inevitably have to share. “It’s fine, Jason. I didn’t think you were, like... assaulting me.” His eyes went even wider. “Gods, no! I—of course not—I would never—” “I know!” I said quickly, trying not to laugh. “I was joking. Relax.” He stared at me, mouth open, a soft pink flush creeping up the back of his neck. Then, finally, he let out a long breath and dropped his head into his hands