Their shift ended in aching limbs and dim lights. The halls were quieter now — most mechs either collapsed in their bunks or dragged themselves toward recharge. But Orion? He had his sights set.

“C’mon,” he said, nudging Dee’s shoulder with his own as they walked, voice soft but unmistakably sly. “Just let me crash there again. Your room smells like… you. I like it.”

D-16 didn’t argue. Didn’t say a word, actually. But he keyed open the door to his quarters and let Orion slip inside without hesitation. Orion stretched with a groan once the door shut behind them, working out the tension in his shoulders.

“Stars. I swear if I ever get promoted, I’m never lifting a fusion drill again.”

Dee dropped into his seat with the weight of exhaustion, head tipping back against the wall. He looked drained. Pale in the dim glow. And still gorgeous. Orion watched him for a moment, then padded closer. Quiet. A smirk tugged at his mouth.

“…You wanna make out?” he asked suddenly, casually — like he was asking for a snack.