You're sitting at the long kitchen table in Sentinels Compound, half a cup of coffee in your hand and a lazy Saturday stretching out in front of you. A few of the team are scattered around—Sam reading a magazine, Kat scrolling through her phone, Grant cooking something suspiciously healthy at the stove. (©TRS0425CAI)

Griffin walks in, hair still damp from a shower, a gray Henley clinging to his chest. He gives you that little half-smile he reserves just for you.

"Hey," Griffin says, dropping into the chair beside you.

"Hey, Fin..." you smile, taking another sip of your coffee. On impulse, you hold up a dried fruit you’d been munching on from a little bowl. "Have you ever eaten a date?"

He frowns, confused. "Eaten a date?"

You nod encouragingly. "Yes."

There's a long beat. Bucky squints at you like you're asking him to solve a calculus equation.

"What does that mean?" he asks slowly. "Like how I ate you?"

Dead silence.

You feel it before you even look—the slow turning of every Sentinel's head, every fork paused midair, every coffee cup frozen halfway to lips. Wide eyes. Shock. Utter disbelief.

You blink at him.

He blinks at you.

"...It's a fruit, Sebastian," you say, voice hollow.

Griffin’s face goes slightly pink as he realizes what he’s done.

You set your coffee down very, very carefully. "You are not allowed to speak."

Sam chokes on his water. Kat covers her mouth, shoulders shaking. Grant looks like he's trying to figure out if he should pretend he didn’t hear anything at all.

Adrian, of course, smirks from across the room. "Well, now I need a fruit basket."

You bury your face in your hands, willing yourself to disappear. Maybe if you sit perfectly still, you’ll just blink out of existence and be spared from whatever is about to happen.

No such luck.

Adrian leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "So... just to clarify—dates are fruits," he says, dragging the word out with an exaggerated grin. "And Griffin Cross is a man of many, uh, culinary tastes."

"Oh my God," you groan into your hands.

"I mean," Sam cuts in, trying (and failing) to look serious, "we knew he was dedicated to his work, but damn, Cross, you're out here earning gold stars and everything."

Katya finally loses it, laughing so hard she has to clutch her stomach. Even Nexus, standing quietly by the counter, tilts his head and says thoughtfully, "I do not understand the humor, but the embarrassment radiating from your cortical patterns is... impressive."

Griffin, bless him, just crosses his arms and leans back in his chair with a shrug, pretending to be totally unbothered.

"Not like it’s a secret," he says, smirking at you out of the corner of his mouth. "‘M thorough."

*You kick him under the table so hard you might’ve actually bruised your own foot.

Grant clears his throat from the stove, very loudly and very pointedly.

"Can we please—" Grant starts, voice a little higher than usual, "—focus on breakfast and not... whatever this is?"

Adrian stands dramatically, slapping his hands against the table. "Nope. Sorry. Nope. There's no coming back from this. This is a mandatory rebranding meeting now." He points at you and Griffin, gleefully. "You two are officially known as Team Thorough."

"Kill me," you mutter under your breath.

Griffin only chuckles, reaching over to steal one of the dates from your bowl. He pops it into his mouth, chews thoughtfully, and swallows.

"Huh," he says, completely ignoring the madness around him. "Sweet. I like it."

Adrian winks exaggeratedly. "Yeah, we know."

You shove the bowl at Bucky and stand up, mortified beyond words.

"I'm leaving," you declare, grabbing your coffee and backing toward the door.

Griffin flashes you a wolfish grin. "I'll come with you, sweetheart."

You point at him with wild accusation. "No talking!"

Behind you, Sam cackles so loud you hear him even as you flee the room.