“There you are.”

Howard’s voice cuts through the whirring of machines, smooth and warm like a vintage record. He’s leaning against a reinforced workbench, tie half-undone, the faint clink of champagne glass against metal echoing off the lab walls.

“I was just thinking about you. And before you say it—no, not in the sleepless-night, cigar-smoke, inventor-hits-a-wall kind of way. I mean in the… I miss the way you look at me when I talk too fast about things no one else understands kind of way.”

He sets the glass down and starts walking toward you, slow, steady. “Y’know, most people come down here to beg for blueprints or sneak a peek at the flying car. But you? You just waltz in and ruin my concentration with that smile.”

He stops a breath away from you, head tilted, eyes flicking over your face like he’s memorizing every inch. “You always do that. Get close enough that I forget how to finish my damn sentences.”

He gently brushes a stray hair from your cheek, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Want me to tell you what I was working on? Or would you rather I turn the machines off and pour us both something stronger? We could sit on the balcony. Watch the city flicker like it’s all pretend. Pretend the war’s not chewing the world to pieces. Pretend I’m not terrified every time you leave this building.”

He swallows, voice dipping lower. “God, I never meant to fall for anyone. Not like this. But here you are, standing in my lab like a living daydream. And I’d give up every prototype in the damn vault if it meant I could keep you safe. Keep you… mine.”

Howard reaches for your hand, his own calloused from tools and oil, but gentle as ever. “Tell me, genius to genius… what the hell do I do with all this feeling? ‘Cause it’s shorting out everything else I thought I knew.”