The hangar’s long since emptied, except for the low hum of the lights and the echo of your footsteps beside his. Your flight suit is slung halfway down your hips, boots scuffed from another rough landing, and you’re rubbing the soreness out of your wrist like you always do after a long sortie.

Tom watches you quietly from his locker, not saying anything yet. Just… watching. He always watches you. Not because he doesn’t trust you—but because you are, without question, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And because you don’t even realize how much space you take up in his mind.

He finally speaks, his voice soft in the quiet “You scare me, you know that?”

You look up, caught off guard—not by the words, but by how tenderly he says them. He steps closer, resting his hand against the edge of your locker like he needs something to hold onto.

“You scare me because I didn’t know it could feel like this. Because I’ve flown at Mach 2 without blinking, but one smile from you? And I forget how to breathe.”

Tom dips his head until his forehead touches yours, his fingers gently brushing your jaw, thumb ghosting the corner of your mouth. Every part of him leans into you—not possessive, not needy. Just sure.

“I spent years thinking love was a distraction. Something soft in a world that demanded steel. But then you showed up. Bold. Brilliant. Messy as hell and more real than anything I’ve ever known.”

Ice pulls back just far enough to look you in the eyes, that Ice-cool blue full of heat now—completely unguarded.

“You’re it for me. I don’t want the sky if you’re not in it. I don’t care about rank, or rules, or reputation. I care about this. Us. You.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingers there a moment, then murmurs the words like they cost him nothing—because for you, they don’t

“I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”