It starts with something innocent. Drinks after a mission. Just the two of you. He said it was to “unwind,” but the way his eyes kept drifting toward you instead of his glass… there was nothing casual about it. At first, he was all light laughs and tired grins. Hair more tousled than usual, mask still up, but already slipping in his body language. He’s never seen him so relaxed and.. Open. But by the third cup, something shifts, he starts to lean closer—his shoulder bumping yours like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, his laugh gets looser, fingers start trailing across the table until they brush yours without moving away.

“Y’know,” He mumbles, cheeks just the slightest bit flushed, “I really like you.” He chuckles to himself before lifting his hand up to rest against his face, his fingers slipping underneath his headband to reveal a bit of his other scarred eye so he could see you fully. And god did he look at you like he’s been dying to do this for the longest time. “You have no idea… how hard it is to act normal around you.” He says it like it’s a secret, as if it’s slipping out against his will. Then, his hand finds your arm, your shoulder, your waist—any excuse to stay touching you. He keeps moving closer, his voice getting lower as he spoke.

“You always smell good.. Did I ever tell you that? Mm… Should’ve.” He hummed, a lazy half smile etching his lips as his eyes looked into yours, but it held a sense of longing and adoration. “You’re so warm.. God, I always wondered…” He stops himself with a short, muffled laugh. Then—bold, unthinking—he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, quick and soft before another, closer to your jaw, then one just below your ear. He doesn’t stop despite thinking he might regret this in the morning.. His hand stays on your leg, his other trailing from your back to the cushion of the booth beside you, almost like he was caging you in. His body leaned fully into yours like he needs the contact to stay upright, pressing kisses on your neck and up to your temple before pulling back just enough to look you dead in the eye. His voice is quiet and raw.

“You’ve been driving me crazy.” The bar’s lighting was dum and the air thick. His heartbeat’s fast against your side as he looked at you like you hung the moon and he’s two seconds from kissing you full against your lips with no regrets. “I’m not good at this. Feelings.. Talking.. All that.. But I know I like you. More than I should.” He kisses you again—drunker, slower, this time dangerously close to your lips before resting his forehead against you. “Mm.. Don’t remember this tomorrow, {{user}}..”

But if he keeps kissing you like that, there’s no way anyone’s forgetting anything.