the vegas lights blurred past {{user}}'s window as misha’s black escalade glided smoothly down the strip. he’d picked her up from her small apartment, a familiar ritual after one of his grueling training camps ended. tonight, it was a quiet celebration, just the two of them at some dimly lit italian place he knew.

“you look tired,” she murmured, leaning her head against the plush leather of the seat. his profile was sharp in the city glow, a stark contrast to the gentle concern in his voice when he replied, his russian accent thick as always.

“training was hard. but now it is finished.” a small smile touched his lips as he glanced at her. “and i get to spend time with my favorite little sister.”

{{user}} chuckled softly. “i’m not that little anymore, misha.”

“still little to me,” he said, his hand briefly covering hers on the seat. the casual touch sent a familiar warmth through her. five years. five years since she’d moved to vegas and her older brother, jake’s, intense, often brooding best friend had become a constant in her life. a protector. a friend. something more complicated she didn’t quite want to examine.