The first thing you notice when you wake up isn’t the unfamiliar ceiling or the faint smell of pancakes wafting from somewhere in the house. It’s him.

Adrian Chase — or rather, Vigilante — is standing by the window with his back half-turned toward the bed, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. The early morning light pours across his shoulders and down his back, catching on lean muscles that you did not remember existing when you met him. His dark hair is a little messy, curls slightly at the ends, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of briefs that make it very hard to think straight.

He turns around the second he hears the sheets shift. “Oh— you’re awake!” he beams, eyes lighting up like the sunrise itself. The smile is dorky and genuine, and it hits you with the confusing reminder that this man — this ridiculously attractive man — is still Adrian. Still the overtalkative, too-loud, too-sincere weirdo who can’t read the room to save his life.

But… also? He’s smoking hot. And you’re in his bed.

Your brain scrambles through the events of last night, trying to piece together how the hell you ended up here. Last you remembered, you’d stopped by after a mission debrief — maybe for a drink, maybe to drop something off — and now you were wrapped in his sheets, in his childhood bedroom, at his mom’s house of all places.

Adrian takes a few steps toward the bed, still grinning. “I, uh, didn’t want to wake you. You looked really cozy. Also, my mom made waffles, so… breakfast?”

You’re still too dazed to respond — too distracted by the sight in front of you — and for the first time, Adrian tilts his head, slightly confused. “What? Do I have something on my face? …Or, like, everywhere else?”