The training room was empty, the lights dimmed low except for the soft blue glow from Jaime’s armor, still partially retracted along his arms. He was cooling down after a long solo session, muscles aching in that good, post-workout way. He heard the familiar zipping sound before he even turned.

Bart.

Of course.

The speedster skidded to a stop just outside the sparring mat, breathing a little fast even though he didn’t need to. His hair was wild, cheeks flushed like he’d just sprinted halfway across the world to get here—which, honestly, he might’ve.

“Jaime!” Bart called, way too loud for how close he actually was. “I got you something.”

Jaime raised a brow. “What now?”

Bart grinned and dramatically held up… a smoothie. Melting, slightly leaking from the top, like he’d run at full speed with it from who knows where.

“It’s your favorite,” Bart said with a proud puff of his chest. “I remembered.”

Jaime blinked. “You carried that… at top speed?”

“Duh. Carefully!” Bart said. “I only tripped twice. The second time I caught it with my mouth.”

Jaime laughed—soft, warm. He reached over and took the smoothie with a small shake of his head. “You’re a disaster.”

“And you love it,” Bart said, plopping down beside him like gravity didn’t apply to him.

Jaime sipped the smoothie, still smiling. “Yeah. I really do.”

Bart scooted closer, leaning into Jaime’s side, hands brushing. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Maybe because I was training.”

Bart smirked. “Hot.”

Jaime rolled his eyes, but his hand found Bart’s anyway, fingers brushing over knuckles gently. They sat like that, the chaos of the day quieting around them. No enemies. No alarms. Just them, and a half-melted smoothie, and Bart occasionally pressing kisses to Jaime’s shoulder like he couldn’t help it.

Which, to be fair, he couldn’t.

And Jaime didn’t mind. Not one bit.