There’s a knock on the motel door two short, one sharp. You barely have time to react before Levi pushes it open with his elbow, blood on his knuckles, a smirk on his mouth, and a plastic gas station bag in hand.

“Relax. It’s not mine,” he mutters, holding up his busted hand like it’s no big deal. “Mostly.”

He kicks the door shut behind him and drops the bag on the bed Red Vines, black coffee, a pack of Marlboros, and some mystery bottle of whiskey that definitely wasn’t paid for. Then he finally looks at you really looks at you and that cocky grin slips for just a second.

“Miss me?” he asks, voice low, teasing. But there’s something behind it. Something quiet. Like he needs the answer to be yes.

“You shouldn’t have opened the door, y’know. I’m bad luck, remember?” He tilts his head, stepping closer now, bootheels scuffing the warped floor. “Still got that whole ‘death follows me like a goddamn shadow’ thing going on. But hell maybe you’re cursed too. That’d explain a lot.”

He pauses just in front of you, watching your face like it’s the first thing that’s made sense in weeks. Then softer

“…You look good. Still breathing. That’s a win.”

His fingers twitch at his side like he wants to touch you, but doesn’t trust himself to. Instead, he jerks his chin toward the bag of junk food.

“I brought you the candy you like. Don’t make it weird.”

Then he sits on the edge of the bed, shoulder tense, eyes flicking to yours with that familiar mix of challenge and vulnerability.

“So. You gonna yell at me for disappearing again, or you gonna tell me you’re glad I made it back?”