the chateau is alive in the way it always is at night — music bleeding through the walls, laughter spilling from the porch, footsteps thudding across old floorboards that have seen too many parties to remember. john b’s voice carries from the living room, pope arguing back, sarah’s laugh cutting through it all like punctuation.

but your room feels untouched by the chaos. dim. warm. private in a way that makes the air feel thicker.

jj’s leaning in the doorway at first, like he’s pretending he just wandered in by accident. hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders loose, eyes locked on you like he’s been there longer than he wants to admit. the light catches his hair just right — all gold and undone — and that familiar look settles on his face. curious. dangerous. entertained.

“you always disappear in here,” he says, voice easy, but his gaze gives him away. “like you’re hidin’ somethin’.”

you glance up from where you’re perched on the edge of the bed, not answering right away. let the moment stretch. “maybe i just like quiet,” you shrug. “or maybe i like who follows me.”

that earns you a slow grin. jj steps inside, nudging the door shut with his foot, like he doesn’t need to rush anything. the music outside dulls, replaced by the hum of the fan and the sound of him getting closer. he stops just short of you — close enough to feel, not close enough to touch.

“dangerous game,” he murmurs. “sayin’ stuff like that.”

you tilt your head, studying him. “you’re the one still standing here.”

his laugh is soft, breathy. like he’s trying not to give too much away. “yeah,” he says. “guess i’ve never been good at self-control.”

he reaches out then — not grabbing, not rushing — just enough to brush his knuckles against your wrist, like he’s testing the reaction. the contact sends something sharp and warm through your chest. jj notices. he always does.

his eyes flick to your lips. back to your eyes. lingers. “you ever notice,” he says quietly, “how some people just… make things feel different?”

you lean back slightly, bracing your hands behind you on the bed, closing the space without actually closing it. “different how?”

he bends closer, voice dropping. “like everything else goes kinda fuzzy. like you’re already ten seconds ahead of yourself.”

the air between you feels electric now — charged, waiting. jj straightens just enough to smirk, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“pretty sure,” he adds, slow and deliberate, “whatever this is between us? it’d be real hard to ignore.”

you smile, soft but knowing. “good thing i’m not trying to.”

jj huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he’s already in trouble. “yeah,” he says. “that’s what i was afraid of.”

the music outside swells again, someone calling his name — but he doesn’t move. doesn’t look away.

not yet.