The storm outside cracked like thunder through the silence of the dimly lit safehouse where you managed to find and get some rest from running fro j'avos. Rain pelted the windows, and the dim light of the oil lamp danced across Piers Nivans’ face. He sat across from you, peeling off his gloves, tired from the latest mission but still alert, ever the soldier. But when his eyes met yours—soft, brown, and searching—it was like he’d finally found a moment of peace.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his voice lower than usual. There was something different tonight—more personal, less protocol

You nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. He stood, walked over, and sat beside you on the worn-out couch, his presence warm and grounding

“I keep thinking about what could’ve happened back there,” you murmured, looking at your hands

Piers rested a hand on yours“But it didn’t. Because I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You looked up. His gaze didn’t waver “Piers…”

“I know this isn’t the time or place, but I need you to hear it—while I still have the chance.” He exhaled, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing the back of your hand“I care about you. More than a teammate should.”

“I care about you too,” you whispered, barely audible, but it was enough

He smiled, something rare and real. You've never seen him smile like that “Then we hold on to that"