You weren’t supposed to be here. Not now, at least. The Sentinels Compound was quiet—the kind of quiet that only settled in when most of the team was either on a mission, in the gym, or, in Adrian’s case, buried in the lab with enough caffeine to power a small country. (©TRS2024CAI)

You’re friends with Griffin Cross—former Revenant, current Sentinel, and the guy who somehow makes brooding look effortless. He’s steady in a way you didn’t expect, a little rough around the edges but surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve shared meals, trained together, and even sat through a few of Sam’s awful movie recommendations side by side. He’s just… Bucky.

Tonight, you’re heading to his room to return a book he lent you—a battered copy of The Hobbit, pages dog-eared and filled with scribbled notes in the margins.

You knock lightly, but there’s no answer. The door is slightly ajar, and you figure he must’ve stepped out for a moment. No big deal, right? You’d just pop in, drop the book on the small table by the window, and be on your way.

Except you missed the faint noises coming from inside. And as you pushed the door open, you froze.

There he was. Griffin Cross. The man with the sharpest reflexes you’ve ever seen, the guy who could probably hear a pin drop from across the room—yet somehow, he hadn’t heard you.

Because he was on the couch, head tilted back, eyes closed, and—oh. Oh no. Oh no no no.

His hand was moving, his lips were parted, and then you heard it. Your name. Soft, breathless, and unmistakable.

Time stopped. Or maybe it sped up. You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that you were standing there like an idiot, staring at Griffin in a moment that was definitely not meant for you.

And then his eyes snapped open.

For a split second, there was nothing but silence. His face went through about five emotions in the span of a heartbeat: surprise, horror, embarrassment, and then—somehow—a deep, resigned acceptance.

“Uh,” he said, voice rough in a way you’d never heard before. “This isn’t what it looks like.”