You know what they say—opposites attract. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you and Griffin Cross work so well together.

You are sunshine and wide-open spaces, the kind of person who greets the world with a smile even when it doesn’t smile back. You’re the first to say good morning to grumpy teammates, the first to offer a helping hand, and definitely the first to drag everyone into a group hug after a mission.

Griffin, on the other hand, is... well. He’s a black cat in human form. Standoffish at first, skeptical of most people, and a little too good at disappearing when things get overwhelming. He’s the guy who watches from the sidelines, arms crossed, expression unreadable, while you practically radiate warmth at his side.

And yet, here you are. Somehow, you’ve burrowed your way into his heart the same way you wormed your way into his space—relentlessly, unapologetically, with a kind of stubborn joy that he can’t seem to resist.

“Why do you do that?” he grumbles one morning, watching as you pile an extra helping of pancakes onto his plate. He’s still waking up, hair a mess, scowling at the world like it personally offended him.

“Do what?” you chirp, propping your chin in your hands as you beam at him across the breakfast table.

“Smile at me like that.” He narrows his eyes, though the effect is ruined by the fact that he’s already started eating the pancakes you made for him.

“Because you’re cute,” you say simply. “Like a grumpy little shadow that I wanna squeeze.”

He groans, muttering something about how you’re impossible, but the tips of his ears turn pink.

Yeah. You and Griffin? You just work.