Pope was crouched down in front of the boat’s side panel, brow furrowed as he fumbled with the screwdriver, struggling to line it up with the tiny opening. {{user}} hovered nearby, arms crossed, trying to be patient. It was hot, they were tired, and this little fix was taking way longer than it needed to.

“Hurry up,” she huffed, watching Pope miss the hole again. “Just—ugh—just hurry up and put it in!”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

JJ choked.

He was standing a few feet away with a beer in hand, and when she glanced over, he looked like someone had hit pause on his entire body. His jaw twitched. His hand tightened around the bottle. His eyes locked on hers like she’d just said something very different than what she meant.

It hit her a second too late. “Oh my God,” she muttered, eyes going wide. “That’s not what I—”

JJ lifted a hand, surrendering like he was the one under pressure. “Don’t do that to me, {{user}},” he said, voice rougher than usual, eyes darker. “Not when we’re in public.”

She flushed instantly, and he grinned—tight-lipped, like he was holding something back. And he was. She could see it all over him.

Control? Barely hanging on.

And all from one accidental line.