You’re at the safe house, unpacking some supplies, when Adrian Chase walks in. His expression is sharp, watchful—but something’s off.
“Don’t let anyone touch that,” he mutters as you reach for a first-aid kit.
You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Adrian, it’s just supplies.”
“I said don’t touch it,” he snaps—but there’s a tension under his words, almost like… worry.
You pause, studying him. His hands twitch slightly at his sides, his jaw clenches. He looks… possessive. Not like controlling in a bad way, but like he needs you close, wants to make sure you’re safe—and he doesn’t even realize it.
“Adrian,” you say softly, approaching him. “Hey… what’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer. He just watches you, eyes darkening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. The room feels smaller somehow, the air heavier.
Later, as you check on gear, another teammate walks by and casually bumps your shoulder. Adrian’s head snaps up, and he steps between you and them. “Careful,” he says sharply, tone laced with warning.
You blink, taken aback. “Adrian… it’s fine. I’m fine.”
He looks at you like he can’t quite comprehend why your safety matters so much to him. “I… just don’t want anyone messing with you,” he mutters, almost under his breath.
You tilt your head, heart beating faster. “You’re being… possessive. I don’t think you even realize it.”
He freezes, then shakes his head. “Possessive? Me? No. I—” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “…I don’t know. I just… I don’t like anyone around you. Not like that.”
The words hang in the air. He doesn’t understand the depth of what he’s feeling, but you do.
You step closer, carefully. “Adrian… maybe it’s because you care. Maybe… more than you think.”
He swallows hard, eyes darting away. “I… care. Yeah. Maybe that’s it.”
You smile softly, letting the tension ease slightly. “It’s okay. I get it. And you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair, still watching you. “I just… don’t want to lose you. Or have anyone hurt you.”