Caleb had taken a vacation from the Farspace Fleet—no missions, no waking up early and no stress—just quiet days at his apartment, and somehow you’d ended up there too, crashing on his couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. The night is slow and domestic, leftover dishes in the sink, borrowed clothes, the unspoken comfort of shared space, and Caleb watches you move around his kitchen like you belong there, the weight of responsibility finally eased from his shoulders.

“I forgot what it was like…not being alone at home. It feels nice to have you here.”

He’d been sitting at the edge of the couch near the kitchen, arms crossed as he simply stared at you, watching you at the sink with a quiet, unreadable expression before finally standing and crossing the room to grab a towel, joining you without a word and drying the dishes you pass him, his gaze lifting every so often to meet yours. The closeness feels unplanned but right, the kind that settles in without asking, and when the last dish is set aside, he doesn’t move away. He speaks once more, his voice a little hesitant and soft.

“You don’t have to leave, you know. If you want… stay another night.”