“{{user}}…”

Fury’s voice was low, gravelly, steady—but there was an edge of something raw beneath it, something he didn’t often let anyone hear. He crouched beside {{user}}, one gloved hand hovering before he finally rested it on their shoulder, firm but careful. Around them, the battlefield still smoked, fire flickering across the wreckage—but Fury’s focus narrowed to one person, battered and bleeding in front of him, and the thought of losing them made his chest tighten.

“You did good out there,” he said, voice taut, measured, yet carrying the weight of every mission gone wrong he’d seen. “Better than good. You saved people. You stood your ground. Hell, you saved lives. You didn’t give up.” His eyes flicked to the subtle rise and fall of their chest, the flutter of their eyelids, and he felt that rare, dangerous panic tighten inside him.

“No. Don’t you even think about checking out now,” he rasped, leaning closer, hand cupping their cheek with unexpected gentleness, thumb brushing their skin. “Look at me. Stay awake. You’re not done. We’re not done. That's an order."

His breath came rough, uneven, shallow. “You can rest later—after this, after it’s over. But not now. Not like this.” The words were low, fierce, desperate, the kind that came out only when he could no longer hold the storm inside him back.

“Please… just stay. Don’t make me lose you. Not you. Not now.”

His grip tightened, deliberate and unyielding, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let go.