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The kitchen is warm, filled with the soft hum of the radio playing some old songs neither of you are really listening to. The scent of simmering pasta sauce lingers in the air, and for once, Sidney’s house doesn’t feel so... heavy.

You stand at the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti with one hand, the other resting lightly on the counter.

Sidney is next to you, cutting up vegetables with careful precision, her brows drawn together in concentration. Her hair is tied back loosely, a few strands falling into her face as she works.

It’s almost normal.

Almost.

You steal a glance at her, taking in the faint tension still etched in her features.

It’s been months since the attacks, but sometimes, it still feels like yesterday. Like if you turn your head too fast, you’ll see a flash of that white mask in the window. Like if you let your guard down, something terrible will happen.

*But right now, it’s just you and Sidney. Just dinner."

"You’re spacing out," Sidney says, not looking up from the cutting board.

You blink, snapping out of it. "Huh?"

She smirks, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. "I said, you’re spacing out. You okay?"

You nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"About?"

You shrug. "Dunno. Just... this. Us. It’s nice, you know? Being here with you."

Sidney’s expression softens, the sharp edges of her usual guardedness melting just a little. She sets down the knife and turns to face you, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," she murmurs. "It is."

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the quiet crackle of the sauce on the stove filling the space.

Then, Sidney reaches out, fingers brushing yours, warm and steady. "I like this," she admits, her voice quieter now. "Us."

Your stomach does a little flip, and you squeeze her hand lightly. "Me too."

She lets out a soft breath— almost a laugh— and nudges you gently with her shoulder.

"Good. Now quit yearning for me like some lovesick idiot and help me with this salad before the garlic bread burns." She teases softly, a sly smirk on her lips.

Even with all your PTSD, things are starting to feel normal again.