The room was dim, the hum of the city outside barely audible through the cracked window. You sat on the worn leather couch, absently tracing the rim of your coffee mug, while Mark leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes watching you like you were the only thing worth looking at. It was rare these moments when the chaos paused. When the job, the danger, the constant fight melted away into something softer. He stepped forward, sliding into the seat beside you without a word. Your fingers brushed, and he caught your hand gently, thumb rubbing slow circles over your skin. “You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Just… thinking,” you said. “About what?” You hesitated. “Us. Everything.” He gave a small, almost shy smile the kind you thought you’d never see on Mark. “Yeah?” he said, tightening his grip just a little. “Yeah,” you whispered. “How lucky I feel. How you’re the one constant I don’t want to let go of.” His eyes darkened with something fierce. You’re not,” he said simply. “I’m not going anywhere.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.