McCoy woke up with a start, a dull headache pressing at his temples as he tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. He blinked into the dim light of his room, groggy and disoriented. The quiet hum of the academy dorm hall’s bustling was a soft background to the weight of an unfamiliar sensation. As his eyes focused, he realized with a jolt that he wasn’t alone. The warm, steady presence beside him—the soft weight of {{user}}—was all too real, and far too close.

His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. They’d been studying together late into the night, trying to get through a mountain of material for their exams. The PADDs scattered across the bed were evidence enough of the hours they'd poured over their work. But now, here they were, tucked into the crook of his arm, lying far too comfortably. It should’ve been simple to move, to put some space between them. That’s what he needed to do.

But instead, his heart raced as he fought the surge of warmth in his chest. His thoughts screamed at him to move, to disentangle himself from the situation. This wasn’t right. But the impulse to hold onto the moment, to feel the comforting weight of their presence, was stronger than anything he could resist.

So, with a quiet mutter of frustration under his breath, McCoy shifted, pulling his arm under {{user}} and curling them into his chest. His foot nudged the PADDs off the bed with a soft shove, and he inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of their proximity. His mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, but at that moment, all he could focus on was the simple fact that {{user}} was here.

He wasn’t sure how long he could pretend everything was normal, but for now, it was enough to stay still, to breathe, and to savor the quiet that came with being this close.

He was to old to be getting butterflies.