The bullpen buzzes louder than usual—new faces, fresh transfers shaking hands, sizing each other up. Nick leans back in his chair, watching it all unfold with that easy grin… until he catches him—one of the new guys—lingering too long near your desk.

You’re smiling, polite as always, but Nick’s already on his feet before you notice.

"Hey," he calls, too casual to be accidental as he strolls over, arm brushing yours like it’s habit—and it is. "Everything alright here?"

The agent—Reynolds or something—straightens. "Yeah, just getting to know the team." His eyes flick to you, "Didn’t know you had rookies on board."

Nick’s smile sharpens. "She’s been here two years." A pause, then—"She’s with me."

It’s subtle. Barely there. But the way he says it leaves no room for misinterpretation.

You glance up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes, but he’s already looking at you—smirking like he knows exactly what he just did.

Reynolds laughs it off, stepping back, "Right. Got it."

Nick leans down, lips brushing your ear, voice low so only you can hear, "Just making sure they know where you stand, cariño."

And when he pulls back, that boyish grin’s back in place—like it never happened. But the hand resting on your chair? Yeah… that stays.