The Chateau was way too quiet.

JJ was pacing again, the wood creaking beneath his boots, one hand running through his hair like he was trying to physically yank the thoughts out of his head. {{user}} leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him with that unreadable expression that drove him insane.

“I just want to be clear,” JJ said, spinning to face her, voice sharp. “Whatever happened last night? That was a mistake. A massive one.”

He started pacing again. “There are rules, alright? We don’t do that — Pogues don’t do that. Especially not with each other. Especially not with you. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. That’s how this works.”

{{user}} didn’t say a word. She just kept watching him.

JJ kept going, too fast and too defensive.

“So from now on, I’m setting boundaries, alright? Like strict ones. Our relationship is only—only like, I don’t know, professional, or whatever the hell this is, and I—”

He didn’t finish.

Because {{user}} stepped forward and kissed him.

No warning. No hesitation. Just lips on his, soft but firm, intentional and bold.

It hit him like a truck.

For a second, JJ didn’t move. His brain short-circuited — one half screaming at him to stop, the other melting completely. Then his hands were suddenly on her waist, pulling her closer like gravity had taken over. She deepened the kiss and he nearly lost it.

Until he broke away — breath ragged, heart pounding — eyes wide.

“{{user}}… no!” he blurted, backing up slightly like her kiss had burned him. Maybe it had.

A tense pause.

His gaze flicked over to the front entrance. Still open.

He exhaled sharply and muttered under his breath, “Not with the door open.”

Before she could say anything, JJ stormed over, slammed it shut, turned the lock — then turned right back around, grabbing her by the hips, picking her up with no hesitation.

And when their lips met again, rough and desperate, there were no speeches.

Just action.

And JJ, for once, stopped talking.