The op had gone south.

A simple retrieval mission had turned into an ambush, and after hours of evading pursuit, you and Nikolai barely managed to make it to the safe house. The place was old—dust clung to the air, and the floorboards creaked beneath your boots—but it was secure. At least for now.

“Could’ve been worse,” you muttered, peeling off your tactical vest and collapsing onto the worn-out couch. Nikolai stood near the door, checking the locks again, ever the paranoid strategist.

“Da,” he murmured, but there was something about the way his jaw clenched that told you he was still wound tight. His eyes, usually full of teasing warmth, were cold and distant.

“We’ll be out of here by morning,” you assured him, but his only response was a quiet grunt.

You didn’t think much of it...until you found the bedroom.

One bed.

“Shit…” you whispered under your breath, staring at the small, barely-passable excuse for a mattress.

“Problem?” Nikolai’s voice was closer than you expected, his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You spun around, eyes flicking to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“No,” you lied, too fast. “Just… tired.”

His brow quirked, a glint of amusement finally breaking through the tension. “Ah, I see.” He stepped into the room, taking in the situation. “Just one bed, lyubimyy?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I’ll take the floor.”

“Nyet.” His voice was firm, no room for argument. “You’ll freeze.”

“Then I’ll—”

“You’ll share the bed,” Nikolai interrupted softly, but there was no teasing this time. Just quiet sincerity. “I will not let you be uncomfortable when there’s room for two.”

Your throat went dry. “Nikolai…”

“Relax.” His voice dipped lower, his accent thickening, and damn if that didn’t make it harder to think. “I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”