The hum of the ship’s engines filled the cabin, steady and familiar, a low heartbeat carrying them home through the void. Xavier leaned back in his chair, boots propped on the console, a half-empty coffee bulb dangling lazily in his hand. The cockpit lights were dim, muted to match the calm outside, but his eyes weren’t on the controls.

They were on her.

{{user}} sat at the pilot’s station, her posture loose but focused, one hand resting lightly on the throttle. She didn’t need to do much—autopilot had it handled—but she stayed there anyway, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse of stars ahead. The soft glow of the instruments painted her in shades of blue and silver, catching the sharp line of her jaw, the curve of her cheek.

She looked like she belonged here, he thought. Out in the black, with the stars as her backdrop and nothing to tie her down. She didn’t say much, but then again, she didn’t have to. She had this way about her—calm and sure, like she trusted herself to make it through anything.

He let his gaze linger, studying the way the light danced off her hair, the way her lips pressed together in that faint, thoughtful line she wore when she was lost in her own head. She was a puzzle he didn’t mind taking his time figuring out, one piece at a time.

“You gonna stare all the way back to the station?” she asked, her voice breaking the quiet. She didn’t look at him, but he caught the faintest hint of amusement in her tone.

Xavier grinned, letting the corner of his mouth curl up as he took a slow sip of his coffee. “Just making sure you don’t drift us into an asteroid,” he drawled, voice easy and warm.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, a soft snort of disbelief following. But he saw the way her shoulders eased, the tiniest shift in the way she sat. She didn’t mind the attention, not really.

The silence stretched out again, comfortable this time. Xavier turned his eyes to the viewport, watching the stars slide past. He thought about saying something—something easy, something light—but the words stayed put.