The apartment was quiet, too quiet. You’d dimmed the lights, leaving only soft glows along the floor and a few scattered candles for effect. The faint smell of sweat and metal still lingered in the air from Jabber’s gear you’d left to air out earlier, mixed with the subtle sweetness of the little birthday cake you’d baked.

A distant thud echoed from the stairwell. Your pulse picked up. That was him, your chaotic hurricane, back from a fight. You pressed yourself against the wall near the door, heart thumping with anticipation.

The door creaked, then slammed slightly as it opened. Boots scuffed the floor; a bag thudded against the hallway tiles. Jabber’s voice, gravelly and still buzzing from adrenaline, called out, “Yo, where the hell you at, babe? You hidin’ or what?”

He stepped fully inside, jacket half off, dreads a little messy, knuckles scraped and bruised from the fight. The faint metallic tang of blood mingled with the familiar scent of his cologne. He kicked off his boots, dragging one foot, and you could see the dark bruises blooming along his forearms, the little cuts that caught the light in streaks of pink and gold.

“Yo… you smellin’ like trouble, babe,” He muttered with a crooked grin, tossing his bag onto the couch. “Or… maybe you been cookin’ up somethin’ sneaky.”

Now. You pounced.

A soft cloth covered his eyes before he could even react fully. “Ha! What the, yo, babe!” His voice was amused, rolling with it, and the warmth in his tone made your chest ache. “You sly as hell! You tryna… kidnap me or somethin’, huh?”

He chuckled, letting himself be guided, the blindfold hiding the gleam in his hot-pink eyes but not his smirk. “Aight, aight… I see how it is, babe. You leading me somewhere dirty, huh? Somethin’ I like?”

His footsteps echoed yours in the hallway, light but deliberate, body still coiled with fight tension, muscles jittery, knuckles itching like he wanted to touch, to test, to see. “Yo… don’t get cute on me, yeah? I can feel that grin on you, babe. I can feel it.”

You paused at the bedroom door, your hand on the knob. He froze too, sensing the shift in your pace, then murmured with that familiar mix of playfulness and danger. “Ooooh… we gettin’ fancy now, huh? Babe…”

He inhaled sharply, but he let it happen. He always did, in the moments that counted. The chaotic, untamed energy simmered beneath the surface, but for a heartbeat, he just let you lead him.